Wednesday March 30 2011

DREAM: Someone informs me the world is going to end in the year 2011. As we’re walking along the sidewalk I see behind a fence in a vast field an army of creatures or monster-like people marching with intent to follow us. We make our way around the corner—they’re gaze is fixed on my path. I run…

Waking up sometime after 5:30 p.m. alone.

Breakfast: Organic Blueberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Work at China Wok.

Lunch: Chicken Salad Sandwich. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Apricot Mango Yogurt.

Kevin is moving his mattresses and stuff into the house—helping him with that. Approaching Kenneth in the backyard shed (his lair) for some rope. I’m stuck listening to his rantings about his sister and other junk.

Listening to Rachel over the phone.

Rachel: “It was like the icing on the inconsiderate cake…”

Organizing music.

Visiting the queen at work—I bring her a pretty flower—an expression of excitement on her face. We almost witness a bar fight come to surface between two agro drunk dudes—one of them slams a wooden chair into the floor. None of it makes any sense, but since when does inebriation bring any kind of sense to anyone.

Chatting with her about how our days went. She looks so happy.

She pops out a question, “So am I your girlfriend now?”

Both of us smiling. I’m thinking to myself, Well, that’s up to you. You’re the one who tried to leave me for a mistake. Did you really think I’d let you go that easily? Did you really think you could escape from me? And here we are. I’m gaining the upper hand again—letting you feel the pangs of desire and longing. To love and be loved in return is all I wanted. It’s all you wanted. It’s all anyone ever wants. Is this really happening? Do you really want to reclaim your rightful place as queen? Shall we rebuild this kingdom?

Me: “You know the only reluctance I have is you not trusting me and making me feel guilty. As well, I want to trust you. We have to give each other a clean slate. We have to trust one another. Trust comes with love.”

I don’t want you to see the ghosts of my past anymore. And I don’t want to see yours. I want you to see me as I am right now in front of you. The present “me” is strong and wise and full of affection for you like you’ve never known. I’m a Leo. I know how to be loyal and your life will always be interesting.

Dinner: Two Eggs with Polenta Provencale. Carrot. Fresh Garlic Bread. Chocolate.

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast AM—discussing clairvoyance and the power of the mind (mentalism).

Sipping on a beer and changing guitar strings. I hate changing guitar strings. But these new pink luminescent ones are pretty cool (thanks Margot).

Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Strawberries and Brown Sugar.

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

Sleep 9:30 a.m.

Tuesday March 29 2011

Waking up at 6 p.m.

Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.


Liquidating the house—organizing the attic—moving all my old keepsakes and things to make room for a few people moving up there.

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

James stops by. Sitting on the couch sifting through an art history book—Josiah puts on Blink 182’s Dude Ranch album (he’s really stoked about it: “All these songs are classic!”)

Mab and Jordan stop by—sharing wine with Aladdin on the TV.

Eating Strawberry Yogurt.

Showering—the queen calls me for a ride from Poon’s (her friend turned 21 and hired a party bus for the night). I’m here to serve. She’s slap silly drunk. I’ve got her in the passenger seat—listening to her stories—bar narratives about this guy and that girl and that drink and that place.

Passing the corner of Birdneck and VB Blvd…

Her: “Is Channelo’s open?!! I want pizza!”

We pull up and she discovers her credit card is missing—of course it’s the end of the world now—yelling and crying and demanding.

Her: “Where is my card?! Where is my…WHERE IS MY CAAAARD?!”

I try to be as patient as a sober boyfriend can be, but she’s thoroughly upset and her mood has reached maximum height. Attempting to ignore the parts where she lashes out on the person she cares about the most. I call the bank and we cancel the card. I grab the pizza and we jet back to my place despite all the insistent I want to go home!’s and I want my car now!’s.

In my room—chowing down on a few slices. She’s talking like a little kid…

Her: “I love pizzaaaaa!”

Lying down together in the freshly prepared futon bed I made earlier today. It’s a little bigger than the twin size mattress I’ve used ever since I was a little kid. I had a hunch you would be sleeping here tonight. Kissing—she’s whispering I love you’s. Getting on top of me—pleasure for both of us. Her sounds are more elaborative than in a sober state. You feel amazing. It doesn’t take much for me even though I try to endure as long as I can.

I’ve got the hype machine playing on the computer—Nancy Sinatra’s “Bang Bang” song starts up, a dubstep remix. Singing softly into my ear as we stand there grooving to the music, Bang bang, he shot me down. Bang bang, I hit the ground. Bang bang, that awful sound. Bang bang, my baby shot me down. I love that breathy tone in her voice. It’s such a turn-on that shoots straight through my body.

I lay her down in the bed.

Her: “Don’t go. Stay with me forever.”

Newspaper route.

Eating a little Pecan Tart Pie with Milk.

Coast to Coast AM—discussing Bigfoot: the latest findings and the validity of eye witness accounts.

Arriving back home—my baby is rustling in the bed—awakening. I tend to her and lie down for a little bit. She doesn’t remember having sex earlier but she remembers eating pizza.

That hot heat reverberates off her whole being—soft bare legs—cozier than a teddy bear. I love this energy. I want to be close—as close as I can get. Squeezing as hard as I can is the best I can do—imagining my body melting into her body. A little sex from behind—in no way would it be considered a quickie but invigorating nonetheless.

Me: “Thanks for the endorphins, honey.”

I head out of the house with a little green pack geared up with my ipod and her car keys with intent to jog to Harpoon Larry’s and drive her car back here. It’s a beautiful 3 mile trek as the sun is rising—listening to newly obtained jams from hype machine.

Dinner: Egg with a Salad and Fresh Garlic Naan Bread. Chocolate


Joining her in the sack. 9:11 a.m.

Monday March 28 2011

6 p.m. waking up.

Breakfast: An Orange. English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Work at China Wok.

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

Anthony, soon to be one of our attic dwellers, stops by—hanging out in the kitchen with Josiah, Rachel, and Dustin—making grilled cheeses. Anthony is inquiring about Kenneth—all of us sharing our own personal and entertaining experiences with him.

"Improvise, adapt, overcome, be self sefficent. MAke power plays!" –Kenneth

Juggling some lemons in my hands—“This is an example of a power play!”

A nice 30-minute chat with Margot on the phone.

