The days and nights are balanced, for once. We wake up to wind whipping and snapping around the building like someone unleashing a wet towel on all of us. The road bikes are out, but we can only ride them every second day. It snows overnight and melts by noon. Our friends seem more willing to cross the river, and there are people coming and going, and I am making pizza dough at 10 pm, which is the way I want it to be.
We bring Blanche home from my grandparents' acreage where she's been waiting all winter. Over the past couple weeks Dylan has started teaching me to drive in Susie the truck, so by the time we go to pick up Blanche I can back her out and drive her down the driveway to the outlet where my Opa has plugged in the air compressor. Sitting in the snow all winter does a number on your tires. My Opa directs all his instructions about the car to Dylan.
Blanche the Chevrolet Malibu has a sunroof, air conditioning, and a stereo with bass. She had brand new winter tires, and summer tires in the trunk. There's a yellow lei hanging from her rearview mirror. I get sad thinking about my mum hanging it there, hopeful about her new life, hopeful enough to do something ironic and ridiculous. She got the car right before the surgery. Or maybe the lei was there when she bought it off that guy. Maybe by now the lei is part of Blanche, like my nose ring. Nevertheless, I think we're going to remove it. There's only so mom-car we can own, you know?
While we're at the registry office for a new plate, I register a sole proprietorship. I call it Overfraught Productions, and under 'Type of Business' I list writing and film.
I'm working on two poetry films--one wordless and impressionistic, meant to accompany a poem on the page, the other just me reading. I do a reading for an event at school to promote the new anthology my friend Shawn is editing, and for the first time, I love reading my poems out loud. For the camera is another matter. Laura and I spend an evening trying out different set-ups. I try reciting to the camera. I try reciting to her face. The problem isn't the set-up; I'm terrifically awkward. It will take a while to figure out.
Dylan shoots his new movie. I am so proud and excited I act stupid. We book a week in August to go to Saskatchewan and shoot a script I wrote two years ago.
I finish "Thrift" and submit it to a contest with a 750 dollar prize. This is the first story from the collection that feels to me like a real story. My professor likes it. I read it at open apartment and everyone seems to like it. They don't understand what I was going for with the ending though. I'll have to change it. Next month.