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.

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