Her: “I know. I feel dumb that I’ve seen you everyday for awhiiiiile and I still don’t want a day away.”

Recently, we’ve been treating each other like boyfriend and girlfriend—it’s always been this way. I feel satisfied. I feel needed. But I’m not singing any songs yet until I got a ring on my finger! Ha. Well, you know what I mean. It’s been nice at least to not have to write these distressing novella blog entries about rejection. I fought. And I’m still fighting for her love. The more presence I give her the more response I’m going to get. I will have her heart. She will have mine. She always claims to get what she wants. Well, honey, I get what I want too. And what I want is you.

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

Dinner: Eggs and Rice with Onions and Mixed Vegetables. String Beans. Fresh Garlic Bread.

Sharing some of the string beans and garlic bread with Dustin and Josiah. Rachel refuses to try anything. Josh and her are on the other couch exemplifying how they’re in a zoo.

Newspaper route.

Eating Pecan Tart Pie with Milk.

Coast to Coast AM.

Counting quarters.

Downloading music.

Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Strawberries and Brown Sugar.

Finishing Gummo [1997].

Sleep 9:30 a.m.

Sunday March 27 2011

DREAM: Something strange and catastrophic has happened to the world. I’m walking down a wide road—groups of people scattered everywhere—I see bloody bullet wounds on certain people as I pass them. No longer human—somewhat zombified—something has taken control of everyone’s mind. It’s understood that Walt Disney is the culprit behind it—like each person represents a memory in his life. The cops are working for him and they’re road blocking the streets. I’ve hooked up with a rebel group—trying to get past all this mayhem. We make it safely past a gate into a quarantined neighborhood or facility. We’ve been spotted. I jump up onto the roof of a house—attempting to hide and lay low behind the roofing and chimney walls. A woman cop follows me seeming to have the same ability of high jumping as I do. I float myself up higher into the trees just as she reaches out….

Actually getting out of bed at 6:07 p.m. I’m late.

Breakfast: Orange Juice. Strawberries. Zinc.

I got a text from Margot sent at 11:11 am: “I LOVE YOU”

Work at China Wok.

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

Rachel: "Hahah i just sneezed and my dad just went into a 55 minute rant about the 1623 flu."

Getting the queen some Chinese food from my restaurant, Gen Tso’s Chicken and Crab Rangoon. I deliver free of charge but “I expect a big tip from you!”

Sitting on the couch, she crawls up and plops herself on top of me—kisses.

Me: “You’re like a mermaid you just popped up to me.”

In a mischievous playful tone she says, “I’m thinking something that I can’t say out loud yet.”

Me: “Huh? What is it?

Her: “I can’t tell you!”

Me: “What?”

Her: “I can’t tell you yet.”

Me: “You can’t bring that up and not say it.”

Her: “I love you.”

Me: “You already said that.”

Her: “I just had a moment.”

Me: “Why can’t you tell me?”

Her: “It’s kind of embarrassing. I feel kind of weird saying it. I just had a love moment.”

Me: “Yeah.”

Her: “I was just thinking that I want to marry you.”

Me: “Aww.”

Searching for a movie on Netflix to put on. We settle on The Fall [2006].

Lying my head in her bosom. She pauses the movie at some point with sexual intentions. Mmm. I adore every cell on your body.

Sex. Making love. Fucking. Whatever you want to call it.

Me: “You’re so good. You satisfy me. You’re incredible.”

Her: “I love you.”

Me: “I love you too.”

Finishing the movie—the colors of the film, visually stunning—just as beautiful as I remember.

Tucking her into bed—leopard print bed sheets. She’s so cute—lovely.

Me: “I’m turning this light off. Good night.”

A heightened awareness of beauty is often confused with lust. I want to conceive a baby, not at a time when baggage and blemishes are relevant, but at a time when I have a heightened awareness of the unavoidable beauty.

Back home. Josiah, Josh, and a girl named Carly are on the couch singing songs.

Dinner: Egg and Rice with Onions and Mixed Vegetables. Fresh Garlic Naan Bread.

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast Radio—discussing UFO organizations.

Eating a Bowtie Donut with Milk from 7-11.


Popcorn. Hershey’s Bar.

Watching Fish Tank.



Sleep 9:30 a.m.

Saturday March 26 2011

DREAM: Playing a roulette style board game—a circular image printed onto the board, resembles a dartboard design. There’s about 10 players, some people I know, one of whom is the mental character from the movie Sling Blade (Billy Bob Thornton). The blue chips are moved along with every turn. I’m not sure how the game is played exactly…

Dragging myself out of bed sometime after 6 p.m.

Work at China Wok—Frustrated—5-mile orders are a waste of time.

I’ve got my mail with me, bills mostly. Nonchalantly looking through them in the car—insurance premium is higher now because of some stupid failure to yield violation.

I walk into the house—people are hanging out in the kitchen.

Someone asks, “How was your day?”


“Why did it suck?”

“The usual human crisis: money.”

Figuring out bills. Business. Money.

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

Starting a British gritty drama called Fish Tank [2009].

The kids brought back goodies from the dumpster.

I put on Gummo [1997] in the living room. The kids lounge on the couch while I stretch and exercise.

Taken from Wikipedia: {Korine comments on the film's pop-aesthetic, saying: "America is all about this recycling, this interpretation of pop. I want you to see these kids wearing Bone Thugs & Harmony t-shirts and Metallica hats - this almost schizophrenic identification with popular imagery. If you think about, that's how people relate to each other these days, through these images."}

Eating Blueberry Yogurt.

Margot calls me randomly while she’s at Poon’s, something about how she doesn’t like the people that are there, apparently Les’s friends. After I start inquiring more she hangs up the phone because she’s surrounded by people. On my on volition, I drive down there to see if she’s okay or maybe she might need a ride. Her eyes are wet and she’s been drinking—I can tell something’s wrong. I drive us back to her house—on the way I discover the more complex issues going on. She’s still battered from what happened with Les—feeling used and whatnot. It’s a strange thing because here I am, the one who she rejected first because of this guy—I’ve moved past what happened between them—Yet there’s still something she’s dealing with from it.

In the den, on her couch. The conversation isn’t even worth quoting. She’s not herself—not necessarily drunk but still a little inebriated, flustered, and emotional. I’m being as nice as I can be, but she’s saying incredibly mean and insensitive things to me. It’s nothing unusual in this kind of state she’s in. At any rate, eventually I leave on a softer note after finally getting her down to my level of affection.

