1 December, 10.00am. Thornbury: my bedroom. Meltdown continues. Am abt to go hang out w crush who still has not mentioned kiss at all. How to act around him? Where to put arms, eyes? What if stand too still? What if stare too much? What if collapse to ground, vanish completely in fit of embarrassment and awkwardness leaving behind pile of empty (v cute) clothing?
1.30pm. Brunswick: Savers. Crush arrived early, found sick pair of rip-off versace jeans labelled vicaste that r too small for him and saved them for me. So thoughtful! Fit like dream. Vicaste vicaste medusa head on me like i’m ‘luminati (~‾-‾)~
2.20pm. Brunswick: Wide Open Road. Have u ever watched ur crush’s fingers while they roll a cigarette? Furtively tho like u accidentally just noticed that they even had fingers like oh those things on the ends of ur hands are kinda cute lol
2.35pm. Tfw words just fall out of ur mouth without ur brain’s permission like u know u have to say them, u know the stalemate has to end but saying them will break something, something other than the stalemate, the stalemate is like a gladwrap seal over the top of a balance that until now has been enough, has been more than enough, has been kind of good kind of great even but now is stifling now is cutting off your air supply so the words fall out and the words are: “what are we doing?” And ur crush’s response is “I don’t know.” And u say “u knew how I felt abt u and still u kissed me” and he says “well maybe I did the wrong thing” and this hurts. This hurts. This hurts like he’s ripping off the gladwrap and underneath it is something that when exposed to open air stings and stings and stings and the stinging doesn’t go away.
3 December, 6.00pm. Melbourne: The Wheeler Centre. The Express Media awards are abt to begin and then Eloise is gonna take me to Thursgay where I’m gonna drink away the stinging but first I have to hit send on this 2-page manifesto of my feelings that I wrote like a total high-schooler and saved as a pdf because we r living in the modern age and whenever I talk to my crush abt my feelings I become abt as inarticulate as Ray Barone omg
6.01pm. I’m gonna hit send. I’m gonna do it. I just gotta psych myself up first I just gotta hit send I’m gonna hit send just fucking DO IT EMMA U CAN DO IT U OWN THESE FEELINGS THEY R URS YEAH JUST SEND IT JUST HIT THAT LITTLE SEND BUTTON IT IS THE NILES TO UR CC BABCOCK JUST H I T I T
6.02pm. I hit it I sent it I think I’m gonna die I’m never gonna look at my phone again
10.45pm. Fitzroy: some alleyway. Eloise and I meet Laura who is drinking wine from the bottle and we join her on the curb to punch darts and talk abt how quickly pairs of undies get holes in them. At what point do u give up and just throw them out? Consensus (unanimously): never. Holey undies v good period/laundry day backup and therefore necessary.
11.10pm. Fitzroy: Mr Wow’s Emporium. Literally everyone at Thursgay is under 20 except me and Eloise and Laura and Charlotte. The queue 4 the bar is at least 12 ppl deep so I order 2 double vodkas and by the time I finish them I’m drunk and we’ve already decided 2 leave.
1.00am. Thornbury: my garage. Angelic Eloise, guardian protectress of my fragile emotions, rolls cigs w crumbs from bottom of pouch and says quiet soothing things abt ~strength and ~patience and tells me she loves me and I kno she means it cos she looks at me w these glowing BFF eyes all lit up like a furby’s with this like LED text scrolling across them real small that reads: “u are gonna be ok, everything is gonna be ok, i gotchu bb” and it will be cos she does.
8 December: 3.40pm. Thornbury: my rooftop. It’s 34 degrees and Housemate M just arrived home from impromptu trip to Kmart w a FKN POOL. I told u he was a literal angel -(๑☆‿ ☆#)ᕗ We got vbs, we punchin darts, this is how we do it in the thorn every1
8.30pm. Thornbury: my couch. Crush is on couch w me. ヾ(｡﹏｡)ﾉﾞ
8.33pm. Still no response to/mention of 2-page feel manifesto. Will not bring up. Will just sit here and stare at tv as tho literally nothing was ever said. Will act as tho am unfeeling lump of carb. Am potato. Am Ross Geller dressed as Spudnik except less of creep.
