Monday November 29 2010



DREAM: About to go on tour. I’m driving an absurdly tall monster truck van—Jeremy Smith, the lead singer of Day’s Difference, and another guy are with me. Pulling into the parking lot of a shopping plaza. It’s difficult to see people walking around—I almost hit some of them—being cautious and rolling down the window to get a better view of what’s in front of me. Struggling to attach the trailer to the van. The trailer tumbled over when we made a turn so I have to retrieve it now. Jeremy and the other guy go inside one of the stores, where an all-black church service is in progress. Coming back inside to get the dudes. There was an explosion of some kind during the service. Thinking the black preacher caused this from speaking a powerful sermon. Jeremy is covered in this white powder along with a few others. Me and the other guy try to lift him up but he’s crippled. A Caucasian man that’s friends with the preacher approaches us and comments on how Jeremy and I are the only white people here. “Usually white people are afraid to be here,” he says. The preacher comes over with a cooler of ice and pulls out bottles of various juices for us as a welcoming gift. Suddenly, I become really thirsty in the dream, which bleeds over to when I wake up.


5 p.m. waking up.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Thrift Store, Kmart, Target, Big Lots.

I found out Big Lots is closing in January. This is sad news. I’ll have to find another place for cheap toilet paper.


Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Grapes.

Watching Killer at Large: Why Obesity is America’s Greatest Threat [2008].


Looking for rideshares online for my trip to Florida at Christmas.


Art got a new haircut from Becca. “Art, I didn’t realize it was you. It looks cool. Typical Russian haircut.”


Roma informs me that he has reason to believe fleas are the cause of our itchy ankles and red marks. He’s seen them jumping in various places around the house. Thanks Ambrotious, for leaving your flea eggs everywhere.

Putting down a mixture of Baking Soda, Salt, and Lemon Juice on the carpet and couches. This seems to be the popular solution on the internet.


Stretching. Crunches.


Eating a Banana and a Pumpkin Whoopie Pie.


Dumpster Diving at Trader Joe’s.

The finds: Tilapia, Salmon, Turkey Slices, Misc Bread, Broccoli, Asparagus, Clementines, Bananas, Blackberries, Apples, Pears, Potatoes, Carrot Juice, Peppers, Yogurt, Spinach, Croutons, Tons of various Chicken Meals, Cookies, Dark Chocolate, and Bag of Pizza Dough.


This past week my dives have been very fruitful—an abundance of food recovered. Most of it I’ve left on the porch free for the taking. Through Craigslist I’ve been receiving a lot of emails from families and individuals in dire need of food—they respond with such thankfulness. It makes me feel good to know I’m helping people. There’s nothing like the power of benevolence.

Here’s one of the emails: “So i have no idea who you are or what your story is, but I wanted to thank you for your kindness to people because so few people would show any consideration to fellow man. I'm sure that wasn't just things you had laying around. I hope you are blessed tenfold. Have a great day and a wonderful holiday season.

-Mike”

I am some sort of Food Angel. May you never go hungry.


Dinner: Chicken Vegetable and Potato Soup (made by Jamil). Garlic Bread.

Watching Gang Tapes [2001].


Practicing songs at the storage unit.


Arriving back home. There’s a lady on the porch gathering the last of all the food. And now all of it is gone, within two hours after posting an ad.


Eating a small bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar.

Finishing Gang Tapes.


Sleep 8:45 a.m.

Sunday November 28 2010



DREAM: Parking my car in an area that gets crowded with people only at a certain time in the day, I think around 7pm—it’s like a flea market. There’s a Craigslist building nearby. I open up my doors and suddenly there’s a lady analyzing my pajama pants and negotiating prices to buy them from me. One by one, another customer appears, interested in buying whatever is in my car. At first I was thrown off by the idea because I don’t want to sell my stuff—I want to keep it. But the idea seems more and more inviting as the customers come.


4:30 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Work at China Wok.


Eating Persimmons.


Back at home, people show up early for A SHOW N TELL THANKSGIVING—some new faces. There’s tons of food.

Eating a Rice and Vegetable Burrito that the Food Not Bombs crew brought.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2227838&id=33611080#!/album.php?aid=304937&id=271092470309

It turns into a dance party and everyone is tearing up the floor.



Later, it becomes a stressful situation between her and I. She tends to express her desire for love in a dramatic fit. Sitting up in the cold and drafty attic. Then, in the kitchen. Then she apologizes for being insensitive. I was surprised, but accept the apology because it was genuine. When you can’t get your way and things don’t go how you expect them to, you lack endurance. Oh girl, if you could only believe me when I say, “I care about you.” There’s a soft spot in my heart for you that seems permanent. Even Gorilla Glue doesn’t have the ability to toughen it. I’m just as scared as you are.

My head hurts, dumbo.


Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Water.

Watching Deceiver [1997].


Drinking Chocolate Milk.


Doug’s alarm keeps sounding off as I sit at the computer. He turns it off. So I chime in out loud, “♪ bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum ♪ You can’t turn me off, Doug!”

“The real question is can I turn you on.”

“I don’t want to…ahem…know…ahem…the answer to that.”


Meditating—listening to music.


Sleep 8 a.m.

Saturday November 27 2010



DREAM: Running through the city—nighttime. Trying to get away from a crowd of zombies of some kind. I make it to the beach. Knowing if I dive into the ocean I’ll be safe and can escape the dream. I’m hiding behind a skyscraper now. I start taking off my clothes—I want to be completely naked for this. I sense the zombies are close. Shit! There they are, just around the corner, looking for me. I don’t have time to finish unclothing myself. With my pants still attached to my legs, I make a run for it and jump into the water. Submerged—my body tosses and turns—bare ass sticking out in some moments. I hear the zombies mumbling about how they spot me in the water. Time to hyper-conscious out of here…


5:30 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Banana. Blueberry Yogurt. Immune Defense Drink.


Work at China Wok.

Number of Non-Tippers for this shift: 1

First Non-Tipper

Race/Description: African American and Caucasian women in early 30’s

General Location: Colonial Arms

Type of Residence: Medium Sized Apartment

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): ***

Amount of Order: Over $13

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Friendly

Experience: I even complimented their pretty magenta couches.


Delivering an order off West Lane. The lady had called a few times because it was taking too long. I got flushed with too many orders at once so I felt bad. She answers the door holding a little white Chihuahua in her arms, wearing thick grey sweatpants—comfortable looking, and black-framed glasses. I apologize about the wait. She seems understanding and tells me her and her sister just moved in. “Oh I live right down the street. You’re in a good area. Everything is nearby.”