I don’t believe the truth comes out when you’re drunk. In my experience, it’s bullshit that comes out, insecurities, fears, it’s more of an enhancer to whatever mood you’re already in. In the queen’s case, it was negative. There are no inhibitions. And any conflicting thoughts that are embedded in the mind will come out more easily. I see it all the time, not just with Margot, but other friends. It’s really upsetting to observe. Sometimes, entertaining, but mostly unnerving.

Here’s a good Yahoo Answers discussion on the topic:

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast Radio—an entertaining yet intelligent look on the effects of a possible Zombie Apocalypse and how we could adapt from surviving one.

Eating Dried Figs, some Ginger Chews, and a Blueberry Muffin with some Milk from 7-11.

Dinner: Egg and Rice with Onions and Mixed Vegetables. Fresh Garlic Bread.

Counting quarters—listening to the hype machine.

It’s after 8:30. Back to Margot’s to give her a ride to work. In the bathroom—fresh after-shower smell—I watch her blow dry and fix her hair. She’s so beautiful. I tell her this.

Back to my bed. Sleep around 9:45 a.m.

Friday March 25 2011

Last night the queen calls me right before I’m about to settle down into bed—she requests I come over and sleep in her bed instead. Geez. Of course. Even though I just drove out that way to drop her off to her car, I comply because I like the idea of sleeping next to her warm reverberating body.

DREAM: I arrive at the newspaper plant. As I roll the cart of yesterdays up the ramp, some lady that works there explains the room I usually collect papers in has moved. I get frustrated because it’s understood in my mind that things have been different all day and this is just one more thorn in my side. “So where am I supposed to go? Why is everything different today?” I lug my cart over to this other room that is dubbed “The Return Room” (for the newspaper returns). I approach Debbie, the supervisor, and ask, “Is this the return room?” I drop off my cart of papers and walk back outside to my car. Anna (Russian friend I met a few summers ago) is standing there—she’s a boss or something. Feeling an awkward affection towards her. I lift her arm up to my nose intending to kiss but only take a whiff as if beauty had a scent, which it does. Then, I walk away.

Margot wakes me up just before 5 p.m. She’s blow-drying her hair in the bathroom—Wrapping my arms around her chest and watch as she combs and fixes up her hair.
I head back to my house.

Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Ken and Emily are here to shoot some scenes from their film, In Passing.

I play a small role as a dude named Alonzo hanging out at Show N Tell who introduces his self and a friend to Emily, who plays a girl named Lauren. Shooting the scene in the attic—doing many takes. Part of the shot involves me lighting up a clove cigarette, which I have to do like 10 times, going through almost 4 in a row. Despite having never acted in a movie before, it felt natural—we did a lot of improvisation.

Making Grilled Cheeses for everyone—eating one with Tomato and Salt n Vinegar Chips, Honey Green Tea.

Emily makes mention to me about the Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups from Trader Joe’s. This thing is the new craze apparently. I love them. They’ve even sold out.


It’s a packed house with a slew of unique presentations from dance moves to song performances to comedy to random banter.

Louis is intrigued with the squishy sound a carrot makes when it penetrates the inside of a lemon. I coerce him and Josh to eat really thick raw cloves of garlic. Rachel is a witness.

Eating leftover Spaghetti with Marinara Sauce, Onions, and Peppers. A Carrot. Garlic Bread.

There’s a small dispute with a police officer about the noise—as well, he was looking for a girl in particular. It’s an awkward situation as he trots into the house by my side catching a glimpse of all the innocent madness going on everywhere—the Folk the System gang jamming on guitars—people dancing and being rowdy. Everybody shuts up at the sight of him. He leaves shortly after giving me a warning about alcohol being visible on the porch and such (the usual cop confrontation).

Just across the street from the Wawa nearby, a semi-truck trailer caught fire—17-foot flames! After seeing Kenneth’s van running nearby, Wesley’s convinced he had something to do with it, which isn’t the case but Kenneth sure did get some good photos.

Rachel tags along with me on the newspaper route.

At the plant—the paper truck is running late—she’s documenting my work through photos:!/album.php?fbid=10150114369491230&id=709546229&aid=280428

Me: “There’s all these subtle behavior signals that people give each other, even if it’s unintentional, just being alone with somebody opens up the door for some kind of intimate connection, not even just romantically. And there’s something special about that. And most people recognize that and take advantage of that. I mean why not.”

Looking back at the fresh pile of newspapers, she says, “We have tomorrow. No, we have today!”

Sniffing my fingers I reply, “I think I smell like garlic…and newspapers. That’s such a good combination of smells.”

Rachel: “Garlic and newspapers!”

Rachel: “I did a lot of avoiding tonight.”

Listening to random call-ins on Coast to Coast Radio with eyewitness accounts of Bigfoot.
Stop at 7-11 to get a Bowtie Donut and Milk.

Rachel: “I feel like I’m going to walk in on you eating a garlic donut one day.”

I drop her off halfway through the route.

Eating two Fried Eggs over Medium and a Hershey’s Bar.

Leaving the car at the shop.

Sleep 9:45 a.m.

Thursday March 24 2011

It’s 4:17 p.m. The queen just got back from the gym to wake me up (I asked her to last night cause there’s no way I’m getting up before 5 on my own).

Breakfast: Blueberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Watermelon.

Running errands together—post office—bank—Pet Smart—Trader Joe’s.

She’s obsessed with the idea of getting a puppy.

Me: “I’ll never see you again. You’re gonna be out with your friends and be like, I have to go home! And be with my puppy. You’re life will be over.”

Her: “Are you jealous of the puppy I don’t even have yet?”

Me: “Yes.”

Musicplayer practice at the storage unit—re-hashing old songs.

Eating a Banana.

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

Watching The Square [2008].

Working for the Google Overlord.

I walk out of my room and say to Josiah, “I think I’m turning into a computer.”

Eating Apricot and Mango Yogurt with Grapes.


Picking up the queen from Poon’s—she’s had a little too much to drink, not too much, just enough. Hearing her usual nightlife story where she’s with a friend at a bar and an incredibly nice or dumb guy buys her a shot or a drink, and this and that—bar drama. She’s wonderfully cute in this excited and drunkish state though.