11.35pm. 6 goon cocktails deep. Crush is sitting so close to me our bodies r touching. This cannot b accidental????!? Now we are kind of snuggling????!? Now he is straight up holding me now our faces r rly close together and I am asking can I kiss u and he is saying yes and we are making out and I am flying to Adelaide in 2 days and I am asking him can we still do this when I get back from Adelaide and he is saying in the kind of voice u would use to tell somebody the sky is blue, well yeah, and he is kissing me again?????!?
10 December, 7.45am. Tullamarine: Melbourne airport. Abt to fly to Adelaide for dear friend Jade’s wedding. Have not been 2 Adelaide for nearly 8 months. Am excited but excitement is hiding somewhere deep under heavy layer of rly fuckin tired and a lil bit pissed abt bottle of iced espresso forgot to take out of fridge when uber arrived. Instead had 2 count silver coins out of wallet at airport McDonald’s to pay for shitty long black.
12 December, 4.00pm. Novar Gardens: Cummins Historical House. I kno it’s sappy and normative but there’s something abt weddings that always gets me, esp when it’s two friends who love each other and who u love and they are marrying each other :’) it’s sunny and the garden is beautiful and everyone looks so happy and Jade and John are MARRYING EACH OTHER RN and maybe I’m crying under my rly cute vintage sunglasses and maybe I’m not who knows who cares let’s all throw rose petals at the bridal party and party on ok
11.00pm. Port Adelaide: Krystal Function Centre. I love weddings but I tell u something I tell u what I love wedding receptions EVEN MORE. I have had me some wine yes yes I have and I have danced with the bride to “Where Are Ü Now” and I have danced with the groom and the mother of the bride and I have punched several darts and had a big d&m and quoted Panic! At The Disco lyrics and patted a lot of people on a lot of shoulders and said quite weepily things like “ain’t love grand” and “bless human emotion but also kind of maybe fuck it a little bit but don’t tell the happy couple I said that” and I have held the train of the bride’s dress out the way while she peed bc what are friends for when u think abt it really?
13 December, 4.45pm. Albert Park: Bek’s house. Have just consumed a solid 90 minutes of Chelsea Peretti on Netflix and $19 worth of McDonald’s w Bek and Steph. Bolstered by greasy food, belly laughs and gd company am now ready to attempt single cig. Wish me luck.
8.30pm. Adelaide: The Exeter. How I have missed the Ex! How I have missed a pub where pints of Coopers are only $4.50! Alice brought me dinosaur-shaped xmas cookies! Stella and Casey and Ellie are here and I’m so happy I almost can’t feel my hangover!
16 December: 6.30pm. Thornbury: my bedroom. This is the face of somebody who just made out with her crush earlier today every1 ( ื▿ ืʃƪ)
17 December, 4.25pm. Moreland: Centrelink. Have been on hold to Centrelink at Centrelink for an hour and 36 minutes and now they’re telling me they’re closing so can I pls go home and just call Centrelink tomorrow from my own phone and I’m like no I can’t cos my phone got cut off cos I can’t afford to pay the bills cos u screwed up my payments like FUK U AND UR IMPENETRABLE SYSTEM 凸(｀0´)凸
19 December, 11.30am. Thornbury: my couch. Watching xmas-themed ep of rage, v heavy on the Wham! and Mariah. Cue xmas panic. Am not spending holiday w family this year bc was in Adelaide only 2 weeks ago and cannot afford, but every1 around me is gearing up for big family celebrations. Will I be lonely? Will I collapse? Will I ~actually~ use the discount codes Domino’s pizza emailed me that are only valid on December 25?