Delivering an order in Chanticleer to Lucy, an acquaintance I met through Doug. Both of us impressed with the surprising coincidence, “Oh. This is funny.”


Quick stop at Trader Joe’s. My buddy Lauren is working. She gives me a heads up that they’ll be throwing out a whole lot of stuff tonight.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.


Attending Mae’s final show at The NorVa. Quite an event. It’s like a family reunion here, or rather a funeral. Anybody who ever helped or worked with Mae is present. Way too many people to mention.

Eating one of Michellasaurus’s Mae cupcakes and Pita with Hummus.

Trying to plan a final on-stage prank. The idea was to rush the stage and pour a big bucket of ice over Dave after the last song. However, we couldn’t get full clearance because a DVD was being shot. At any rate, it’s a nostalgic experience watching songs get played for the last time. After touring and being a part of the project for the past two years, I almost shed a tear. I’m sure the majority of the thousand or so people there were experiencing the same emotions. Goodbye, Mae. Rest in peace.

After the concert—hanging out at Jon Reynolds place. He made Lasagna and Pumpkin Cheesecake from scratch. Both, utterly delicious.


Jamil is back home from New York! We go dumpster diving at Trader Joe’s. A lot of the good bags are already conveniently sitting out in shopping carts. Thanks Lauren!

The finds: Everything in bulk including Cinnamon Raisin Bread, Bagels, English Muffins, Pita Bread, Tortillas, Muffins, Cookies, Pizza Dough, Cakes and Pastries, Bananas, Cheese, Mushrooms, Broccoli and other Vegetables.


I notice the kitchen knives are missing. Kyle is waking up early for work and I ask him if he knows where they are. “They’re under the sink.” “Oh. Weird.” “Yeah somebody was drunk last night.” He tells me that as if he put them there for the sole purpose of simply taking precautions, in case that drunken person got any crazy ideas. I can only guess who he was talking about.


2 Persimmons and Garlic Bread. Coffee.


Skype chat with Verity.


Sleep 8:30 a.m.

Friday November 26 2010



DREAM: ☼ The Lake ☼ A campground—a group trip. Inside a patio room—outside it’s sunny and beautiful but it starts pouring down rain. There’s a group of people waiting for me to join them to the lake. I’m gathering all my things—struggling to roll my pant legs up—it’s taking me an unusually long time. The group has already taken off. Chris Kenney, an old friend of mine from youth group days, is lying on the bed napping. I wake him up to walk with me. All of a sudden the room changes…we’re in a boat now with a few others. Coming around a river bend that flows into the lake. All of us get bumped off the boat and into the water near the shore. I’m angry because I have electronics in my jacket pockets that could get ruined. “Why didn’t they tell us they were going to do that?” I climb up onto a pier, soaking wet. Pulling out my digital camera, cell phone, and keys—checking to make sure they’re okay. The jacket protected one side of the camera. I’m barefoot and walking carefully around the shells and miscellaneous items on the ground. A lot of people are here—families, friends. There’s a sand cliff that slopes down into the lake. Most everybody is lounging on top. I notice two tin cans embedded in the sand hill. I guess their purpose is to make sliding down the hill fun.

☼ Ancient TV ☼ Meeting Danny Rogers in a studio—spacious and hall-like. He’s sitting in a booth while I play a guitar lead from the song “Woodlands” on a plastic guitar of some kind. In the dream, Musicplayer has been recording with him. He shows me a new music installation he’s working on in the corner of the room. I walk up a few steps and find a giant TV with an ancient mixing board lying out in front of it—on the screen is an animated music video he’s still editing. “It’s old and unreliable but I’ll make it work,” he says. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the square room. On each corner are old industrial looking effects pedals, grey and black, hooked up to the TV. “This is cool!” I tell him.


5:30 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar, and Blueberries. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Work at China Wok.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.

Finishing Hard Eight [1996].


Cleaning out old files on my laptop—freeing up space.


2 Persimmons.


Margot and I. Using all my wits and humor to ignore her spiteful negativity. It actually turns out well. Just ignore it. Respond with the opposite of what she expects and wallah! Positive energy. Using this newly acquired mood to our advantage—having sex…sweet.

Now you don’t look so dumb, darling.


Stopping by Kmart because she’s craving Mac N Cheese.

Eating a Hard Boiled Egg with Pita and Hummus.

“Give me something for my eyes while I eat!” So I put on Pretty in Pink [1986].

Doing crunches.


Eating Polenta Provencale with Spinach and Peas. Cinnamon Roll Bread.


Making click tracks on Ableton to use for live performances.


Drinking Chocolate Milk.

Watching Holy Rollers [2010].


Sleep around 8:20 a.m.

Thursday November 25 2010




DREAM: Inside a hall-like room—seems like a giant attic. On one side surrounding me are various castle play sets that you would normally find at a nursery. Everything’s clean and tidy. My dad walks in to help me carry my things out to the car. I guess I’m leaving now.

6 p.m. I wake up.

Feeling much better.

Breakfast: Toasted Cinnamon Raisin Bagel with Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.

All the bread I put out on the porch is completely gone. It’s amazing what one free ad on Craigslist can do.

With Margot, Art, and Roma at Becca’s house. All of us standing in the kitchen chit chatting and hanging out. Becca’s roommate Ava and Rob, a guy from Brooklyn are there. Talking about movies.
Eating an Apple Pie Bar that Becca’s mom made from scratch. Drinking lots of water.
Downstairs in the den, Roma explains how typical of an American living room this looks like to him.
In the dining room. Ken shares a song of his on guitar. I share a song Roma sang to me earlier at the house: 


“Thanksgiving is the best day, the best day. Thanksgiving is the best day. American eat food. American eat food.”

Eating 3 scrumptious Persimmons.

