Raining. I should have gone for a walk earlier. I like the sound of the rain, but now it’s stopped. All morning I paced and paced. I noticed the floors here creak. Big wooden boards, smooth as can be, but they creak. I experimented, stepping here and there. Stepping on the knots. So many knots. That’s where the creaks seemed loudest. Creak, creak, creak. I wonder why I didn’t notice before. Maybe the place is falling apart. I studied the knots. They’re kind of pretty, actually. Swollen swirls. A lot of them look like vaginas. Open vaginas. Pussies. Fuck holes. Cunts. One time Logan and I were playing Scrabble, and I was trying so hard to use my Q. I had the U, but I could not quite figure it out. Finally I made a word, wasting my Q. “You could have made QUIM,” Logan said. “Triple word.” He moved the tiles for me. “What’s quim?” I asked. “You really don’t know?” he said. I shook my head. “I’ll show you,” he said. That was the end of that Scrabble game.

I used my phone to take pictures of the knots.

I thought when I got home I’d put them all together in a kind of collage. I used my phone camera to take a picture of my quim. It would go in the collage too. Then I used my phone to record the creaks as I stepped on various knots. I plan to use the recording as a background soundtrack to the collage. And I recorded myself masturbating. The juicy little slap sounds of finger-fucking. The soft moans of gathering excitement. The keening cry of coming. I’ll blend in this recording with the creaking of the cabin floor.

What a stupid project! I’ll probably never do it. But I think I’m finished here. Time to go home.