DREAM: We’ve moved into the new house. I’m forced to take the bedroom next to the kitchen, which is undesirable because of the noise I’ll have to hear like the clanging of dishes and whatnot. There’s these slender openings in the walls of each room that lead into other small closet-size rooms for storage but I can’t figure out how to get into them because the opening is so small and thin. I’m only able to slip my arm through. It doesn’t make any sense. In the corner of my room is a vent door where Anthony and Kevin buried their former pets. I open it up to find two bundles of towels. I’m afraid to smell it and also concerned because the head of my bed is so close to this vent door.
Waking up at 3:20 p.m.
Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice.
Carmen creates a t-shirt:
We’re confirmed to move into Chanticleer! No longer being homeless is a good feeling.
Figuring out bills and money.
Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Rehearsing with Gabe Niles at the storage unit for the show tonight.
Stuffing all the boys and drums into the station wagon—the queen in the passenger seat—driving to Norfolk. Margot demands that she plug in her iphone to put on a song. She says something funny about listening to music that’s bubbly because she’s bubbly.
It’s been a long time since I’ve cruised through Granby Street and this side of Norfolk.
“Granby Street Night Life!”
Finding a parking spot near the Pagoda Garden on Tazewell Street, just like I used to do when going to Relative Theory Records (RIP) back in the day.
Anthony, James, and I grab a few slices of Pizza from Granby Street Pizza.
The crowd is starting to pick up inside The Jewish Mother Backstage. Drinking a few Lionhead beers. I step into the bathroom for a minute. A couple of guys have cameras, filming Gabe. He pulls me in and introduces me with my stage name, “Grilled Cheese”.
On stage. Gabe’s hyping up the people and spinning tracks, a remix of Rebecca Black’s “Friday” being one of them—Eric, “The Substitute”, pulsing on the drum kit—I’m pounding on my 3-piece set—cameras flashing—bodies moving—feet shuffling. It’s one of the most therapeutic feelings to have these sticks in my hands and lock into that tribal rhythm. The venue is packed to the brim with beautiful people tapping into a beautiful vibe.
Back home. Eating leftover Lima Beans with Salmon and Rice. Also, a Yellow Freeze Pop.
Coast to Coast AM.
Blueberry Donut from 7-11 and Iced Coffee.
There’s a note on my door from Anthony that says,
“Rob—If you could hear the song in my head right now, everything would make sense. Your smile would be the tender that the storekeepers in heaven must use. Sincerely, Anthony. P.S. Here’s to the new place!!! May it be a light in a darkened world.”
Sleep 7:20 a.m.