Saturday January 22 2011

DREAM: Running. Running. Running. On an interstate—no cars on the road. Veering around the corner and up a slope that leads into the tunnel—walls on either side of me. I turn around and hold my hands up just as a group of guys who have been chasing me run out into the intersection. Immediately I raise my middle finger before they look over to see the offensive sign. Then, I start running some more, heading deeper into the tunnel. A door. I open it and step inside. It seems to be a locker room, and it’s full of bathroom stalls. Everything’s brown and rusted. I go to the last stall, the handicap one. There’s a square metal sheet bolted into the wall. I tear it out with ease in hopes I can escape through the ductwork, but it’s too compact for me to fit. I notice roofing above all the stalls and climb up on top of it. It’s very flexible and feels more like a blanket. I’ll just hide up here. I lie down on my back and situate my body. Kind of half-waking up at this point—realizing my body is in the same position as in my bed.

Just before 5 p.m. I climb out of bed.

Breakfast: Toasted Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Work at China Wok.

Delivering an order on Sandyville. The bulky black dude invites me in from the cold. His apartment smells like someone took a bottle of cologne and soaked the walls with it. It’s that strong Aspen or Calvin Klein stuff, too. It lingers on my gloves the rest of the shift.
An RV pulls out in front of me with a red spray painted statement on the back of it: “CHUCK NORRIS IS MY DAD—WHAT SON”

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

Driving Margot and I to Chris, Emily, and Tyler Yowell’s apartment for their birthday bash. She’s had a few drinks previously in the night before she met up with me and she’s blabbing on about silly things and being cute, but only for a little bit. Then, she gets frustrated about me keeping her car overnight the past two nights and is quite verbal about it. I mean, she has every right to feel upset because it’s her car and she’s letting me use it for my job until I get a new car. But she persists in making me feel guilty for even having the job and for using her car. The bitter words exchanged back and forth all the way to Graydon Street. Then, we just sit there, car parked, continuing this upsetting conversation—a few moments of silence to cool off. I wish I could’ve recorded the whole thing. It would be easier to understand how it got like this.
Time to go see our friends and put on the “life is great” face, which I do thoroughly believe is.
A chill and happy get-together. It’s rare that I get to visit this side of the water and see all the friends that ditched Virginia Beach for hip Norfolk.

“Happy Birthday, Chris. Here. I got you a bag of Salt n Vinegar Chips.”

I finally get to see the cat. It’s been quite a long time since Emily took him away from me. “Ambrotious…kitty.”

Teaching Elliott how to produce a realistic fart sound. This causes uncontrollable laughter.

Driving back home. Talking with her about what a “serious relationship” means to us individually. She describes a dream to me she had just the other night where I proposed to her. She had a hard time believing me, but said yes. Also, she was telling off a girl that tried to hit on me.

Doing the sex thang. Incredible as usual.

Dinner: Chicken from Kenneth, Broccoli, Garlic Bread.

Sitting down at the card table with her eating my dinner. She had just finished a burger meal from Wendy’s and out of nowhere, starts pestering me about affections I had with a girl from over a year ago, which is something I thought we had already discussed a long time ago. She’s starting to sound like a broken record and refuses to stop asking me about it. I answer her questions with simple answers. It’s not that I was afraid to talk about it. I just didn’t see the point and I knew this was going to ruin the positive energy we worked so hard to achieve tonight. Really, Margot? “Why are you bringing this up right now? This is irrelevant to anything and it’s counterproductive!” I lecture her about forgiveness and trust and how crucial it is to our relationship. “Why can’t you let go of the past? You tell me all the time that you love me but without forgiveness and trust, there is no love.” It’s kind of a funny scene because Kenneth just put on the movie Geronimo and curses out loud at the white men invading the Indian’s land. He gets a free ticket to our dirty laundry.

She wants to spend the night. I give her a quick hug, “Baby, I like you and I love you, but you’re stressing me out.” Then off to work.

Newspaper route.

Ginger Chews.

Coffee and Donuts.

I find myself singing a de-stressing blues chant (I wouldn’t take this too seriously):

Finally settling into bed next to her. Warm.

Sleep sometime after 8:30 a.m.

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