Margot takes me to CP Shuckers where a few of her friends from work are meeting. They’re nice but I find myself just sitting by the pool table—observing two dudes duking it out in a game. Feeling bored and kind of out of place. Drawing a picture in my moleskin. Watching Margot and her interaction with people. Her clothes seem warm and cuddly. She looks cute. She sits down next to me and says sometime along the lines of I want to have sex with you later. I should’ve learned by now that saying no to her is not a good idea. And yet I knew I wasn’t up for it, “I don’t feel well…I’m still sick…my body aches.” This causes a sudden shift in mood and she becomes terribly upset—telling me to leave and drive her car back home. “Please don’t take it so personally. I just don’t feel well and I don’t have a drive right now. Try to be understanding.” She’s just not having it. She pays her tab and we leave the bar.
Back at my place. She’s yelling at me. Thinking to myself how selfish this behavior is. This unearths familiar arguments about how she wants to end this—she’s not happy. I’m feeling stressed and not in the mood to hear stale and repetitive accusations. Eventually I walk off down the street. She follows me. It’s a nice night. Enjoying the crunching of the yellow brown leaves under my feet. She’s speaking a little more clear now and without anger. Surprised to hear some valid points on her end on the state of our relationship.
In my room now. Standing there with a fresh cup of hot tea, breathing in the steam—my glasses fogging up. Silence……………“I have to end this,” she says out of nowhere. Silence……………….. “How are we going to do that?” I ask. She starts crying. “I don’t like to see you cry.” Laying my head down on her lap. We have a weakness for each other. Being playful—things are up-tempo now.

Eating a Hard Boiled Egg.

Making her Hot Oat Bran with Blueberries. Rocky and Josiah walk through the front door. “Josiah! Hey man!” It’s good to see my brother. He’s been in New York for quite some time now. He tells me what it’s been like living in Brooklyn—the shows he’s played—the people he’s met.

Eating a Grilled Cheese with Tomato.

Compiling voicemails I’ve saved on my phone and recording them onto my computer.

I observe Doug wake up randomly and grab a jug of laundry detergent. He unscrews the lid and is about to take a sip. I warn him, “Whoa. Whoa. What are you doing?” Wow. What would he have done if I weren’t there? Call poison control I guess.

Eating Brussel Sprout Au Gratin with Fruit and Nut Loaf.
Watching Hard Eight [1996].

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

Drinking Chocolate Milk. Watching the movie.

Sleep 8:15 a.m.

Wednesday November 24 2010



DREAM: Upstairs in my parent’s room—in the first house I lived in on Goodard Drive, when my sister was still alive. On the bed—a sexual escapade with a beautiful unfamiliar Asian girl. It’s frustrating at times because she keeps putting her pants back on even after I take them off. And she won’t let me finish my orgasm. Eventually we get up. I hear my mom downstairs. She’s calling out my name. I don’t want her to know I’ve been in her room doing what we were doing. I go back to get my cell phone and personal things. She’s at the bottom of the stairs and notices the girl, “Oh…” “Hey mom, this is…” I introduce my new friend.


6:20 p.m. I get out of bed.


My nose is tamer now. But my body aches a little.


Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar, and Blueberries. Immune Defense Drink.


Talking to my dad on the phone—family conflicts with his sister Pansy. He expresses to me how happy he is being with Erika, his wife. He feels like a sort of savior to her. He goes on a genuine spiel about how the older he gets the more he feels he should do for others.

I’m probably not going to see him like I planned—I’d rather be healthy and well, and on a somewhat normal sleeping schedule.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.


In the kitchen, Doug and I are making Grilled Cheeses.

Elaina’s dad is standing there at the door recounting the golden years when he was our age. “Man I remember seeing The Circle Jerks play at The Wave…it was the best fucking concert I’ve ever seen.”

Talking about a house show he saw where Crucifix, an 80’s punk band, played, “I was sitting next to the guy, the lead singer, you know with a green mohawk and liberty spikes. He’s just eating a can of beans he stole from the fridge. And I’m thinking these guys are rats. They’re just walking human rats that can play guitar.”

“I remember tripping out my first time…I’m clean now…but Lynyrd Skynyrd performed a concert right on the tip of my eyeballs!”


Watching I’m Still Here [2010] with Doug. “…is a portrayal of a tumultuous year in the life of actor Joaquin Phoenix. With remarkable access, the documentary follows the Oscar-nominee as he announces his retirement from a successful film career in the fall of 2008 and sets off to reinvent himself as a hip hop musician. The film is a portrait of an artist at a crossroads and explores notions of courage and creative reinvention, as well as the ramifications of a life spent in the public eye.”

A hoax of a hoax?


Stretching. Ab crunches.


Art wants me to help him sell this 3 in 1 coffee maker valued at $65. He won it on www.QuiBids.com for like $2. On this website you can win all kinds of stuff at incredibly cheap prices.


I’m kind of craving some coffee but concerned it might not mesh well with my sickness. So I type it into google and find some information on “Yahoo Answers”. This is frustrating because everybody’s submission holds the opposite opinion from the other. “I think our fate as a Google generation is confusion.” If my mother told me it wasn’t good to drink coffee when you’re sick, I would believe her. But now that I have access to beliefs from a guy in San Francisco, a girl in Austin Texas, a woman in Canada, and an Asian in New York, I am left to a choice, a choice to believe who I want to believe. Google lacks individual experience. But how in the world would we survive without him?


Drinking Green Tea and eating a Hard Boiled Egg.


Margot stops by. She’s concerned about our dirty laundry being out there for the public to read, more importantly to our friends. People will make their judgments about our relationship. And they will make their judgments about me. But “no one will ever know what it’s like to be us.” Nobody knows what it is like to really be me—the conflicting emotions going on in my head. I can only write so much and then only convey a portion of a feeling of an experience. But that’s the whole point of this blog/journal project. My life is an open book. You’re not forced to read it. When I’m done (if I’m ever done) then I’ll have a whole year of my life documented. Who knows, maybe 30 years or 40 years documented.

Apparently, when I write about her I make her look dumb. My intention is to portray the reality of a situation; sometimes only a snippet is needed. If only I had my own film crew shooting all these outrageous scenarios then maybe you would understand the behavior. Yes, sometimes people look dumb, act dumb, and say dumb things. I have my share. It happens; we let the worst get the best of us.


Dumpster Diving at Trader Joe’s. OMG! SO MUCH FOOD….The biggest haul I’ve done yet.

Eggs, Salmon, Tilapia, Turkey, Chicken, Peanut Butter filled Pretzels, Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups, Eggplant Parmesan Meals, Brussels Au Gratin, Grapefruit, Apples, Plums, Persimmons, Peppers, Pita and Hummus, and bags and bags and bags of Bread of all sorts.



Eating Persimmons, a Blueberry Scone, and Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.


I’ve taken most of the bags of bread and put it out on the porch—free for the taking. I posted a free ad on Craigslist. I expect most of it to be gone. This will be my good deed for Thanksgiving.


