[i]
11 a.m. I awaken to the sounds of my roommate and his
girlfriend yelling at each other.
“You criticize me every fuckin day for the things I don’t do
and never recognize the things I do do!”
“I do everything for you!”
I’ve never seen this side of their relationship. I sensed
something like this might happen from the way I’ve observed their relationship.
Back to sleep.
DREAM: Playing tennis on a courtyard in the middle of some
school. Instead of a clay or concrete ground, there is thick wet muddy grass
making it difficult to play. I take front position and Art, my roommate, takes
the back. Our opponent is Angel Berrios. As he serves the ball, I
systematically miss and sometimes barely hit it. The head of my racket is too
small and the rod is the neck of a guitar. I can see the fret board and the
dots. Off to the side of the court is a huge cardboard box of rackets. I switch
mine out for a weird pink one with a trapezoid shape. It’s too light and small.
Again, I switch it out. This time, I finally get a preferable racket. Purple
and blue – the head is big enough. Angel attempts to serve but eventually just
kind of walks off the court and doesn’t seem interested in playing anymore. I’m
dropping change out of my pocket and hitting the coins with my new racket. A
dime falls into the grass. I make sure to keep my eye on it so I know where it
falls. I retrieve it from the mud.
A lady walks by me, “Don’t worry! I’m gonna get your money.”
She wants to take a picture of me with some other people
standing around. I’m not really interested but I smile and strike a pose with
my purple blue racket and matching purple blue outfit.
3:36 p.m. I wake up to the sounds of laughter from my
roommate and his girlfriend. Seems like they’ve made up.
Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran Cereal with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar,
Blueberries, and Milk. Orange Mango Juice. Zinc and Alfalfa.
The
Love Police actually exist!
The Dishes Decree: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/photo.php?pid=5882859&id=271092470309
Work at China Wok.
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Sweet Potato Chips. Green
Tea.
Delivering an order to the nicest woman in the world on
Vintage Court – a regular customer – in her late 60’s – orders at least once
every weekend – invites me in as usual, making sure we make the correct
transaction.
Me: “How’s my favorite customer?”
Woman: “How’s my favorite guy?”
Delivering an order on 10th Street – walking
through a white arch entrance surrounded with the rich sweet smells of
honeysuckle.
Some thoughts: If you stay in a constant state of seeking
reciprocation you will be in a constant state of disappointment.
Stretching. Exercising. Cool Hand Luke (1967).
Dinner: Black Beans and Rice with Indian Spices, Garlic,
Peppers, and Onions. Green Beans. Garlic Naan Bread.
I go to the storage unit. Music.
Back at home, Chocolate Coffee and Blueberry Almond Dunkers.
Finishing Cool Hand Luke (1967).
“For the secret of man's being is not only to live but to
have something to live for. Without a stable conception of the object of life,
man would not consent to go on living, and would rather destroy himself than
remain on earth, though he had bread in abundance.” - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
I love a hot shower.
Sleep around 7:20 a.m.
[i] Source
unknown.
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