Dinner: Brown Rice Spaghetti Noodles with Marinara Sauce, Onions, and Peppers. Fresh Garlic Bread.

In the kitchen sharing dinner with Josiah. She nibbles on some garlic bread and seems to be on a continuous rant and rave about how much she despises a particular person—I mean it’s not news. Some people just clash. I really have no control over trying to change the subject when she gets in such a hateful mood. Just let her speak until she’s sick of talking about it I guess. Hearing such negativity is hard to tolerate though, but who am I to say I don’t have my negative spells and animosity towards disrespectful people. Respect. Love. Respect. Love. Just love me and forget about this please.

In my room. I’ve got to get to work. She wants to make love.

Me: “Baby, I got to go! When I get back…”

Her: “Noooo! No. No. I’m already naked. See. Look.”

She undresses herself. Why not? The news can wait.

It’s a quick but amazing one. Her movement is my pleasure. And I love her.

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast Radio—discussing genetic engineering and FDA conspiracies.

Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar.


Joining her in bed—she’s so cozy and warm. I love her.

Napping for a while then waking up with a strong blood flow. On top of me—her movement is my pleasure once again.

Me: “You’re so amazing, baby. So good…”

Me: “You don’t know what to do with all this affection do you?”

I drive her back to her car.

Me: “You should tell your mother that I love you. It’s important she knows that.”

Settling down for a full sleep session 9:30 a.m.

Wednesday March 23 2011

Comfortably asleep in the queen’s bed—it’s a tad bit bigger than mine. Mildly sweating underneath the sheets, from a hard night’s sleep. She’s off to the gym, then coming back to take me to get my car at 5 p.m.

Breakfast: A bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar and Strawberries.

I get called into work at China Wok for an hour and half—easy money.

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

Watching a really cool Australian crime thriller called The Square [2008].

Rachel: "God if that couch could talk....Hahahah oh my god now that should be the 1623 movie, through the eyes of the 1623 couches....those couches have so much dirt on all of us haha oh my god that red couch."

Rachel: “...surprise attraction highs..."

Me: "i love that kind of tension. its hard to ignore. the young should never miss out on it."

Getting down and dirty with search engine evaluation work.

Rachel: "Robert i feel like theres a giant google overlord, dressed in the newspaper, eating carryout chinese, keeping you captive."

Stretching and doing crunches while on the phone with Rachel talking about the importance of being a human being.

Margot stops by. Earlier I was supposed to call her when I was done with my Google work, which I did, and texted, but of course she didn’t get any of it because her iphone’s reception sucks. We head to the ATM to deposit some money I owe her from the car.

In my room—listening to music—talking.

Me: “Doesn’t it feel like we’re still dating?”

I bring up how I feel like she’s lacked a sex drive as of late, but really it could just be the both of us. I don’t know. I think the real culprit is the uncertainty of everything, at least for me. In no way do I expect to just jump back into it with her. I know she doesn’t expect that either. There still hasn’t been any space between us. We’ve seen each other almost everyday. I don’t think either one of us knows how else to act around each other. I get kind of upset because I still feel like she’s not convinced about the sincerity of my affection and desire for her. She’s afraid of the relationship having the same issues. I truly feel like it would be drastically different. I try to explain this to her. “No one’s gonna love you like I do. It only keeps escalating.”

Feeling flustered and rushed in the kitchen to make food before I go to work. I wasn’t expecting to have any kind of talk like that. I walk her outside to the car.

Her: “Nothing’s wrong, Robert. I still care about you.”

Me: “Yeah. I know. I’ll be fine.”

I start back to the house and yell back, “I want you!”

There’s no need to be dramatic anymore. I survived the most horrible part not too long ago—but it seems like such a long time ago when all this mumbo jumbo happened. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll go along with her as long as she’s willing. I hope we can heal from the damage we’ve both caused one another. We know how it feels on both ends of the spectrum now. What more will it take for us to understand love?

Dinner: Minestrone Soup with String Beans. Garlic Naan Bread.

Newspaper route.

Eating a Bowtie Donut from 7-11 with a little Milk.

Coast to Coast Radio—discussing cold fusion and other current alternative forms of energies.

Eating Fried Eggs over medium with Cinnamon Raisin Toast.

Car maintenance.

Sleep 9 a.m.

Tuesday March 22 2011

DREAM: Sitting at a desk—meeting with a guy wearing a suit—maybe he’s a realtor or an insurance agent. He says he can get me the best deal—handing me a booklet and two bottles, one with green touch-up paint for my car and the other with some special chemical in it. Curious what I’m supposed to do with this I ask, “So the better my car looks the better the deal we can get?” I watch as his face changes into a deep nasty purple. I am reminded of Violet from the Willy Wonka movie when she turns blue-faced. I thought this guy was getting frustrated or angry, like maybe he couldn’t handle my question. He tries to explain everything and assures me we will get the best deal. ☼☼☼☼☼ Walking through an industrial site where they manufacture salt. I’m with a few different people. Ben Haines points out a pile of black coal off to the side, “If I find out that all this salt is made from coal…” I can’t hear the rest of his statement but I assume he meant he would never eat salt again.

It’s 3:20 p.m. I can barely open my eyes. She’s standing there with a bright smiling just-got-back-from-the-gym face—just saying hi.

Breakfast: Blueberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.


Search Engine Evaluation.

Josiah: “I love milk!”

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

The whole gang is here at the house minus a few people. Chad is back in town!

Pizza, Beer, Cookies, Milk, Poker, Boys, Girls…

We’ve got eight players—the atmosphere is thick with camaraderie.

Meaning to say “actually” Art pronounces the word to sound like “sexually” and I hear laughter in the kitchen.

Rachel takes on the role of “the woman”—waitressing to us boys at the poker table—bringing me some milk, bringing Doug some beer, and feeding the winner of each round a grape like a king.

Emily puts on the apron and baked us all cookies.

It’s a long and vigorous game boiling down to Chad and Roma, who forfeits with second place. I take third and win my 2 bucks back.

James is describing to Rachel and I this garlic festival that happens in San Diego where they serve garlic flavored ice cream. “If we can’t find Robert we know where he is!” Rachel likes to profess how crazy I am about garlic because I’m always offering her a raw clove of garlic.

Later into the night—lounging on the couch—Chad meddling with some hypnotic notes on the guitar while Josh and Josiah emit strange animal noises.

