Emma Jones’s Diary: July

July 3, 7.30pm. Brunswick: my kitchen. Have created poor woman’s cocktail w rum from back of pantry, sugar and tap water. Drinking w Sian and Eloise. Tastes awful but have so far kept down three.


11.30pm. Brunswick: The Lifted Brow launch party, Howler. Three rum-and-tap-waters def enough to initiate drunken sext to TDHAC. Does he recall that one time he made me squirt? Would he like to do again?


1.10am. Was that rly squirting tho? Or does TDHAC just produce a lot of saliva?


1.25am. Where is Sian? Google: “how to unsend text messages”. Google: “where is Sian”.


1.30am. Sian located. How can a girl disappear in a bar so small? Where did she even go? Remains mystery. Sian bb ily. Many ppl at this party think we are dating. We do nothing to confirm nor deny the rumours. Aura of mystery, glamour adds pizzazz to our already-perf friendship.


July 4, 12.30pm. Brunswick: my bedroom. Omg. This hangover. Will not even look at sent messages. Pizza. RuPaul’s Drag Race. RN.


July 7, 2.30pm. Brunswick: my bedroom. TDHAC misses me. TDHAC feels rly bad about what happened. TDHAC says everything but “sorry”. TDHAC probably just horny. Will not reply. Will rise above drunken mess of squirt sexting and remain ice queen.


2.31pm. Reply to TDHAC: “miss u 2. Can i see u?”


3.30pm. TDHAC has seen my message but is not responding. Self-diagnosis: Seen Tick Anxiety. Worst thing in this world. Brb gotta go scream into every pillow in house.


4.45pm. Moonee Ponds: Job Prospects. Am dole doll. Minimum wage chic. Hair flick emoji.


5.35pm. Moonee Ponds: KFC opposite Job Prospects. Look, can still be chic in a KFC. Can still be chic in a KFC while crying. Can still be chic in a KFC while blotting liquid eyeliner onto wet paper towel from sachet monogrammed w Colonel Sanders’ face. Mouth hole representative of emotional vacuum. Will stuff both w chips.


July 10, 7.00pm. Brunswick East: a dinner party. Ode 2 Eloise: girl, u the best new bestie. 1,000 miles? Would walk ‘em. We all need friends like Eloise. Everyone should get an Eloise.


July 14, 1.20pm. Melbourne: Mekong Pho. Lunch w Sophie. June edition of Emma Jones’s Diary published today. Given TDHAC’s continued silence am anxious re total vulnerability. Sophie who is goddess reminds never to be ashamed of own feelings. Own feelings valid even if illogical. Anxiety re: vulnerability not all that illogical anyway. Thank u mother earth 4 Sophie.


July 18, 9.00am. Thornbury: my (new) house. Moving day. New housemates M & M total angels. Big sunny bedroom window w wide sill for cat to sun self on. 10/10.


July 26, 9.00am. Brunswick East: Weston Street. Am subject of film shoot exploring shift in meaning of cumshot when removed from pornographic context. What this means essentially is that liquids resembling spunk fired at my face in front of hi-def slow-motion camera. Have been sprayed relentlessly w cornflour paste, milk, oatmeal. If some fuckboi’s jizz looked like oatmeal tho would send fuckboi to doctor, no?


10.00pm. Thornbury: my living room. Thornbury’s Tinder game strong. Matched w v witty, dorky qt and have been flirting w astronomical success. Have so far established mutual tumblr follow, shared passion for pizza, matching chronic illness status, similar taste for cooking-based reality television. Have exchanged drafts of current projects. Am v impressed.


July 27, 12.30pm. Melbourne: Biba Salon Emporium. Obtain haircut, despite Venus in retrograde. Haircut resembles mushroom, but am kind of feelin it.


11.30pm. Thornbury: my garage. After much debate, have chosen pseudonym for witty, dorky Tinder qt of yesterday. Debate takes place in future (from date of this entry) or past (from date of writing) and is inclusive of his input. Chosen pseudonym: Dork Butt. Topics of flirtation w Dork Butt tonight include grief, form, sandwiches, wanting to see each other.