25 December, 9.07pm. Thornbury: Sian’s backyard. Xmas panic eradicated by tru angels Sian and Murray and their pup bb Patti. Vegan feast prep complete, nut loaf in oven, mimosas in hand. Am ready 2 jingle all the way. ˳˚̊̊⌖∙◌˳⚛˳̊̊̊☃˚˳̊◌˚̊⌖♡
A photo posted by emma marie jones (@emmacones) on
1.20am. Thornbury: Tyson’s place. When Housemate M and I arrive 4 nangmas celebrations some guy is chundering into the wheelie bin lol let’s get this party that has already started started uh huh uh huh
1.35am. M and I smell a lil weed comin from over near the couch so we go sit on the couch real patiently and sure enough the guy with the joint passes it straight 2 me. (⌐■_■)
1.45am. Tyson finds small baggie of MDMA in pocket. It a xmas miracle! Enough for Tyson, M and I to indulge in a lil finger dip each ♪～(◔◡◔ิ)人(╹◡╹๑)～♪
2.25am. Feelin real good. Shaz arrives w seemingly endless boxes of nangs. Where did all these balloons come from? I’m p sure the one Tyson hands me is full of someone else’s saliva but it’s nangmas and it’s 2.25am and the rain just started falling real heavy and I’m wearing a leather jacket I’ve never seen before and we’re all pinching the necks of our balloons real hard waiting until everyone’s got one and u can hear the little sound of the drops hitting the tight balloons until somebody says ok and we all go at once and it’s like the concrete we’re sitting on sighs, u kno?
26 December, 5.33pm. Thornbury: my bedroom. Looking thru handbag for papers, find v small nug of weed in v small baggie. Memory triggered: Tyson finding said v small baggie on ground post-nang, offering to self as xmas gift. Thank u sun and stars 4 Tyson. Roll joint, smoke it, commence marathon viewing of Grey’s Anatomy. Xmas? More like successmas.
30 December, 4.45pm. Thornbury: my bathroom. As have just covered entire head in Manic Panic Green Envy™, now have 45-60 min to reflect on how diarising entirety of 2015 has impacted self as person before must rinse. Exhibit A:
New Year’s resolution, Jan 10 2015, 2.00am.
Am inspired to diarise all aspects of own life. Be truthful to point of disgusting. No such thing as too much information. Will speak forthrightly about lived experience of femininity. Chris Kraus: “I think the sheer fact of women talking, being, paradoxical, inexplicable, flip, self-destructive but above all else public is the most revolutionary thing in the world.” Am revolutionary. Am self-destructive. Am horny. Wonder if diary experiment will get me laid.
Am still revolutionary, self-destructive, horny. Was wholly truthful, often to point of disgusting. Spoke forthrightly, and learned from forthrightness that vulnerability does not require armour, but kind of is armour. If I make myself vulnerable, then am vulnerable on own terms: am offering, and therefore cannot be cracked open and plundered by external forces. W openness and exposure comes strength and durability. Eileen Myles: “I just need to tell this story for me or else I will burst. It’s lonely to be alive and never know the whole story. Everyone must walk with that thought. I would like to tell everything once, just my part, because this is my life, not yours.” This is my life, not yours. Read, but do not take. Enjoy, but do not judge. Consider, but do not classify. (N.b.: diary experiment did not get me laid.)
31 December, 4.45pm. Thornbury: my backyard. Have just woken from heatwave-induced nap to Housemate M, Tyson and Oli doing tequila shots half-naked covered in wet towels. Join immediately.
9.45pm. Collingwood: Dave’s backyard. Look I’m not proud of it but I bought a six-pack of raspberry UDLs and I’m more than halfway thru it. Hannah and I r punchin darts and trying to cram as many rotations of Purpose in as poss bc for some reason Hannah hasn’t even listened to it ONCE and there are only 2 hours left of 2015. Can u belieb it?