Josiah and Rachel start a band called Disaster Raster (I made up the name).

Eating Fried Egg with Rice and Chickpeas.

Using Margot’s car for the newspaper route because my car won’t be repaired until tomorrow—she’s a blessing.

Coast to Coast Radio—an Australian that claims to be in contact with extra terrestrials two or three times a week shares his thoughts on our apocalyptic future.

Back home, Josiah, Rachel, and Josh went dumpster diving and brought back a bunch of goodies.

Eating Baby Broccoli and Peppers in Beef Bouillon. Garlic Naan Bread. Dried Figs. Grapes.

I head over to the queen’s place to spend the night—that way she’ll have her car to use to go to the gym when she wakes up. I’ll join her in that big cozy bed of hers—probably cuddle and enjoy the entanglement of our bodies.

Sleep 9 a.m.

Monday March 21 2011

DREAM: I’m training Carmen, my roommate, how to run the newspaper route—in a shopping plaza at one of the vending boxes. I’ve got the back opened up. I remove the coin tray but she keeps putting quarters in the slot and they land inside. I try to explain that you don’t have to put quarters in to open up the box because I can do it from back here. Showing her the coin mechanism in the back—she starts yawning—not paying attention—she begins to dance and do cartwheels—distracted by some friends around us. I’m getting annoyed. Later, I confront her. She seems to think the way I acted was mean and disrespectful. I apologize for my anger but still think she was in the wrong for not listening. ☼☼☼☼☼ With a gang of medieval warriors—we approach the main gate to the entrance of a kingdom, which is really just this big field. Our enemies approach on the other side, spears and weapons in hand, ready to defend their territory. I’m the head honcho of the troupe—the rest of the warriors are taking their stances in between the side fencing. I hand gesture to one of the enemies on the other side, giving the talk signal and mouthing out We just want to talk. I repeat it every time he gets ready to fire his spear. At any moment things could get bloody. I climb over the fence and hide behind one of the enemies. Just then, a round of arrows are shot from the trees killing the enemy guards—all a part of the plan. My troupe charges into the field, about to face the rest of the army. I immediately run off to the side and jump over the fence and catwalk on a bordering ledge. I watch the attack safely over here hoping none of the warriors will notice me. As I’m walking, there’s families and people lounging on the ledge with blankets and picnics observing the battle as if it was just entertainment. A girl I know jumps up from the ground and reaches up for me. “Are you okay?” It’s understood she’s Jessa Potter but doesn’t really look like her even though there is some resemblance. She’s got on a red shirt and sweatpants—her skin is a beautiful pale white. I pull her up to me. We chat a bit and then I continue the catwalk until I reach the far end.

Waking up around 6 p.m. (I had meant to rise at 4:30 but just couldn’t do it.)

Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Trader Joe’s.

This warm air makes me think of you.

Search Engine Evaluation.

The queen stops by, with the intent to retrieve her flask, but also to see me and give me kisses.

Her: “I like you.”

Her: “You’re my security blanket. You make me feel warm and comfy.”

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Sling Blade

Tinkering with lyrics for songs.

Search Engine Evaluation.

Stretching. Crunches. Run around the neighborhood.

Eating Fried Eggs with Rice and Chickpeas. Carrot.

Newspaper route.

Drinking Iced Coffee with Brown Sugar and Milk.

My car’s acceleration fails on me and I’m stuck on the side of the road just across the street from Cox High School. I’m at least 70% done with the route fortunately. This sucks though. I call Kenneth to come take a look and see if it maybe needs a jump. He’s a smart dude when it comes to most anything, especially cars. While troubleshooting we discover a fried wire connected to the hydrogen generator. Within the hour the tow guy arrives. Kenneth offers to finish the route in his van—we just go for the last two stops by the house.

Back home, eating Grapes.

Counting quarters.

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.

Biking it to the shop—talking with Doug the mechanic—should have it fixed today. Then, to the bank for quarter rolls—the sun and air are perfect.

Sleep 10 a.m.

Sunday March 20 2011

DREAM: On the front porch to the entrance of a small white church building—the service is about to start. It’s understood they’re struggling to pay the rent or mortgage. I’m wearing my brown house slippers but there’s thick mud on the bottoms—can’t seem to wipe it all off. I grab a tissue and find it’s easier to clean off the mud with it than scraping the slippers on the wood panels underneath me. The service has started. I’m up front with the leader. The audience is a mixed crowd of seniors, older adults, and a few kids. I’m sitting on a swing set joined by a little girl in another swing to the right of me. Holding an acoustic guitar in my hand. They want me to lead the service in a song but I don’t feel well rehearsed and didn’t expect this at all. I ask the leader if he knows a happy song. Then immediately I think of Trading My Sorrows, a song we used to sing in church all the time (which is ironic because just before I went to sleep I was learning that Snowden song on guitar, which is the same chord progression as Trading My Sorrows). I start strumming the chords and remembering the lyrics as I go along, “I’m trading my sorrows. I’m trading my shame. I’m laying it down for the joy of the lord….” Surprised at the enthusiasm I seem to have in my voice—it’s right on pitch and the performance is good. At the bridge of the song I’m creating this weird harmonic noise sequence. A guy in the front row comments how he likes it. All the while my swing is swinging faster and faster the more umpf I put into the song. I hit the last chord and hold out my voice. The crowd is pleased and joyful, and so am I.

5 p.m. I wake up. My body was catching up on the hours I lost yesterday.

Breakfast: Blueberry Muffin Oatmeal. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Work at China Wok.

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

Business. Booking. Scheduling.

Spending time with the queen at her house. She bought The Switch [2010] the other day and wants to watch it with me—a total offbeat romantic comedy chick flick. But it’s actually good—some tender moments—she finds the little boy in it adorable and changes her mind about wanting a little girl, “I want a little boy like that!”

Her: “We’d make beautiful babies.”

Dialogue from the movie: Guy: “Will you marry me?” Girl: “Probably.”

I turn to Margot to re-enact, “Will you marry me?” She smiles, “Probably.”

We’ve tossed around the idea of a marriage together in the future. In no way are we at that step but talking and romanticizing the possibility is fun—I mean we’re not even dating at the moment, but our interaction says otherwise. If anything, I feel more close to her than I ever have before and I think she senses that change in dynamic and is trying to understand it.

