Wednesday January 19 2011

It’s around 1 p.m. She’s waking up to go to the gym and work out. I can hear Kenneth’s voice reverberating through the walls. I can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or talking on the phone, but he just keeps going and going. It’s like putting on one of those cassette tapes and a narrator reads a whole book to you. No breaks or stops. I think he’s even singing at one point.

Attempting to go back to sleep. I’m too restless though. My head hurts. And there’s a lot of commotion outside my room—bickering, marching footsteps, harsh door slamming, yelling. It’s stressing me out.

Somehow I fall asleep with the help of earplugs.

Getting out of bed at 5:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Trader Joe’s and Target.

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

James picks up Brendan and I and we meet up at Becca’s place. Walking into the garage, she’s cutting her dad’s hair. Then she cuts mine.

Apricot. Hot Dark Chocolate. Popcorn.

Watching a Korean film called I’m a Cyborg, But That’s OK [2006], an imaginative story, “A girl who thinks she is a combat cyborg checks into a mental hospital, where she encounters other psychotics. Eventually, she falls for a man who thinks he can steal people's souls.” Slow moving at times but entertaining and beautiful in a way.


Quarter counting.

Dinner: Edamame. Polenta Provencale. Garlic Bread.

Newspaper Route.

Coffee from the old man. Blueberry Muffin from 7-11.

Jamming to my first love, melodic dance music, along the likes of Aqua, 2 Unlimited, The Real McCoy, and Dance Dance Revolution.

More quarter counting.


Kenneth is standing just outside the house rocking a homemade shawl and headband—resembling an Iraqi native—along with a Jewish star medallion and a silver cross around his neck. What a character.

Dropping off Margot’s car at her house. I step in just to say hi. She’s still in her pajama wear, Small Soldiers tee and yellow shorts. My cold hands feel good on her warm back.

Driving back home—a bag lady at the bus stop—photo-worthy.

Sleep 9 a.m.

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