Talking with my mom on the phone—she’s driving late a night from northern Florida headed home.


Eating a bowl of Chicken Noodles Soup with Pita and Hummus.

Watching The Human Centipede: First Sequence [2009]. A modern horror flick—quite sick and twisted—unpredictable—but exactly as it sounds. Roger Ebert refused to even assign this movie a star rating saying, “[The film] is what it is and occupies a world where the stars don't shine.”


Sleep around 8:30 a.m.

Tuesday November 23 2010




DREAM: ☼ Communist Adoption ☼ “How’s the rest of the family?” I ask. In conversation with Christy McCloud (my old youth leader back in the day) on the sidewalk just outside of some restaurant she started working at. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her in waking life. She seems battered from time. Two boisterous girls drive into the parking lot. They get out of the car, march over to Christy, and begin ridiculing her—talking down to her with such an adolescent attitude. They stop all of a sudden and apologize, “We didn’t mean any of that.” But whatever they said really upset Christy. I see it in her face—she’s about to cry. I walk by the scene with a big pot of water (I told Christy I would boil some eggs for her before we started our trip). Just as I pass one of the mean girls I dump all the water on the top of her head. I’m cursing and yelling at them, “Get the fuck out of here! You think I’m playing?” Banging the pot on the cement as a sign that I’m serious. They scramble into their car. Pretending that I’m about to slam the pot on the window, instead only causing a scrape. Trying to control my anger just a little. I kick the passenger side door creating dents. I realize they’re having a hard time getting the car in reverse. Christy walks over to me but she’s my mom now—and younger. Surprised by my actions, “I didn’t think you had any communist in you?” Because of this unpredictable behavior she says something that insinuates I was adopted when we lived in Germany with my dad. “Yeah your dad didn’t want me to be alone at home with nothing to do while he was at work…so we sponsored you.” I’m speechless and try not to act shocked. Right at that moment a weird version of a black Cadillac pulls up—straight out of a comic book or something. A big black family is riding in it. I see a black midget holding onto the metal bars behind the grill of the car—as if that’s where he always rides when the family goes somewhere.


I can’t even get out of bed till 6ish p.m.


I thought I could get through the rest of this year without getting sick but here I am with a scratchy throat and runny nose.


Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar, and Blueberries. Immune Defense Drink. Ibuprofen.


I miss Ambrotious:


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips and 3 Perogies. Honey Oolong Tea.

Finishing Afterschool [2008]. In the style of Gus Van Sant, this film is powerful in a subtle way.

“This is the most politically charged statement of youth and the present tragedy of their inability to be children, without laying a single hand on the blatant constructs of political commentary.” – taken form IMDB message board.


There’s a rainbow halo around the moon tonight.


Poker with Art, Roma, and James G. Art wins.

My nose is running like crazy.

Eating a Kiwi and sipping on Honey Lemon Mint Tea.


Practicing songs at the storage unit.


Dinner: Macaroni and Kidney Bean Vegetable Soup. Butternut Squash Soup. Garlic Bread.

Watching Once Fallen [2010].


Uploading a live recording from a Musicplayer show:



Plugging my nose with tissues constantly. I feel useless.


A hot shower is good for the spirits when you’re sick.


Using the Neti-Pot—warm saline solution flowing through the nostrils.


Eating a small bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat Cereal.


Sleep around 8 a.m.

Monday November 22 2010



DREAM: Just got out of class at Ocean Lakes High School. Looking for a school bus. “What number am I looking for?” My black comrade tells me “58” but he wants us to get on the bus at different times. “Act like we don’t know each other.” We split up. This bus has a backside door and a frontside door. I can see how terribly crowded it is inside. He gets on through the backside door and joins his other black friends. Afraid of receiving heckles from the black people. It’s probably safer up front. I walk up to the front door but the bus starts to drive on. Waving my hand to the woman driver who completely disregards my presence. The bus continues to move. I sling my book bag against the window in anger. “What the fuck! I’m right here! Let me on!” The woman signals something to me. After acting like an idiot, I realize she’s only doing a test run around the lot and was planning on coming back around to pick me up. By that time I’ve already started my trek home on foot, which isn’t too far anyway.


My alarm goes off at 4:20 p.m. I can’t seem to get myself out of bed.

Waking up again around 5:45 p.m.


Hazelnut Coffee with Sugar.


One of the first songs I ever recorded was just featured on a documentary short that was shown at a film festival in Oregon. http://vimeo.com/17071322

The password is “PO2010” to view it and the song plays at about 4:20.


Big Lots, Trader Joe’s, Target.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.


Business. Scheduling.


Practicing at the unit.


Banana.


Stretching. Crunches.


Dinner: Fried Cod Fillets. Perogies with Yogurt Dill Dip. Broccoli and Mixed Vegetables.

Watching Cube Zero [2004].


Back to the unit—more practicing. I can’t stop playing this new song—the invigorating feeling of a fresh melody—ah, it’s alive!


Feeling the very early stages of a runny nose and a cold.


Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat Cereal with a little Honey.


Watching Afterschool [2008].


Sleep 8 a.m.

Sunday November 21 2010



DREAM: I walk into Winston’s Café but it looks different—more spacious but with the same narrow hallway (typical of a dream to remodel a waking life environment). A lot of people are around—waiting for the show to start. Richard Misfeldt greets me. We embrace with a strong hug. Feeling jovial, “Oh no. You get a second hug!” I reach in for another one—we almost fall over. Sitting down at the bar next to Margot—Jon Reynolds is one seat over, not talking much. Margot is explaining something to me. In the middle of it I notice her mouth stops moving yet I still hear her say one last thing, almost telepathically. I respond to it as if it were just a part of the conversation. And she continues on. I interrupt, “Wait! I think I just read your mind, like I heard your thoughts.” Nonchalantly she says, “Yeah I think you did. Weird.” Yolinda brings over a plate of food for Margot. On it is a small slab of steak (sort of raw and cartoonish looking) and some form of potatoes. I look down at a computer screen (I guess it’s my laptop). On the Wikipedia page looking for information regarding the telepathic incident that just happened. I click on a new section of Wikipedia entitled “Earner’s Crob”. Under it are six subjects dealing with various elements like food, intangible things, blah blah blah. Tyler Watts is across the way sitting at the bar with us. Discussing with him and other guys what section of Earner’s Crob telepathy would be in. I feel a sensation of disconnect because the conversation we’re having is scientific—everyone else around us thinks we’re geeks.


