Tuesday February 1 2011

Around 6 p.m. I drag myself out of bed.

Breakfast: Sesame Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Musicplayer practice at the storage unit.

Going through a set for Friday’s show in Williamsburg. Chris is “elaborating like whoa” on the drums—he’s a wizard.


Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. (Out of Salt n Vinegar Chips). Izze Grapefruit Soda.

Art and Roma show up to the house for poker. Change of plans, we decide to hang out at Tortilla West for Doug’s birthday. Sitting down at the table with friends—eating two Black Bean Tacos with Lettuce and Cheese.

Wesley mentions in his own way that he’s concerned about the lack of detail I provide in the blog. Sometimes I only mention the activity without the in-betweens. I try to explain there’s no way I can be detailed all the time. I need time to actually live and absorb the events without worrying about what to write later. And sometimes things become so routine and redundant that there’s not much more information to tell. But things do come along to break up the ordinary and make the day much more interesting to which I have to document.

Art wants some kind of hot sauce for his tacos, so I place a few options for him to use. He chooses Texas Pete’s Hotter Hot Sauce and doesn’t seem to handle it very well. He’s upset in a humorous way, the kind of upset that only Art can get, “I trusted you, Robert. Why did you let me try that?”

“Look Art. It says ‘Hotter Hot Sauce’!”

Rachel is sitting next to me. I notice what looks like a tattoo on her left shoulder, but it’s only black permanent marker. She says she doesn’t have a clue how it got there or who drew it.

Playing a few rounds of pool. I knock the cue ball off the table almost hitting Roma in the groin. Whoops. Not long after, another cue ball flies off the table directly on Doug’s right pocket where his iphone securely fits—the ball causes it to shut off. My pool game is totally off tonight.

Eating a bowl of Raisin Bran Cereal and Cinnamon Bunches with Milk.

Running the newspaper route—driving my new car—it’s like our first real date together, more like our honeymoon. The tape deck doesn’t work too well to use a tape adapter for my ipod but the radio works good. 103 JAMZ actually sparks my interest. Songs like Rihanna’s “What’s my name?” and B.O.B. “Nothin’ On You”. Tweaking the EQ of the stereo—cranking the bass—realizing that I’m that guy, you know the guy that’s sitting in the car next to you at the red light blaring the radio, bass thumping and there’s nothing you can do to avoid it. Returning the favor feels alright. A Nicki Minaj song comes on—Man, why do I like this so much?


Coffee from the old man and an Old Fashioned Blueberry Donut from 7-11.

Finally back home. The temperature outside has changed drastically—it’s spring weather—so refreshing. It’s been rainy all night and even though it’s stopped, the mist still lingers in the air. I breathe it in and watch the clouds pacing quickly across the morning sky. Ahh. This feels good. And it goes so well with the state of settlement I’m in now after going through so much frustration to get a new car.

Running some errands: Bank, Post Office, Advanced Auto, and Trader Joe’s.

Sleep 10:30 a.m.

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