Eating a Cupcake and a Banana.

She’s browsing through engagement rings on her iphone—showing me the kind of ring she wants.

Her: “What’s your price range?”

Me: “Ha. Uh…”

I’ve always known what I’m getting myself into with her expensive tendencies.

Her: “You better start saving up!”

We half make a deal on whoever can last the longest without sex. If I win, she has to marry me. If I lose, I have to take her to Kings Dominion. I’m not taking this too seriously.

Tucking her into the soft comfy bed. Lying with each other.

Her: “I want to do things with you.”

Me: “Like what?”

Her: “I want to sleep next to you all the time.”

Me: “And?”

Her: “And play house.”

Me: “We can do that.”

I tumble on top of her—touching—teasing her and myself.

Dinner: Cumin Ginger Chickpeas and Rice with Onions and Mushrooms. String Beans. Garlic Naan Bread.

Starting Sling Blade [1996].

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast Radio—discussion on how belief systems can limit people’s thoughts and deter them from the real truth.

Drinking Iced Coffee and a Cinnamon Sugar Donut from 7-11.

Playing music at the storage unit.

Sleep 9 a.m.

Saturday March 19 2011

It’s after 10 a.m. I was able to actually sleep for about 3 hours—but now I’m awake and can’t get back to sleep no matter how hard I try. I hear her breathing deeply and past out in dreamland. I want to be there. We both rearrange every fifteen minutes or so.

Afternoon. Her eyes flutter open like butterfly wings. We’re cozy. “Hi.” Mmmm. I touch—a little sex from behind.

Me: “I adore you….what do you think about that?”

Her: “It’s kind of surreal.”

In the kitchen—everyone else in the house is corralling here as if we all planned to get up and meet at this particular time. Dustin and Josiah are cooking eggs. Rachel slouches atop the washing machine.

Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Cinnamon Bunches, Banana, and Honey.

Margot wants to get food somewhere—she gets so excited about things. Panera? Guadalajara? Bangkok Garden? I persuade to do Panera.

Sitting at one of the smaller tables—the busy lunch hustle and bustle around us.

Eating a Strawberry Hot Cross Bun while she chows down on Broccoli & Cheddar Soup.

Me: “We really are opposites attract in real life. I think that’s what I like about this.”

Shopping at Target—she’s still wearing her sexy short magenta dress from last night. Even though she says she feels gross I think she looks dazzling. Browsing through swimsuits and dresses, then onto the food aisles.

Me: “I think I’m gonna start taking more control with this.”

Her: “No. I’m the alpha in this relationship.”

Me: “And what am I?”

Her: “You’re my bitch!”

Me: “Oh no. I don’t think so. It’s the other way around.” I’ve got to start taking the reigns. She likes it when men do that anyway.

I didn’t think I would need a basket so I’m juggling a bunch of things in my hands—being patient while she enamors herself in some new nail polish.

 Catching a few hours of Zzzz’s before I have to be at work.

My boss wants me to come in an hour later for some reason. Stupid.

Work at China Wok.

The moon rears it’s eerie face in the night sky as I’m driving (it’s supposed to be a supermoon tonight, which is rare because of it’s bigger size). I always feel inclined to share the sight of the moon with somebody, like text someone or call someone. But I don’t. Rachel beats me to it.

Her: “look at the moon”

Me: “the moon always has this way of helping me forget everything that i think matters.”

Her: “Don’t forget everything that matters.”

On the drive to Chesapeake—eating Salt n Vinegar Chips. James Graves points out that every time we ride together I eat salt n vinegar chips. “Only when I’m with you, James.”

Hanging out at Winston’s Café for the You’re Jovian, Little Foot, and Mattress show.

I brought the PA system—there’s a lack of sound system owners in the area. Elliott buys me dinner in return.

Eating Salmon in a Caper Dill Sauce with Rice Pilaf and Broccoli.

Most of the gang is here. Doug walks in strutting a new haircut.

“You look like a brand new boy!”

Enjoying all the band’s sets—Mattress draws an interesting cross between an Elvis Presley and Monster Mash sound.

Rachel is texting me—she’s walking home from the beach in the night, but her father disapproves.

Her: “I could just be a lucky naïve possible statistic teenage girl but walking alone late in the dark and cold is invigorating to me, untouchable ha like im invincible for a few moments. Puts pep in my step….most people just think its reckless and my father likes to call it my ‘tra-la-la’ complex hahah where he envisions me skipping down the street saying tra la la.”

This is more social outing than I think I’m used to. Feeling despondent but trying to stay light. Lounging in the booth and drawing another one of those symbolic pen doodles in my notebook.  
I should get more dangerous and not so serious.

Snacking on some of James’s Cheese Fries.

On the drive back home—James is talking about how drawn he is to the moon.

Me: “It makes sense that we’re drawn to it. The small amount of gravity still pulls on us.”

Him: “It’s amazing how something so small can have such a big effect.”

Eating Chocolate and drinking Coffee with Milk and Honey.

Newspaper route.

Eating Strawberry Yogurt.

While I’m compiling the papers the queen calls me on the phone—she just wanted to say hi and see how my day was. How nice. She likes me.

Coast to Coast Radio—discussing the validity of the books of the Bible and the other books that were left out by the scholars.

Eating a Boston Crème Donut from 7-11 with a little Milk.

This Snowden song still haunts me….

In volumes
I thought I found a cure for my problem
Where I bleed from my sleeve
And it pours on everyone that I meet
I made clear where I was coming from
And you touched me again
So I assumed that you could swim
No you don’t want to know me
No you don’t want to know me
Cause you don’t really know me
She said
I will never
I will never let you leave…
I am going to be your dog
Are you ready to be your god
Everything that’s expected of
Everything that’s requested of
Wait outside of your place
In the hazy estate
Honey don’t be afraid
I cut you into my legs
Don’t be afraid
Don’t be afraid
This is how true love behaves
No you don’t want to know me
No you don’t want to know me
Cause you don’t really know me
She said

Popcorn, Chocolate, Figs, Pinot Noir—Finishing Strange Days [1995].

Sleep 8 a.m.

Friday March 18 2011

Having a hard time getting into a dream state. But after an hour of being in bed it finally happens.

