Sunday April 3 2011

DREAM: In the cafeteria of my old high school, Ocean Lakes. I’m leaning up against the trashcan scraping off one of the trays with a fork—it’s exceptionally dirty with spaghetti mess. Concerned about it getting on my pants because my body is right up against the can. I finish and return the tray to one of the cafeteria ladies. My hands are dirty. I find some sort of a keg with a knob you twist in order to get soapy water to pour out. I wash my hands but can’t seem to twist the knob to turn the water off. There’s air being pressured out of it causing sort of a squealing sound. I inform the ladies in the kitchen that it’s broken and walk on. It’s time to go. I ask Margot to help me grab all the bags on the table. As I’m retrieving them, across the table Joanne Truitt is talking to me. She says something that rhymes with “I’m not dumb” and I point out how clever that is. Gabriel Truitt is standing nearby. He places a five-dollar bill on the table for Joanne. Not sure why.

Waking just after 4:30 p.m.

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

Work at China Wok.

Just got off work. As soon as I pull up near the house to park on the street, a bearded bum-looking dude whom I remember from a Show N Tell a while back confronts me and claims the neighbor across the street hired him to block off the street and get our cars out of there.

Me: “Really? Who are you?”

Him: “I’m David.”

He shakes my hand.

Me: “David, the street belongs to the city. We can park here. Tell me how I’m supposed to park in my driveway right now!”

He goes on a drunken rant about this and that. I’m a little irritated by this guy because, 1, I just got home, and 2, this is bullshit, and 3, he’s drunk. None of it makes any sense. As if there wasn’t already enough pressure coming from other sources.

Me: “Look man, I’m going inside my house now.”

I waltz into the house—people hanging out on the couch and such—I’m yelling, “What is going on?! This place is about to explode!”

Our neighbors hate us because of all of Kenneth’s junk in the yard and permanent presence. As well, our parked cars on the street seem to be a nuisance to everyone even though the street isn’t their property.

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

Google work.

Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.

The queen is sick—and I haven’t legitimately seen her in a few days. I go visit at her place. We greet each other with a long warm hug—she won’t let go.

Stretching—she pulls out her old yearbooks. When I was in sixth grade she was in first grade. