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.

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