Thursday March 10 2011

DREAM: In my dad’s backyard playing with a posse of animals including cats and dogs with very distinct features—all of them friendly.

Just a little after 6 p.m. I wake up.

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

Musicplayer rehearsal.

I got a warm letter in the mail from Phil today.

“There are plenty of mathematicians in the world, but there are even more of us to make miscalculations…………………..I’m a mountain or I’m on one………………..I’d like to say that things are well in Portland. Plenty of rice, etc, etc. Love is in the air as long as the bees are, and it sticks to our fingers like pollen. Mine are yellow. The bees are in trouble………………I wonder how things are there, and with you. Please give all those I love my love—and you know who…………..Don’t forget to sing hymns……………Let everyone have courage and they won’t be afraid to do what’s in their hearts………..Love, Phil.”

I don’t know how to have space from you. I just don’t. Love. Desire. Pain. I ache for you. I feel so much for you.

Conor Oberst said it best:

“You say that I treat you like a book on a shelf
I don't take you out that often 'cause I know that I completed you and that's why you are here
That's the reason you stay here
How awful that must feel
You said you could be my dream I could have you every night
And if by morning, I'd forgotten you, well no big deal, that'd be alright
'Cause you're the reoccurring kind
You are the reoccurring kind
You never really leave my mind
Are you the love of my lifetime?
Cause there have been times I've had my doubts
We were just kids when I first kissed you in the attic of my parents house, and I wish we were there now
It took so long to figure out
What this book has been about

Now I write when I'm away, letters that you'll never read
You said go explore those other women, the geography of their bodies, but there's just one map you'll need
You're a boomerang you'll see
You will return to me

You will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.
You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will. You, you will.
'Cause if you don't, then this book is all lies
If you don't, then my plans would all be ruined
If you don't, I'll start drinking like the way I drank before
Oh, and I, I just won't have a future anymore.”

Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Eliott calls me to inform me of some important details for tomorrow’s Ricmond show.

Wesley grabs the phone.

“So you’re eating salt n vinegar chips?”

“Yeah, I had those earlier.”

“There’s one thing though, you have to mention this phone conversation in your blog.”

“I can’t put everything in my blog. There has to be something memorable about it.”

“Okay okay.” He thinks telling me about a guy in Jersey that smashed a guitar up in the street is memorable enough for me.

Emily grabs the phone.

She blasts out phrases like “I love you brother!” and “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”

Me: “Three people on one phone call is a little too much for me.”

Talking with Margot on the phone for a little bit, just to say hi.

Me: “I’ve been thinking of you as usual.”

Her: “I thought about you too.”

She kind of feels like she’s not allowed to make plans with me because of everything. You deserve to be punished of course, but you’d be surprised how unimportant a wrongdoing becomes when real love’s involved.

She’s going to a birthday party at a bar somewhere off Birdneck.

Me: “Well just call me afterwards if you want.”

Working on click tracks for Musicplayer.


Her texts are in abundance. She’s getting pizza before she comes over.

“Bringing yummies!!!” “Pick out a good movie plz” “:)))) so excited to play witcha baby”

The enthusiasm in her words is nostalgic for me in a way. This is how she used to communicate with me all the time, with passion and zeal, with a genuine tone that says to me, Robert, I really am glad you exist in my life. She wears her heart on her sleeve and she’s never been afraid to speak out what she wants. I like this.

She had four drinks earlier so she’s a little drunky. In this state she becomes so full of herself, but in a silly and funny way. She keeps reiterating to me that she’s cuter than any other girl.

Me: “Yes, baby. You are.”

Her: “You’re my toy!”

Me: “I’m not a toy.”

Her: “Yes you are!”

Me: “Well, if you don’t play with me often enough then I’m gonna have to find another owner.”

Her: “No!”

She uses a metaphor from a time when her grandma wanted to throw out a movie, The Last Unicorn I believe it was, but Margot refused to let her because she wanted to keep it, even though, according to her grandma, she never watched it. I can’t help but think about the book on the shelf from that song.

She scarfs down a few slices of pizza from Channelos. I set up the movie Paper Heart to watch, with Michael Cera (who is Margot’s dream boyfriend) and Michael’s girlfriend Charlyne Yi—a cute quirky comedy in a documentary format about Charlyne going on a quest to understand love.

We’re lying down—my arm around her—kissing with such a sweetness. She sleeps through the last half of the movie.

Eating Pizza with a Carrot and Grapefruit Soda.

Her sleepy noises are adorable. As she’s waking up next to me her face signals that she wants kisses. I heed the call. Getting on top of her—warm body contact. The blood below is flowing quite confidently. Making her feel good—and I go for it. It’s good. It’s really good. I feel like a man—doing what I’m intended to do—in and out with purpose—the relationship of pleasuring each other—pangs of euphoria rather than pangs of pain.

Feeling proud of myself in way for having a strong drive this time. I think it was a combination of her ardor and the watermelon I’ve eaten lately that powered my system. I read somewhere that watermelon is the best natural remedy for situations like this. There’s an amino acid called citrulline in it that relaxes and dilates blood vessels, similar to what Viagra does for people with erectile dysfunction.

Having a hard time getting it up because you’re broken hearted? And you still want to have sex? Try watermelon today!

Newspaper route.

Experiencing such an ego boost and elation—a happiness. You don’t know how satisfying that was for me. I want you all the time, absorbed into me and I, absorbed into you—a fantasy that can be reality.

Eating a Cinnamon Sugar Donut with Milk from 7-11.

Everyone’s talking about the recent earthquake in Japan on Coast to Coast radio.

Eating a small bowl of Lentil Soup and Garlic Bread.


Packing music gear into the car.


Sleep 10 a.m.

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