4:30ish p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Oatmeal Breakfast Bar. Orange Juice.


Work at China Wok.

Number of Non-Tippers for this shift: 1

First Non-Tipper

Race/Description: Black Male in 30’s

General Location: Chanticleer

Type of Residence: Medium Sized Apartment

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): ***

Amount of Order: Over $22.10

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Neutral


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.

Starting Cube 2: Hypercube [2002].


Banana.


I invite Doug to play basketball. It’s a foggy misty night. Stuck at the half court spot for the last shot in Around the World. Over and over and over again we take turns shooting. Finally we both get at least one shot in.

Walking back to the house, two dudes and a girl are hanging out on the tailgate of a truck. One of them spouts out to us, “You know what the greatest gift God ever made is?”

Doug: “What’s that?”

Dude: “Charleston Chews!”

Doug: “That’s awesome.”

Other Dude: “No, sir. You’re awesome!”


Eating a little Pita and Hummus, and Yogurt with Blueberries.


I go to Margot’s place. Lounging on the couch. Narnia on the TV. Mmm. Nice.

The volume of her body parts is the most pleasing to me. I can’t resist grabbing and squeezing all of them.

Love-making.


Back at home—eating Dinner: Macaroni and Kidney Bean Vegetable Soup with Garlic English Muffin Bread.


Working on a new catchy crunchy song on guitar at the storage unit.


Chocolate Milk and Cinnamon Apples.


Finishing Cube 2.


Sleep 8 a.m.

Saturday November 20 2010




DREAM: ☼ Cookie Death ☼ Walking down the street of Dunbarton Drive in Emerald Point Apartments (I used to live here with my mom). There’s a little boy with me. We pass a familiar dumpster that growing up always had a lot of cool stuff. The boy wants a toy to play with. Just outside the perimeter of the dumpster I see various toys in good condition. Around the corner I meet up with his father. “Where is he?” he asks. “Oh he’s just looking for some toys over there,” I reply. I see the boy peek out from the wood fence surrounding the dumpster. The father opens up the door to his apartment (which happens to be the same apartment my mom and I lived in so long ago). But the layout is much different. The father saunters off into his bedroom. The boy has morphed into a dirty white terrier dog. I’m petting and rubbing him all over. He goes to eat out of his tiny food and water bowl. He lifts his left leg up and hops in a funny way. There’s water spilt on the floor so maybe he’s trying to avoid it. I’m in a stranger’s home but I try to make myself feel comfortable. I’m very thirsty. Searching in the kitchen for a cup of water. There are chocolate chip cookies in the oven but they seem to be not ready just yet so I turn the oven on. The mother and the father are lounging in the living room. The mother mentions how confused she is as to why someone turned on the oven but then quickly recognizes the cookies turned out perfect. “That could’ve been the worst,” she says. I give my two cents, “No, what would’ve been the worst is if one of you two died.”


4:45 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Oatmeal Breakfast Bar. Orange Juice.


Work at China Wok.

On the go Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.


Rushing over to the guy Larry’s house to buy the speakers that go with the PA I bought from him yesterday.

MUSICPLAYER show at Winston’s Café along with Digging Up Virgins, The Vermilions, and Dylan Gilbert.


Doug has a shot of whiskey sitting in front of him that he wants to give away. I chug it on a whim.

Playing a pretty decent set. All acts performed a powerhouse set in my opinion.

I order a Tuna Steak for dinner—delicious. Yolinda gives me a Clementine to go with it.


Dylan and his drummer, John, are spending the night at the house. Dylan tells me about his guitar getting stolen from their show last night in Hickory, NC—terribly unfortunate. I share my own experiences with music gear thievery.


Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar.


Unloading equipment at the storage unit. Arranging.


Eating a Toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich.

Watching Cube [1997].


Sleep 8:15 a.m.

Friday November 19 2010



DREAM: ☼ The Shockwave ☼ In midair perspective viewing The Shockwave rollercoaster that Kings Dominion still has operating. It’s a unique stand-up coaster. It’s as if I’m watching a demo video of it in action. The train falls down the first hill and loop. It seems to be going incredibly faster than normal. A second train follows. All of a sudden I’m standing on the second train in the front car along with 3 or 4 other black kids. We just finished the upside down loop. We reach the point where the track actually ends and the train is supposed to cross through the air down a slope and somehow connect at the other end. The previous train made it just fine. But as we swoop down our car just misses the steel track bouncing off into the water. Underwater and hopeless at this point because the harnesses still have us strapped down. Mine is loose though. I start swimming and pull the rest of the car along—trying to keep the kids above water so they can breathe. Finally we make it to the edge of the lake. Pulling the kids out from the water. We’re safe. “I can’t believe that just happened!” Talking with a few people nearby. Trying to convince a man that a rollercoaster is safe despite what just happened to me, “You have a higher chance of getting into a car accident than on a rollercoaster!” I think my dream confused that statistic with airplanes.


Just after 6 p.m. I wake up.


Kenneth walks in while I’m preparing breakfast in the kitchen. He wants me to help him sell a bass guitar and bass amp. He tells me about an idea he has for solar powered rooftops and collecting rainwater. This man is full of ideas and creative ventures. He has a conspiracy that people are going missing and the government is covering up why this is happening.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc.


Craigslist business.


Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.


Meeting with an older man named Larry at his house in Chesapeake. His son-in-law died recently at 37 of a heart attack—sad story. So he’s selling all his son’s music gear. I buy his loop pedal and PA box.


Attending the Long Division and The Late Virginia Summers show at Winston’s Café.

Rocky: “You look young and healthy.” Even at the young age of 26 I feel relieved to know I still look young.

Listening to The Late Virginia Summers, a two-piece instrumental band with a loud comedian drummer. Drawing a picture in my moleskin.

Eating a Banana.

Power is easy to fake. Or is that what power really is? Just an act…an act of confidence—a show that one has the guts to pretend to be more dominant than the other.


At home, Margot brings over pizza. Eating more slices than my body needs and drinking a Michelob Lager.

She’s so beautiful. And the sex we have is beautiful.

Because our sleeping schedules do not line up we can’t sleep together (as in actual sleeping in the same bed). She complains. And then says mean things to me. Margot is a meanie-head.


Practicing songs at the storage unit.


Drinking Chocolate Milk and finishing Brooklyn’s Finest [2009].


Fixing up a sound system in the computer room.


Sleep 8:30 a.m.

