The Millay Diary


Days 14 and 15

Dear Diary,

Sorry to leave you hanging off a cliff like that with my last entry, that was a real J.J. move on my part but this whole mess has been such a mess that I barely even feel like writing, even to you, Diary, my best friend at artist camp. Yes it’s true, things have gone real pear-shaped with me and Laurel and not in the good way like when a lady has a nice big behind. After Laurel tossed you on the ground at the séance I picked you up and ran back to the house while everybody laughed, and later when the rest had passed out from drinking hooch I went to Laurel’s room and knocked on the door and asked her what the heck was going on. She said I knew what was going on and I said SERIOUSLY LAUREL I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON WOULD YOU JUST SPILL THE GREENS???? Well it turns out that emailing my sister Amy a few days ago wasn’t such a hot idea because apparently she’s real good friends with Laurel’s ex-girlfriend and went and told Laurel’s ex that Laurel had a new ladyfriend that she’s real into. Laurel’s ex got real upset and called Laurel and started screaming at her and asking to know who the new ladyfriend was and at the end of the conversation Laurel’s ex said she was going to kill herself and then hung up the phone and didn’t answer any of Laurel’s calls. She didn’t go through with it and she is okay but it put a real scare into Laurel and now her situation is all mucked up and it’s basically all my fault. (Well it’s a little Amy’s fault, I’m not really talking to her right now.) I told Laurel I had no idea and I was sorry like a kajillion times but she wasn’t having it, she says she can’t trust me anymore and frankly Diary I don’t blame her. This is why I can never hold onto any of my friends, there is always some bizarro scenario where I do something weird or stupid only I don’t know it’s weird or stupid till it’s too late because I am “socially innovative” as Dr. Dave says. Laurel hasn’t talked to me since last Friday night and I figure she probably won’t talk to me the rest of our time at artist camp since she can’t trust me not to run to Amy and spill the greens to her. I should have known making a friend in Auschwitz would be too good to be true.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Heather and I were still hanging out but I asked her to go on a hike with me yesterday and she said no thanks but she had writing to do. She hasn’t been mean to me or anything but something seems off, I think she’s avoiding me because she’s avoiding me and I am starting to think that maybe Laurel showed you to everybody because Heather’s acting real funny and the others keep making fun of me about you. On Saturday when I walked in the kitchen for breakfast Lennon was sitting there with Abraham and Agnes and he had his little Moleskine notebook out (he’s SOOOOOOO cool!!!!) and he pretended to write in it and said:

LENNON: Dear Diary, well, I’m still the worst writer and least popular person at the Millay Colony. I’m so awkward, I make Michael Cera look like James Dean—

ABRAHAM & AGNES: (Laughter)

ME: James Dean is dead, you jerk. He probably looks terrible right now, he’s probably this shriveled corpse that’s crawling with maggots and worms and stuff—

THEM: (More laughter)

ME: What kinda person keeps their diary in a Moleskine notebook anyway? For someone who doesn’t eat animal products you’re awful lax about which critters are allowed to die so you can write bad poetry.


ME: Besides everyone knows diaries go in marble composition books, that’s how it’s been since like third grade, that’s a no-brainer—

LENNON: You’re the expert, Evan.

ABRAHAM: If it’s elementary or brainless, it’s your forte.

AGNES: (Snickering, in German)

ME: What does that even mean, Agnes? I haven’t been to third grade in like twenty years but I bet all three of you were always picked last for kickball and dodgeball and everything else WHICH IS WHY YOU’RE LIKE THIS.

THEM: (Silence)

ME: Yeah that’s what I thought. (Grabs Lucky Charms, exits)

It felt good telling them off like that but now I’m afraid that they’ve already read you or are going to try and read you in the future, Diary, which would be really terrible and such an invasion of privacy but with the Patriot Act and everything I don’t even know if it’s illegal anymore, thanks a lot Dubya, now people can invade each other’s privates all the time with no consequence. Real nice. Diary I am going to have to start hiding you, please don’t take it personal or anything but here are the places I’m considering so far:

-under a floorboard in my room (too obvious???)

