Monday April 25 2011

DREAM: Blowing bubbles towards Rachel as she’s sitting down on a stool. She responds playfully along the lines of, “Robert! Stop that. I don’t want bubbles!” There’s another girl in the room who’s understood to be a fairy similar to tinker bell. I blow one big bubble in particular and the tinker bell fairy encourages Rachel to join her inside the bubble in order to float up to the top. I watch tinker bell dive in through the perimeter of the bubble creating a protruding spike then eventually landing safely inside without popping it…

Waking up around 4 p.m.

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


Google work.

The daughters walk in (Rachel and Carmen). Carmen hands me two boxes with 8 new coffee mugs she got while she was away. She said she read about the mugs getting broken the other day and found a 50 State store with different state mugs.

Me: “Wow. This is thoughtful. Now I really feel like a dad, getting coffee mugs as a present.”

I decide to talk a walk to Target. Half a clove cigarette in my hand. Just crossed VB Blvd—following Louisa Ave just before the on-ramp to the interstate. A lady wearing a flowery dress carrying two bags is approaching. Preparing myself to nod or say hello in recognition of a stranger. As soon as there’s a close enough distance between us she starts mouthing something to me but the jets overhead drown out most of it. I can only make out something along the lines of, “Don’t ya know you’re smoking death?” After the noise in the sky dies down I allow a few minutes to speak with her. I try to explain it’s only an occasional clove. But she’s right. Her obvious thick British-like accent sounds familiar. She makes mention of the yellow shirt I’m wearing, something about how it symbolizes the sun. She keeps smiling and spouting out words with such zeal and joy—then giving me an intense embrace. I ask, “What’s your name?” She tells me her full name and then explains how “Zana” derived from it, “It means the instrument of Christ!” She asks if I know Rocky, which we then realize we met on the porch of my house a long time ago via Rocky. As I continue towards Target….Zana: “You’re beautiful, darling!” Thinking to myself, Wow. What a person. I knew there was a reason I wanted to walk.

Work at China Wok.

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

Brainstorming with Darren about our talk show—planning out possible first topics.

On the porch—getting into a few debates about this and that—Devon and Jordan nearby smoking cigarettes. One of Carmen’s friends randomly barges out the front door and blows serious chunks splattering all over the porch.

Bike adventures with Margot, Anthony, and James.

Traversing through Bay Colony and the boardwalk—perfect air, perfect breeze, perfect night. She looks so cute on her yellow beach cruiser with shiny streamers. Stopping at Harpoon Larry’s. James needs to find an Allen wrench to fix the loose handle on his bike. In 7-11. No luck. I grab some Vitamin Water. On Atlantic Avenue riding back towards Bay Colony. Anthony gets a bright idea to take a dive into the pool out in front of the Marriot hotel.

Him: “Robert, will you give me $20 if I jump into this pool?”

Me: “No, but I’ll give you fame and glory.”

Without further thinking he takes off his shirt, entrusts me with his important pocket belongings, and jumps right in…for 23 seconds, according to him.

Crossing through the parking lot of the nostalgic old hotel. Margot entertains the idea of wanting to get married there. The Cavalier holds a special place in my heart and I’ve also entertained that idea.

We arrive back at her place. Saying goodbye to her. Something’s wrong. I try to be affectionate and loving and repeat I love you. Even the purple flowers I picked for her doesn’t suffice. But she’s irritated and I don’t know why. I guess I’ll just have to wait for the text messages I’ll receive later.

I try calling to get it out of her. But the real truth comes out in text.

Her: “And Anthony takes your attention away from me and I don’t like it. Esp tonight when I was already irritable.”

Me: “cmon baby. im sorry. don’t be jealous of a boy. you’re my queen.”

Her: “I’m not jealous of a boy. I’m jealous of someone you give more attention to when I’m around unless I get you one on one. I just wanted to hang out with you and be cute and I couldn’t do that. I got us wine and popsicles tonight but we didn’t eat them :(”

Me: “awww. baby. we’ll indulge in that another night. I promise.”

I was not expecting this kind of insecurity from her. But really, maybe I should. There’s a record on both our sides. Why should this even matter? Haven’t we past all of this mumbo jumbo? What does love mean when we say we love each other? I love you! I think it’s understood when you’re out with friends you shouldn’t expect one on one attention with any person in particular. It’s a group setting. I figured in my mind, we had a nice one on one time the night before and tonight this would be appropriate. I understand where she’s coming from if she already made plans in her head and then something changes them. It’s disappointing. I get that. But man, she’s such a queen. And I love her so much.

Dinner: Two Over Medium Eggs. Rice with Onions and Mixed Vegetables. Naan Bread with Fresh Garlic.

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast AM—“According to the Mayans, "we are going to be hit with a pulse of energy like we have not been hit with in 26,000 years," Bara said. We have to know what to do with that energy to utilize it for the good, he continued. There are certain times and dates when people's powers to send out signals or prayers for the greater good are enhanced, he added.”

Back home—Skippy, Anthony, and Rachel are glued to the computer screen with entertainment provided by Youtube. I make a bowl of cereal (Cherrios with Brown Sugar) and join them for a hot second.

Counting quarters in my room—Rachel’s sprawled out on the futon in a bathing suit—Anthony’s copying a poem he composed today in the green rocking chair then reads it aloud to me. He’s got a way with words, or at least he knows how to articulate himself but with style.

Sleep 7:30 a.m.

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