Monday January 24 2011

DREAM: In a big house that was built in a new development area in Virginia Beach. Other 20-somethings my age were spending the night here. Margot and I stayed up all night. It’s about 8am and we’re trying to find a place to have sex. Every time we settle down somewhere, it feels uncomfortable. The kitchen. The patio. The hallway. There’s just too many ways for someone to walk in on us. Yet, somehow we’re able to actually do it. Realizing that some people are waking up now, we stop. Being on the second story, I point over the balcony at someone sitting on the couch, “See. They’re awake.” There’s some commotion in the kitchen too. I hear a girl singing something on a singular note. In another room is what looks like a baby grand piano. I run inside and start playing harmonizing melodies to go with what the girl is singing. I discover the piano only has 16 keys on it rather than the standard 88 keys.

Just after 5 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Apricots. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Business and scheduling.

Meeting and talking with two guys at their house where they run a taxi company called Roadrunner—I’m considering being a taxi driver—they give me the rundown of everything. There are kids marching around the house wrestling and playing with toys as we speak.

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Lettuce and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

The Basketball Diaries.

House meeting with the roommates. It goes well until the issue of particular guests freeloading off the house’s resources comes up. It’s not even just that. But there’s too much negative energy developing and lingering in this house and I’m not gonna take it anymore. Be reasonable. Be mature. Be respectful. Grow up.

Strawberry Yogurt.

Working on songs at the storage unit.

Back home.

Dinner: Homemade French Fries. Mixed Vegetables and Onions with Egg.

Margot’s here. Venting to her about how exasperating my day has been so far.

Me: “I cried all the time when I was little. But I don’t cry much anymore.”

Her: “I didn’t. Maybe that’s why I cry so much now.”

Newspaper Route.

Berger Cookies and Milk.

Back home.

Eating Cinnamon Roll Toast with Butter.

In my room counting quarters on the floor. Doug says, “You’re gonna get sick of quarters soon.”

“Soon?” On second thought, “I’ve actually grown to love quarters and hate every other coin.”

Sleep around 8:30 a.m.

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