DREAM: I’m an observer on a beach scene—watching video footage of memories that were never actually filmed—it feels like I’m really there—feeling the ocean breeze and the sand underneath my feet. It’s the 1940’s. I see Jack Keroauc and his friends, Neal Cassady, Allen Ginsberg, and some unfamiliar women. They’re socializing on the back porch of a house. Keroauc runs out onto the sand. All of a sudden an outline of clouds in the sky resembles Keroauc’s face—the eyes glowing a luminescent white. Nobody noticed it in this timeframe except for me. I get the chills because it’s such an eerie moment—I can’t even look at it. It’s as if the sky knew the impact Jack Keroauc would have in the near future of literature—a cosmic foreshadowing. ☼☼☼☼☼ In the middle of the night, Margot and I sneak out of a house. We’re in a black limo having sex. She’s being playful and teasing me at the same time in an unsacred way but still with aims to pleasure ourselves. As we step back through the front door of the house, her mom, Nina, is standing there upset but not really showing that she is. “That young lady is going straight to bed!” Margot climbs the stairwell leaving me in the kitchen with her mother. I notice an unusual stack of coffee mugs in the sink each with homemade butter in them. It’s understood Nina concocted it. She offers a mug for me to take home. Suddenly I’m driving that black limo with Margot in the passenger seat. She has a GPS in hand trying to plug in the address that our client in the backseat needs to be at. I’m cutting a pretty sharp turn and can’t seem to make it—slamming through a fence and streaming over a shallow lake. Everything seems to be fine. I get us back on the road…

Waking up somewhere between 6 and 7 p.m.

Breakfast: Strawberry Yogurt. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.


Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Creamy Tomato Soup. Honey Green Tea.

Search Engine Evaluation.

Running to the ABC store real quick to get Lime Southern Comfort for the queen because she’s stuck at work longer than she thought. I grab a few whiskey samples.

Driving to Norfolk for a night at The Wave—with Margot, Josiah, and Rachel.

Ripping up the dance floor—feeling good—bodies moving—speakers booming—sipping on a PBR.

She’s here with me tonight! I love to watch her dance—the vibrance, the charm--it doesn’t even seem real. Every now and then she dances closer to me—pinning me back against the banister—kissing.

Sharing cloves on the patio.

Margot: “You’re cramping my styleeee!”

After a few hours we retreat to Rick’s Café where James Graves and two of his friends are eating.

Josiah’s purple wig causes some reactions from two older men.

“You look like Walter’s old wife!”


Back at the house—Josiah puts on the Dick Tracy movie.

Eating Fried Eggs over medium, Perogies with Yogurt Dill Dip, and Baby Broccoli.

I tuck her into bed—drinking some delicious cheap Pinot Noir.

Search Engine Evaluation.


Attempting to sleep earlier—joining her in bed. 7 a.m.

Thursday March 17 2011

Its sometime after eleven. She’s getting up to go home. Watching her movement—snapping her bra strap back on—slipping her sexy dress back on—I like to watch this part. I’m such a creeper. “You’re so beautiful.”

Back to sleep.

DREAM: A pile of blankets stuffed against a wall—on a mattress—I’m situated to go to sleep. There’s a doorway that’s been opened within the wall exactly at the head of my mattress revealing the outside—it’s raining and the water is soaking the blankets.

It’s after 7 p.m. and I’m waking up. Ugh. This is too late.

Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc.

OMG. This house is back to going through one toilet paper roll a day!


Search Engine Evaluation.

Hanging out at Harpoon Larry’s with the queen. Saint Patty’s Day—green is everywhere. She’s got cute curls in her hair—such a beauty. I choose not to drink anything tonight. That catchy Kesha song thumping on the stereo—Margot and her friends are cheesing out, singing along, being girls. I’m half watching a college basketball game on the TV. She likes that I’m here—kissing me and being sweet.

I give her a ride to her house and lounge on the couch—she’s eating an egg sandwich and I eat two of the cupcakes we baked a few days ago—Who’s Line Is It Anyways? on TV.

She’s aware that rushing back into things is a bad idea. I know this too. How do we do this properly? Space will give her time to decide what she wants, as well as me. But isn’t this anti-climatic? I’m afraid of distance. I don’t want to lose her.

Hugging before I leave, “I have everything you need.” [kiss, kiss, kiss]

Coffee with Honey and Milk.

Counting quarters.

Since when did my life become a soap opera?

Newspaper route—bringing my roommate Dustin along with me for training so he can cover my shift tomorrow.

Snacking on Mixed Nuts and a Cinnamon Sugar Donut from 7-11.

Stretching and doing crunches—listening to The Hype Machine.

I go for a run around the neighborhood. Ah yes. It’s been a while. It feels good to get the blood flowing again—the combination of sex yesterday and fitness today is what my body really needs.

Dinner: Spaghetti with Tomato Basil Sauce, Onions, and Mushrooms. Garlic Bread.

Watching Strange Days [1995].

Search Engine Evaluation.

Sleep 10:20 a.m.

Wednesday March 16 2011

DREAM: In some kind of thrift shop. A PA system is set up for a live band within the aisles. The speakers are placed in an acoustically inefficient manner, one facing the bookshelf and the other facing into the store. I’m walking through the aisle and browsing some of the products. It’s understood I may or may not be performing. An amateur church group gets up to play some tunes—it all seems fake—their positions don’t make any sense because of everything being set up in the aisle. I’m caught in the middle of it.

Waking up 5:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Cinnamon Raisin Toast with Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Work at China Wok—a joke—one order then ordered to go home—no business.

Stop at Trader Joes. What’s up Daniel?

I spot Jon Reynolds walking in the plaza with a girl. “What are you doing here? This is my turf!”

Search Engine Evaluation.

Taking Margot to Guadalajara for Mexican food.

Noticing the other couples there—some sitting next to each other and some sitting across from each other. She thinks it shows how much people are in love or not. We choose to sit side by side.

I order the bean quesadilla but they bring a beef one instead. I guess the word bean sounds like beef when said by someone with a shot voice. The chips and salsa are wonderful.

She’s really stoked about me being out with her—exchanging kisses and affection of the like.

Back in my room—a fire—an eagerness—unbuttoning her freshly purchased black and white secretary dress with a red belt—she’s not drunk and she wants me—Oh how I want you too darling! My drive and stamina are at a beautiful height and it’s you that I desire. Her blood-red high heels are the only thing left on her brown buttery body. She’s my queen. She’s my lover and I love her. Pushing in and out with such fervor and zest—the moaning oh’s and yeah’s and baby’s resound in our ears.