July 29, 2.45pm. Melbourne: The Wheeler Centre. Just found out Kat Muscat died last night. Overwhelming shock. Vision narrow tunnel. Although did not know Kat personally, knew and respected her work as writer and feminist and feel, in this diary entry, incredible fallibility. How can one sentence hold life, hold loss, hold sadness surrounding its extinguishing? Feel am radiating w silent, pained love for all friends hurting rn. ♡


7.30pm. Thornbury: my living room. Hannah here to watch premiere of The Bachelor. We have plastic roses, champagne. Turns out half a bottle of champagne enough to make me truly champagne drunk. Pounding headache drunk. Did I eat today?


11.30pm. Thornbury: my bedroom. Dork Butt texting game lifts again. Tonight: selfie tour of each other’s bedrooms, poetically insulting pick-up lines, acknowledgment of mutually huge crushes on one another. Personal fave: “u curse me like a crooked wand”. Ur killin me, Dork Butt. (∩`-´)⊃━☆゚.*・。゚


July 30, 2.30pm. Brunswick: my GP. Welcome to Migraine City, population: me. Omg just sign the fuckin painkiller prescription so I can go home and take it and then lie still trying not to vomit it up until it kicks in.


3.00pm. Thornbury: my bedroom. Housemate M making some kind of noisecore music in next room but am too paralysed by migraine/awkwardness to ask him to turn it down. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


3.35pm. Dork Butt sympathetic to migraine. Sick people get other sick people. Despite wanting our first date to be super cute, Dork Butt proposes post-work valium and hug delivery to soothe migraine. Personally I think this is cutest first date possible. Yes from me.


7.45pm. Holy shit tho what are u supposed to wear on a valium and hug date in your own house when you have a migraine?!???!?!?!?!? How to look cute while trying not to sense anything?????!?


10.30pm. Thornbury: my garage. Thank fuck for prescription painkillers. Beginning to feel less like reanimated corpse. Dork Butt still finishing work before coming over. Am smoking cigs w M & M and wondering whether, since is past booty-call o’clock, valium and hug date is in fact just booty call?


10.50pm. Dork Butt irl is cutest. Has brought valium and minicomics. Is sitting next to me on couch laughing. Has cutest laugh in world.


July 31, 11.15am. Thornbury: my bedroom. Well shit. Loveliest first date have been on in long time. (Can use verb “been” if didn’t actually go anywhere? Date came to me.) Read Dork Butt’s tarot, talked frankly together about illness and art and loss and anxiety and poetry and fear of dis/connection motivating all of us. Hugged. Kissed. The kind of kiss where u touch lips without totally kissing. Lip brush, so you can feel other mouth smiling into yours. Lip brush heavy breathing. Dork Butt makes most exquisite pleasure sounds and I haven’t even taken off his clothes. Dork Butt goes down on me w delicacy and obvious enjoyment, then says let’s leave it there for tonight. Did u literally fall from heaven what the fuck. More talking, more holding. Sleep so much sweeter in arms of srs qt.


3.30pm. Parkville: House of Cards, Melbourne Uni. Meeting T for coffee before class. Last time saw T was for late-night booty callin. Have been thru emotional wringer since then. Seeing T and hearing she is feeling happy in self only adds to my I-had-an-orgasm-in-the-last-24-hours glow. After negativity of TDHAC, is nice to be reminded sexual relationships can end, but friendships can continue.


9.15pm. Melbourne: Boney. Housemate M accompanied me to Dork Butt’s show tonight so wouldn’t have to stand around alone while DB played. M angel. Dork Butt killin it even tho I know he thinks he isn’t. Have seen his music before but watching someone perform after they have let u in for first time so telling, hypnotic.


10.30pm. Watching next act, Dork Butt takes my hand one finger at a time. Nervous closeness. Feel about 14 years old in a cute, good, whole-body-smile way.


