Friday March 11 2011

Waking up at 3:30 p.m.

Watermelon. Mmhmm.

Driving to Richmond for the Musicplayer show with Chris, Kal, and James Graves. We take the Monitor Merrimac Tunnel in order to avoid HRBT traffic, but it doesn’t matter. There’s still congestion up ahead. I complain out loud about how stupid this is and how I’m going to write a book called The Philosophy of Traffic and make it a mandatory study before anyone gets a drivers license. Of course, I know this won’t solve anything—the idiocy of humanity is inevitable. But it’s still a fun thought.

Stop at McDonalds—eating a Tuna Salad Sandwich with French Fries. Honey Green Tea.

Kal brings up an observation that in most Disney movies, a mother or father dies within the story, or is just absent.

Arriving at The Mooselodge house in Richmond. Musicplayer performs alongside You’re Jovian, and two other bands. It’s as good as a house show can get really. 90% male. 9% female. 1% dog.

I like seeing Emily with a guitar in hand. “Girls with guitars are cute!”

I’m drawing a representation of my potential traffic book.

Margot and I texting…..

Her: “I miss you.” Oh. Aw.

Me: “i miss you.”

Her: “I feel like I’m not allowed to.”

Me: “yeah. well you don’t need permission to say what you feel. i like being missed.”

Eating Strawberry Yogurt.

On the way back—Kal takes the wheel. Jon hitches a ride with us—napping beside him.

I get home after the Richmond journey. There’s a casual party/hangout going on inside. Concrete had some kind of art show and a few people came over afterwards. I find Rachel situated on the coffee table, legs crossed, and wearing that distinct smile that seems to be a permanent fixture.

I start making dinner in the kitchen. Rachel pretends to be filming a cooking show and I pretend to host. “Rachel, if you eat a raw clove of garlic everyday you’ll never die.” I offer garlic to Joanie and Roland. They accept.

Dinner: Spicy Edamame Soybeans with Rice and Mixed Vegetables. Baby Broccoli. Garlic Bread. Aloe Juice.

Sitting on the washing machine—entertained by Joanie and Roland speaking vigorous French to each other as I eat my food.

Some Bob Dylan song is blasting in the computer room—Josh and the girl I wrote poetry on a napkin with a while ago are passionately nuzzling and kissing—in the living room is another guy-girl match standing close to each other, a slow dance mood, making out. It’s a scene fresh out of movie set in the 60’s—free love and abandon—simplistically, it is the free spirit that is celebrated.

Explaining www.yourscenesucks.com to Rachel.

Newspaper route.

I really am feeling good—in a state of homeostasis.

Eating a Blueberry Muffin and Milk from 7-11.

I step into the house to find a few people asleep in the living room except for Rachel, wide awake on the floor as if she was expecting someone to come in, or like she was ready to do something.

In my room, I offer her the extra bed. She’s enveloped in blankets—the electric heated one still works. Lying down—reading my book on telementation and discovering that I may already have been practicing this concept unawares within this year. It teaches not only thinking reality into existence but also feeling it. It’s a daily mental focus. And since I am already an introspective creature, constantly analyzing everything in my head all the time, it’s possible I could’ve cosmically caused recent events, good and bad, to happen. I’m going to tame this skill.

Recalling some memories from church, “You know, one thing I really loved about church was when you go up to the altar and everyone lays hands on your back and head to pray for you. The power of touch. I just love that feeling of so many people’s hands on you. It’s so comforting.”

Studying some of the FAQ’s for my new job and familiarizing myself with their system. Rachel is afraid because of the confidentiality, “The Google hitmen are gonna come after me.”

Popcorn. Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.

Other quotes by Rachel:

“Jesus definitely invented the electric blanket.”

“I feel like I might be in an incubator.”

“If You Want to Sing Out” by Cat Stevens playing on the computer’s media player. It strikes a happy chord with me. A good last note to end the day on.

Sleep 9:30 a.m.