-with Jason’s meat as soon as I find his meat stash (for some reason I don’t think he would read or even notice you)

in the shower (too wet??? Also Abraham and I share a shower, so scratch this one)

I could cut a big rectangle out of the phonebook and then stick you inside so from the outside it looks just like the regular phonebook but on the inside it’s you, but that’s destruction of property and also I’m supposed to stay away from sharp objects so I guess we have to scratch this one too

-in a dug-out leaf-covered hidey hole out in the woods, the kind Kevin Costner and his merry men used to pop out of in the 1991 classic Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (too obvious???)

-somewhere real high where no one else can reach you (ding ding ding ding!!!!)

I just gotta make sure I don’t hide you with any alcohol because then they will find you within seconds and read the heck out of you and cover you in idiotic marginalia and we will both be totally hosed. I guess I will keep you on top of that huge bookshelf in my studio, Diary, which is perfect because it’s where I’ve been keeping you all along and so far no one except Laurel has found you and that’s only because I told her about you. I don’t think she will try and steal you again because she was just lashing out but if she does this is still perfect because who would ever expect me NOT to move you after what happened at the séance????? This is like hiding out in the open or exposing yourself behind closed doors, it’s so stupid it’s genius.

Speaking of out in the open, I went on a hike by myself yesterday which I guess is how I’m going to spend a lot of my time now, like a lone wolf out in the wilderness minus the wolves or any large or interesting animals of any kind. It was an okay hike but when I got home and showered you’ll never believe what I found on my thigh, Diary—a nasty little TICK. I tried not to freak like last time and remembered what Laurel did, just yanked that sucker out. So I hopped out of the shower and yanked that sucker out but then I looked down and found ANOTHER TICK, this one even closer to my junk than the first one. I mean this is what happens when you have something like the Patriot Act, everyone’s privates are just fair game for invasion and these ticks know it better than anyone, they are really capitalizing here which I think is totally Anti-American, I mean this is supposed to be Auschwitz not Nazi Germany. Anywho I yanked that second tick out too and put both those guys in a Ziploc bag, supposedly for the doctor in case I get sick but part of me just hopes those two latch onto each other and suck each other dry till they’re both dead so they can know how the rest of us feel, on the inside anyway. The doctor can still examine their bodies if they’re dead to see what kind of ticks they are and he might have to because OH MY GOD DIARY I SPENT ALL LAST NIGHT RESEARCHING LYME DISEASE ON THE INTERNET AND IT IS TERRIFYING. If you don’t remove the tick within twenty-four hours you’re pretty much hosed and if you don’t catch the disease early enough you’re even more hosed and the disease can be PERMANENT and debilitating and really scary. I didn’t even sleep last night because I was reading up on all the symptoms and maybe it’s just that I’m out of iron pills and my skin marks real easy, I bruise if I just brush up against another person or make it to second base with them, but I feel like I have a bunch of the symptoms, Diary. I might take my truck into town tomorrow to find a hospital because this is a real big deal and I feel very frightened and alone right now and it’s like my mom always says, “Better safe than sore, E.”

Anyway Diary all my friends have abandoned me so it’s just you and me now, we are in this together till the end like those two ticks in the bag, the big difference being that instead of sucking each other’s blood till we’re dead we are just going to support the heck out of each other and build each other up until we feel as alive and powerful as a bear hiding in the woods eating the Clif bar I left on Millay’s grave.

Thanks for listening, goodnight Diary.



 *I feel like we are close enough now that you can call me E now too, Diary. The E stands for Evan.

Evan Allgood's work has appeared in McSweeney's, The Millions, LA Review of Books, The Toast, and The Billfold. He lives in Brooklyn and contributes regularly to Paste. Follow and maybe later unfollow him on Twitter @evoooooooooooo.