11.45pm. Brunswick East: Dork Butt’s. Poor bb is asleep without even finishing his pizza. :’)




August 1, 8.30am. Brunswick East: Dork Butt’s. Second morning in row waking up next to this body. Body with morning yawns like cat. Body with v soft skin. Spend few hours snoozing phone alarm, fooling around. Rly want to fuck Dork Butt, who rly wants to fuck me, but can’t find condom so make ~responsible~ choice not to.


10.00am. Dork Butt sitting behind me combing my cowlick w his fingers while I apply liquid eyeliner. Freestyle rappin about my liquid eyeliner. Doesn’t want me to leave. I suggest coming back after brunch and he lights up. How is this really happening? Tinder has outdone itself.


11.00am. Melbourne: Mess Hall. Brunch w girl gang bc Emily is here visiting from Sydney. Girl gang best. Seeing Emily irl w own real eyes v exceptional luxury. What a perfect gem. Why must cities steal friends? Friends are best. Seeing all together at table like that, waiting for me, feel invincible, indestructible, luckiest woman on planet.


11.15am. Receive text message from housemate M notifying that cat has caught mouse, was last seen carrying mouse in mouth to bedroom. Not looking forward to dealing w mouse carnage tbh.


1.00pm. Melbourne: Elizabeth Street Pharmacy. Why so many types of condoms? How many varying thinnesses needed? What is ~really~ difference between 10% thinner and 15% thinner? Why bother w 10% thinner when 15% thinner exists? Who wants their dick to taste like passionfruit? This packet just says “clinically proven”? Clinically proven to what? Sappy James Blunt song plays whole time am standing awkwardly in front of condom display awaiting Dork Butt’s text input on condom preference. End up buying thinnest type and getting outta there before James Blunt kills sex drive forever.


1.45pm. Thornbury: my bedroom. Mouse v much alive and running in donuts under bed. M constructs complicated trap system using boxes. Trap not unlike garbage compactor in Star Wars: forces mouse to emerge at foot of bed where M can capture mouse under cup. M & M drive mouse to Merri Creek to release for new, cat-free life.


9.00pm. Brunswick East: Dork Butt’s. Dork Butt has cleared space on his desk for me to work beside him. Together we cook soup, he bakes bread, we eat and I write and he draws. Breaks to kiss, to take meds, to kiss again.


1.00am. Sex w DB for first time good but kind of awkward in way sex is always good but kind of awkward when u are doing it w someone you like for the first time. Dork Butt hides his orgasm because he’s not sure if I’ve cum yet. Wish he wouldn’t have. I wanna watch pleasure contort that cute lil face.


August 2, 3.30pm. Brunswick East: Dork Butt’s. Still here. Still writing. Productivity count for today: 2 poems, several emails, 1.5 pages of thesis. Dork Butt tattooing while I work. Comfortable co-existence. Easy workflow. His hands on my shoulders, on my head, every time he passes the chair I am sitting in to write.


8.35pm. Pizza puts Dork Butt to sleep like is personal soporific. Snoring next to me w one sock on, one sock off, my hand wrapped around his calf. I watch Grey’s Anatomy on my laptop. He will wake soon to draw all night. Sneaky looks at sleeping face. Lil angel.


10.30pm. When Dork Butt wakes am embarrassed abt the Grey’s, but he totally admits to having watched this shit before. Debate ensues. McDreamy vs McSteamy? (McDreamy 4eva. Have literally dreamt abt having him perform neurosurgery on me. Don’t judge. U would too if u had a neurological disorder.)


1.00am. Sex again and this time we have found our groove. V v v v v v v v v good. ✓✓✓✓ DB has this squirmy lil orgasm that I love to watch. Biting lip writing this just thinking about it. Ugh.


August 3, 9.30am. When we wake Dork Butt reaches into pocket of hoodie and pulls out small note on yellow paper. Note: list of reasons why he likes me. Bed is dome of smiles. Do not even care must wear turtleneck sweaters for rest of week to conceal hickeys. Time to leave magical weekend and return to reality of week. W Dork Butt’s lil head in my hands, pressed against belly saying I can’t wait to see you again, I feel like this week is gonna be p ok.


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.

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