Thursday November 18 2010



DREAM: ☼ The Fall ☼ In a gymnasium—a lot of people gathered for some small time event. I start hammering this pile of snow and ice on the floor. All of a sudden a friend and I are riding this pile of snow and ice down a narrow iced track from the top of the gym (like a bobsled). We’re going at an incredible speed and it’s getting progressively faster the further down we go. Coming around a corner the iced track cuts off in mid air. In a flash I grab hold of a pole and we swing down to the floor—snow and ice splatter all over the place. My friend swoops across to the other side and I lay down baffled by what just happened. Talking with one of the chaperones or persons putting on the event, “I don’t understand how I survived that fall!” None of it made sense to me. It’s like I was trying to understand the science of the dream’s antics with my waking life’s mind. Now I’m sitting down on the floor at the bottom of the bleachers—everyone sitting behind me. A movie is being projected on the white wall of the gym. Mab is to the left of me. She lays her head on my shoulder in an affectionate manner but also in a brother/sister like fashion. Later on, I notice Margot plop down to the left of me with a disgruntled face.


Just after 6 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Selling my old soft guitar case to a lady and her son. I say to the 12-year-old boy, “That case has done good to me. I hope it does the same for you.”


She calls me. We talk for 1 hour and 40 minutes and 9 seconds.

We both make it clear to each other that the relationship is inadequate. She even brings up an astrology comparison. According to it, we can choose to be with each other and it could work but it will be difficult—we actually don’t match.

I have the small plastic Hello Kitty container in my hand, the one she gave to me for Easter. Opening it up and smelling the residue of chocolate. “You’re everywhere, Margot! You’re in my head. You’re in my hand.”

For the last 30 minutes, she’s forcing me to make a decision about us. I refuse to answer. I’m afraid. “Fine! I’m calling you when I get out of Harry Potter.”


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Felon [2008]. I was expecting another gritty drama prison movie but I was surprised to find the best gritty drama prison movie I’ve ever seen. Despite the violence and extremely hostile situations it touched an emotional heartstring for me in a way that was strangely relevant.

“When your life is defined by a single action you change the concept of time.”


Stretching. Crunches.

Going for a run—listening to new tunes.


Downloading music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs1bG6BIYlo


Dinner: Macaroni with Vegetable Soup, Kidney Beans, and Mixed Vegetables. Pita and Hummus.


Margot sits down in my computer chair and pretends to be me typing…

“I am in a place that’s dark and cold. But then I flap my arms and fly away and land on a beachy rock. Beachy is a word. Beachy rock is a place.

DREAM.

THAT WAS MY DAYDREAM. SO MUCH BETTER CAUSE MARGOT MADE IT UP IN MY HEAD. SHE’S SO AWESOME. I LIKE HER A LOT. A LOT. A LOT. IM NOT DONE POOPY HEAD. NOT ENOUGH, NEVER ENOUGH.

GOODBYE NIGHT.”


Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Sugar.


Practicing songs at the storage unit.


Watching Brooklyn’s Finest [2009].


Sleep 9 a.m.

Wednesday November 17 2010



DREAM: Everybody around me is infected with some kind of biological virus that’s turning them into hostile monsters. The building I’m in has a train system constructed into it. Chris Remaley is with me but we split ways to confuse the monsters. I hop onto this white moving platform—it doesn’t produce a lot of speed and sometimes I have to push the ground with my feet to gain any momentum. It doesn’t feel like I’m in any sort of a subway or train. It seems more like one of those scary carnival rides that takes it’s time so you can see every scene. My platform is moving quite efficiently now. Every time I pass a train station I expect to see one of those horrible things, and sometimes I do, and they scream a horrible roar. The platform is shifting corners left and right, going down hills. I notice there is no track and two slanted edges are carved into either side of the front end of the platform making it easier to turn I guess. I fear the mob of infected humans will be trying to greet me at the other end. I make it to the last train stop, which is in some European country. Chris is here. He’s eager to run outside but I stop him in caution, “Wait!” All the people around us seem to be acting normal and not paying any mind to us. There’s a ticket booth nearby the entrance to the outside where they’re selling train tickets I suppose but it also looks like we have to have passports to go anywhere. Something doesn’t feel right about these people. Discussing it with Chris. I approach a female stranger and ask if they are normal and explain that we are too. With a sinister smile she replies, “Well…let’s see if you are,” and pushes me into the sunlight. My skin starts to burn. I pull back into the shadows of the station. Am I a vampire? “What’s going on!” The strangers go about their business. These normal looking people must still be infected but matured to a level of control over it. Back in the station I have a confrontation with a man in the immature stage of infection. He’s constantly grabbing me. I hold his arms back. He wears that familiar sinister smile on his face. Feeling uncomfortable ticklish sensations in the groin area and other places. This is a long and drawn out situation and no matter how much I push him and leave him, he persistently returns. Finally, I start yelling at him and cursing. As soon as I yell, “You’re a dumb fuck!” He stops and his face turns expressionless—wide eyes and no sinister smile. That’s it! This is how we fight them. I realize that just by shouting insults I can change their maturity level of infection back to its beginning stages, and they becomes more zombie-like and weak-willed. I walk further down the hallway of what seems like a school—classrooms everywhere. A group of infected teenagers approach me. I yell and scream at them with every curse word I can think of. It works like a charm. They become harmless. If I keep this up I’ll survive until I wake up…


Around 6 p.m. I get up.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Buying some speakers from a nice couple on Mae Place.

Trader Joe’s.


Lunch: Hard Boiled Egg. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.


MUSICPLAYER practice at the storage unit. Going over the set and tweaking songs for this Saturday.

Kal: “I really enjoy being in this band!”


At home. Doug didn’t go to the Chick-fil-A grand opening. But he can draw the state of Virginia on an Etch A Sketch in under a minute.

Eating Sautéed Apples in Cinnamon Sauce and a slice of Pizza.


At the unit testing out the new speakers.


Stretching and doing ab crunches.


She wants me to come pick her up from Harpoon Larry’s because she’s been drinking. I didn’t even have a chance to oblige before she hung up on me. She ends up driving home herself. She calls me bitching and complaining about how much of an asshole I am and how much I suck. “You’re a bad boyfriend!” Blah blah blah. Really? There’s nothing I did that called for these accusations. All because she’s impatient and expects immediacy. Alcohol tends to only unearth negative repressed emotions in her. I hang up and turn my phone off.