We’re meeting up with some of her friends at Harpoon Larry’s. On the drive I can feel the endorphins flowing through my body. “It’s been way too long.”

Sipping on an Amstel Light and enjoying her warmth and the company of other inviting people. I’m peer pressured into a few shots. She’s very responsive with me. So this is your world.

She exclaims a few I love you’s and seems very excited that I’m here with her.

Her: “This is a trial run.”

Me: “A trial run? I hope I pass.”

She’s pretty drunk at this point. I bring her back home. Immediately I tuck her into bed. I join her for more lovemaking. Its kind of strange because she’s sort of blacked out I guess. She seems to be enjoying it but out of nowhere towards the end she keeps repeating, “I need to go home. I need to go home.” “Margot, shhhh. You’re not going home right now. Just relax.” Then, napping.

Josh and Josiah are hanging out in the living room with a few people, two girls from LA and Kelley with a friend.

Eating a Carrot with Pita and Hummus.

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast radio—Major Ed Dames is discussing the skill of remote viewing, which is a sort of ESP technique used to predict upcoming events. He’s very certain another “mass human-death causing” earthquake will happen soon on the New Madrid Fault and St. Louis will be hit hard.

Eating a Cinnamon Sugar Donut from 7-11.

She’s calling me on the phone while I’m still delivering. “Why am I naked?!” She can’t remember what happened after she got back to my house. I try to explain. She’s so cute.

Text: “Hurry back! I miss you!”

I finally return home. She informs me she got on my computer and snooped on my Facebook account, mainly because she wanted to see those messages from Katie, Les’s girlfriend, to whom I’ve been conversing with about the incident between Margot and Les [I told her I would show her them earlier anyway]. And then she said she found other messages from almost a year ago involving me using the term “babe” to refer to a friend I met in the Philippines. Oh lord. Here we go. She’s really upset about it because she obviously still thinks I’m holding secrets from her and can’t stop digging into the past. I try to explain that nothing happened with that girl and that it’s such a finicky thing to get riled up over.

“Margot, I never cheated on you when we were dating. I promise you. When are you going to learn to trust me? We can’t move forward until we learn to trust each other.”

This whole thing is just silly because I feel like it’s irrelevant to what’s happening now.

“I love you so much, baby. Don’t let something so minute ruin this, please. I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to be yours so bad. I want you! Stop this!”

Eventually I’m able to cool her off by being sweet and whispering in those cute little ears of hers.

Sex. Third time’s a charm. As soon as it’s finished she abruptly says, “I want a slurpie!” She’s adorable.

We take a walk to 7-11 for a slurpie.

“I feel lucky. You’re such a jewel.”

Eating an Egg Sandwich with Milk and Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.

I really need to sit back and think about this for a minute. She’s been responsive to me as of late and seems to be letting me in, like opening the door for me to prove myself again. I want to take it slower but don’t know how and I’m sure she doesn’t either. I think the telementation skills I’ve been studying about have been working—the power of the laws of attraction. If I want her. If I know and feel I will get her. It will happen. It’s a cosmic attraction—feeding off each other’s desires—even when we’re apart, the distance, I can produce enough of an allure for her to sense and connect with, hence her missing me. And it’s also coming from her end that I feel the allure. It’s beautiful. Day by day.

Search Engine Evaluation.


Returning to bed next to her.

Sleep 10 a.m.

Tuesday March 15 2011

5:30 p.m. waking up.

Breakfast: English Muffin with Peanut Butter. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Musicplayer practice at the storage unit—working on more new songs.

Josiah’s in the attic with some people, “Hey Robert. Guess who’s here?”

“I don’t know, Daniel White?”

It’s Robbie! “Oh! Hey Robbie!”

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

James and I head to Tortilla West for Tyler Yowell’s Moving-Come Hang get together.

Rachel couldn’t make it out. She texts me: “will you please hug him for 3 minutes straight for me and kiss him on the head:\”

I text back: “i hugged him for 30 seconds then kissed him on the forehead. then he laughed like a little girl.”

Sipping on a can of Modelo and socializing like whoa. The whole gang is here.

Oh Josiah and his New York stories. “You should really write a book on the past three years of your life. That would be great!”

Talks with James on the way back home—analyzing our personal situations—getting a chance to hear some of his romantic endeavors and ideas after he moved to Dumfries that time ago.

There’s a crowd of people in the house—5 on the red couch as Kelley lies across their laps.

I make Dustin cook me over easy eggs his special way. Eating some with Rice and a Carrot. Peach Yogurt.

Visiting Margot at her work for a few minutes—she’s closing and was bored earlier.

“I’m not gonna stop pursuing you, Margot.”

Les’s girlfriend, Katie, had sent me another message recently with a few more questions about things. I shouldn’t have brought it up to Margot, but I did. And the conversation turns sour. She’s upset the way things went down with Les and feels used and rejected. It’s kind of a weird moment because I’m sort of comforting her over the guy she rejected me with. All I keep thinking is Why did you waste your time with a guy that wasn’t really into you when I’m here all along with real love?

On the way to work we continue our conversation over the phone. Her big concern with getting back with me is the fear of things being the same. I mean there’s a list of things that didn’t click, like, for example, my busy schedule and not making enough time for her. I had a lot of issues in general being in a relationship a long while back because of it. Over time I developed such a strong connection and started to really love her. And yes, when there’s a threat of her leaving me for someone else, of course I’m gonna flip and act desperate. She’s been mine for a long time. I’ve seen her grow in a way—and change but stay the same. I know her like a book you’ve read a thousand times or a movie you’ve watched a thousand times and never get sick of.

Newspaper route.

After about 40 minutes I call her back just to clarify something,

“I really really love you Margot. I love you so much. And I care about you. If you were to come back I promise you things will be different.” I try to explain that love should be enough. Everything else falls into place after love. Of course there will be sacrifice but I’m willing to do that because I love her. She’s still so uneasy about everything despite the fact that she does love me in return and does realize my importance in her life.

Eating Oatmeal Cookie Bites and few donuts from Dunkin Donuts.

Back home. Search Engine Evaluation.


Watching Manic [2001].

Sleep 10 a.m.