11.58pm. Fitzroy: someone’s house party. Received text earlier tonite from friend Amy who has 12-hr stopover at Tullamarine between Sweden and Adelaide and wanted to know if cld join my NYE plans. Told her of course, and here she is ♡♡ Neither of us kno anyone at this party except Hannah and Dave and we’re trying to score some MD from this girl we don’t know bc ofc Amy’s just come from Sweden and the temperature difference is like 60 degrees and she’s jetlagged and it’s NY fkn E and we all need a lil ~pizzazz~ if u kno what I mean. Some girl behind us goes “oi! It’s 12.01! We missed the countdown!” and the city fireworks start going off and every1 starts making out and Amy and I decide to sneak off to the warehouse party down the road a lil earlier than planned.
1.36am. Fitzroy: Diepop warehouse party. Best decision ever. Amy and I take like an hour to find some MDMA which we eat on balcony while talkin to Sarina and smokin cigs. While we’re comin up, dj spins the bieb and I just kno that 2016 is gonna be 👏 THE 👏 BEST 👏 YEAR 👏 EVER 👏
1.52am. Fitzroy: some alleyway. Uuuuugghhhhh. Mb those six UDLs weren’t such great idea. Amy’s comeup was rough too but her nausea’s passed and mine isn’t going away.
1.56am. Open eyes to Amy calling name repeatedly, worriedly. Feel fine. Feel great! Feel high! Feel wet. Look down. Am covered in bright red vom. Vom exact same colour as red UDLs. Realise vom most likely came from own mouth. Ask Amy: “did I throw up?” Amy looks at me with srs pity, is like “oh yeah bb. U did.”
1.57am. Phone is ringing. Is Housemate M. Could this angel have more impeccable timing? Is crossing street near alleyway w Oli. Literally has wet handtowel in pocket, spare shirt on person. Oli stands me up, leans me against wall, pours water over blown chunks, pats away w M’s towel, hides wet patch w spare shirt. We r good to go back upstairs and party on!
2.25am. A dance floor is the best place for me 2 leave u, my angels. A dance floor where I am covered in my own chunder but nobody can tell bc it’s dark and there’s heaps of glitter everywhere and it’s a rly beaut space full of rly beaut ppl. A dance floor where my hands are in the air and there are m8s around and other m8s who aren’t around but will b, later, mb not tonite but soon, and u won’t hear abt it bc the diary experiment is over. It’s my new year’s resolution to write more poems and eat more greens. It’s also my new year’s resolution to write Emma Jones’s Diary but less abt my personal life and more abt my thoughts, and if that’s something u think u might want 2 follow, u can subscribe to it here. Thank u for being w me, ily all v much xoxoxoxoxo
(❀∩´◔‿ゝ◔`⑅)⊃―☆ *’“*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･♡♪+*.
January – December: A Summary
Alcohol units: ~2,167 (weeee)
Cigarettes: ~5,460 (idgaf)
Calories: who gives a shit i don’t even know what a calorie is worth
Houseplants killed: 3 (poor)
Times Osher Günsberg acknowledged my tweets abt his erect nipples during The Bachelorette: 1 (tru highlight of year)
New BFFs gained: 3 (v.g.)
Times listened to Justin Bieber’s Purpose in its entirety: 147
Theses written: 1
Masters degrees completed: 1
Literary prizes shortlisted for: 1 (v.g.)
Times cried on public transport: 6
Selfies posted: 62 (needs work, will post more in 2k16)
Times vomited on own nikes: 9 (poor)
Hrs spent watching food network on valium: 67
Times dumped by text message: 4
Poorly-pseudonymed lovers: 6
Trust issues: 4,789 (p gd progress tbh)
Kisses w crush in last 24 hours: 6 (v.v.v.v.g)
An excellent year’s progress.
Emma Marie Jones is a Melbourne-based poet and writer and the Sex Editor at SPOOK magazine. Her short fiction, poems, essays and criticism have appeared in SPOOK, Scum, The Lifted Brow, Stilts, The Suburban Review.