She shows up to my door tipsy and wet eyed. “Surprise!” I’m not that surprised. I try to explain that I’m not going to talk to her in this manner. “You’re drunk, Margot. I’m not talking to you like this.” Persistent she is and obnoxiously upset. I really don’t understand where this came from and why at such a dramatic level.

She’s sitting in her car and holding down the horn as I walk away. If I go inside she’ll continue. Leaving the porch and into the street, “You know what? I’m running away!” So that’s exactly what I do. Taking off around the corner of Michigan and Louisa. I just keep running. As she drives around the corner in search of me, I dive behind a car and hide. I take a much needed walk around the neighborhood.


Dinner: Macaroni with Vegetable Soup, Kidney Beans, and Mixed Vegetables. Garlic Bread.

Watching The Book of Eli [2010].


Researching why my ankles haven been so itchy lately.


Thinking.

Gosh, she can be so aggressive and cruel! Just as much as I feel stressed, I also feel bad for her. I really care. I do. I see psychotic qualities in her. I see beautiful qualities in her. I see insecurity. I see passion. I see hate. I see affection. If only I could see real love—the kind of love that’s patient and forgiving.


Eating Blueberry Muffins with Chocolate Milk.

Finishing The Book of Eli. Feeling quite inspired after watching this movie. It combines the emotion of The Road [2009] and the fierce action of Mad Max [1979] into one film.


Listening to the ethereal soundtrack of The Book of Eli.

Engaging my thoughts—feeling a sense of release and surrender—serenity.


Sleep 9 a.m.

Tuesday November 16 2010



DREAM (yeah this is a long one): Crawling through a drainage pipe system—the circumference is just big enough for me to crawl on my hands and knees. The design and grid is in the shape of a ladder and the walls are wrapped in some kind of plastic, so it makes a loud crinkle sound every time I move. I’m at the very far end of the system. I can see all the way to the opening where I entered. It’s nighttime outside making it uncomfortably dark where I am. I’m just sitting still for the moment when I hear a crinkle sound coming from the entrance. I can’t see what or who it is. I know it’s looking for me. I could crawl around the other side but I can’t stand the suspense. I have some kind of plastic cylinder piece on hand. I decide to move forward slowly using the cylinder as a shield. The distant crinkle sounds get closer. Finally, I’m face to face with the stranger in the dark but only for a second. It dives through the cylinder I’m holding and straight onto me. I imagine the worst but come to find out it’s only a little girl, and then it changes to a live stuffed animal dog, and then into a real puppy. ☼☼☼ With two other people preparing to eat just outside of an apartment on the grass. I throw down a huge chunk of pork meat cooked medium rare onto a slab of wood on the ground. I take a bite—soft—chewy. I don’t particularly like the idea of eating pig or the fact that it’s slightly rare. Feeling sick. ☼☼☼ Jogging towards the beach—many other joggers around me. I’m near the front. Wearing stiff black jeans (making it harder for me to run) and my long sleeve red and white sweater (which is pulled down covering my hands). The closer we get to the beach the harder it is to evade tourists along the way. Trying to keep my legs moving at a steady pace even when we stop to cross the road. I veer off to the right and make a stop at a small hotel, which is built in the middle of green vegetation. Inside, in a hotel room or maybe it’s just the foyer. A mom and her daughters and sons of various young ages are hanging out here as if I just intruded into their room. The mother disapproves of my presence and immediately begins judging me out loud—condemning me for things she’s scared I’m going to do like “…hurt my daughter!” Feeling annoyed. “Mam, I have no interest in your girls. I’m just trying to get out of here.” The room is full of windows. I attempt to open one but it’s too small for me to fit through. For some reason I don’t think about exiting through the door I came in. I notice all the daughters standing there just watching with curiosity. I open a window to the side of the building. At this point the mother informed the manager. Quickly I jump out of the window, but have to be careful because I’m barefoot—trying to balance my feet on a wire fence. I make it around to the front of the hotel where the woman manger and mother discover me. They’re on the balcony, faces in scorn. I head to the beach down a sandy path. I look back at the windows to the hotel—all the daughters are staring at me. I wave at them in a playful manner. One of the older ones (a little closer to my age) meets me on the boardwalk. I notice in the driveway of the hotel the yellow roof lights of a tow truck. My minivan is parked there. They called a tow truck on me! Thinking about how relentless the tow truck companies are here at the beach I run back only to find my mom and Jimmy driving in their own minivan. Something’s wrong with them because they keep slamming into the back of my van causing it to jam into a wood pole. No damage is caused. They continue doing this. It looks like a bubble effect except nothing pops. My mom rolls down the window. I demand an explanation, “What the fuck are you doing?” They’re out of the van standing with me—the woman manager and the other mother standing there as well. Pointing at the manager and trying to explain to my parents, “She’s going to tow away my van!” My voice starts cracking as if I have Laryngitis. Something is really wrong with my mom and Jimmy, like they’re on drugs or something, maybe high. The mother comments to me about my parents, “So this is your cracked up parents,” as if this made sense considering her disdain for me. It’s becoming a stressful situation. Feeling embarrassed. Jimmy pulls me aside and, while smoking the small butt end of a cigarette, in some joking way reprimands me for getting so uptight.


Just after 5:30 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Meeting Vanesa, a writer for http://www.examiner.com/norfolk, at Barnes & Noble for a Musicplayer interview. Sipping on Coffee with Cream and Honey—talking about my experiences in music and touring. Getting into a long discussion afterwards about various topics including travel, dreams, and careers. Noticing how I tend to rant on when talking with somebody for the first time as if it’s my first and only chance to explain everything I can about my life or anything in general.


At home.

Art is too tired to play poker tonight.

Eating a Grilled Cheese with Honey Green Tea.

James G. stops by. He needs a friend to listen and talk with about a difficult situation he’s dealing with currently. Sharing my own related experiences. Having, for lack of better term, “bro time”.


Snacking on Salt N Vinegar Chips.

Watching The Crazies [2010].


Playing music at the storage unit for almost three hours. Fine tuning melodies and songs. Feeling overwhelmed with music, in a positive way.

I can hear the leaves rustling on the tin roof.


Dinner: Salmon with Onions, Broccoli, and Butternut Squash Soup.

Finishing The Crazies.


Eating a Blueberry Muffin. Chocolate Milk.


Organizing files on external hard drives.


Playing guitar on the porch. Roma walks outside and discovers me, “Morning music!”


Sleep 9 a.m.

Monday November 15 2010



This is my 300th entry. At least 65 more to go.


DREAM: I’ve just entered a house that’s floating on the water in a harbor—I can see the pier just outside the window. It’s understood that this is Felix’s house—he’s in his room rearranging stuff. But I can’t see him because I’m near the front. The house starts to tilt dramatically, almost 45 degrees. Whatever Felix is doing is causing this—I assume it’s on accident. Everything is centered back now. Standing in a foyer—black wood panels perimeter the room and act as walls but it’s transparent and I can stick my hand through if I wanted. I come to the edge of one of the non-walls and notice a big fish tank with lots of exotic species of fish swimming in it. “I didn’t know you had pet fish, Felix?” There’s a dresser and nightstand to the right—all of this within a narrow hallway. I touch the carpet where I’m kneeling and it’s shockingly wet. Suddenly I realize the whole house is filled with water, but it’s an invisible kind, and somehow I can still breathe air. Taking a few breaths just to check. The exotic fish are out of their tank and swimming around me. One of them seems fond of my presence and keeps encircling my right ankle. Even when I walk away it follows. Aaron enters the house and warns me that they can and will bite you eventually. With this new knowledge I carefully make my way out of the black paneled room and into the hallway where the fish cannot follow as if there is an invisible barrier.


Waking up from a heavy sleep 6:09 p.m.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Returning some cords to Radio Shack.

Target.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Surrogates [2009]. “Set in a futuristic world where humans live in isolation and interact through surrogate robots.”


Doug tells me about the Chick-fil-A that’s opening up in Portsmouth. The first 100 people that show up at 6am on Wednesday get 52 free meal tickets each but have to stay on the property until 6am the next day. Apparently this happens at every Chick-fil-A’s grand opening.


Practicing songs at the storage unit.


Stretching. Ab crunches.


Dinner: Penne Pasta with Peppers, Onions, and Boursin Cheese. Garlic Bread.

Finishing Surrogates. Discovering the boyish crush I have on Radha Mitchell.


Transferring files onto my new USB powered 1 terabyte hard drive I just got in the mail.


Researching. Business.


Early morning run around the neighborhood. It’s usually dark out when I do this. But the sun is just rising creating a luminescence I rarely see anymore—the colors of the houses—the colors of the leaves.


Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar.


Playing a little Unreal.


Sleep 8:45 a.m.

Sunday November 14 2010



DREAM: On the side of the road. I’m at a standoff with a fat man in a brown suit. I’m squatting—barely moving—holding my gun with both hands. The criminal is on the other side of the car. I can see his feet shuffling. He doesn’t seem to have good aim. Without even moving I am able to shoot him a few times in the leg. He falls down and I shoot him in the chest. I walk around to where he should be but he’s changed. Now he’s an attractive Mexican woman. I’ve got her pinned down inside the trunk of a car. She’s been holding out on information that could end this case. I shove my gun pointing in the center of her forehead. “I’m gonna blow your muthafuckin head off!” Pointing the gun in different areas of her head and cursing repeatedly—feeling the need to punish her for what she’s done. Tommy Lee Jones, the actor, walks over to help. I go over and update him. I look back at the woman and her bullet wounds seems to have healed instantly. “She has regenerative abilities! Look!” Trying to convince Tommy Lee Jones that something is seriously wrong here. It’s understood now that she should leave. As she attempts to get into the drivers seat of the car, I grab her by the shoulders and pull her back towards us. Both of us side by side leaning against the car—Tommy nearby. She never gave us any information so I demand it, “Explain your involvement!” Starting to warm up to her. Maybe she’s not involved in any of this and maybe I’m overreacting.


4:30 p.m. I wake up.


Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.


Work at China Wok.


Delivering an order near Waterfront off Birdneck. I knock. She answers. “Darby! Stay back!” You open the door just enough to squeeze through so Darby, your big brown dog, stays put. “This is better,” you say. Thinking to myself another dog, another customer. This one is wearing tight blue jeans, a plain white sweater, and a dirty blonde ponytail—maybe a mom but definitely not single and definitely not dressed to impress. I watch as you turn and lean your hands against the wall to sign the credit receipt. Then, a sudden change in feeling. This pose, even as normal as it may seem, presents itself in an attractive manner—the arch of her back and the way your body is twisted—not skinny in the least bit nor too big—perfect baby bearing hips. I switch my gaze to the clumpy pale wall—not a good substitute. The dog is sniffing desperately by the crack in the door—he can probably smell my thoughts. Turning to finish the transaction, your face greets me—I didn’t notice how lovely that was either. You smile. I smile. I say the thing I say to everybody else, “Have a good night,” and dart back to the van. On to the next hungry unnamed person.


Number of Non-Tippers for this shift: 1

First Non-Tipper

Race/Description: Caucasian Male in mid 20’s with a lot of tattoos

General Location: Colonial Arms

Type of Residence: Medium Sized Apartment

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): ***

Amount of Order: Over $10.17

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Neutral

Possible Reason for no tip/Experience: He answered the door in confusion as if he just woke up from a nap. My knock may have startled him. He seemed despondent and dull.


Target.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Blueberry Yogurt. Honey Green Blueberry Pomegranate Tea.


I ask Art to take a package to the post office tomorrow because I’ll be sleeping during their hours. I bake Blueberry Muffins in return.


Stretching. Ab crunches.


Margot walks in, “Is that a muffin peenie?” referring to the muffin picture I took.


Chit chatting in my room about things—she’s unhappy about the lack of money she’s been making at her job recently.


Sex.

Being close to you makes me warm inside.


Dumpster diving at Trader Joe’s: Apples, Peppers, Kiwi, Bagged Vegetables, Butternut Squash Soup, Boursin Cheese, Tilapia, and Mystery Can.

Dinner: Udon Noodle Soup with Vegetables.

Watching Religulous [2008].


Eating Pita and Hummus. Kiwi. Chocolate Milk.


On the documentary I watched Bill Maher had interviewed a Puerto Rican man claiming to be God himself, or rather the Anti-Christ. Discovering that this man is legit, or maybe not. You decide: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pinUjWv2__k


Thinking about how most if not everything I involve myself in is fleeting. I’ve put so much energy into so many things that, in the grander scale of things, are meaningless. But I choose not to give up on these meaningless and fleeting things because they are what make my life interesting and worth living for. Apocalyptic thoughts have their place in my mind but beauty interests me the most.


½ tbsp of Dream Juice.


Sleep 9 a.m.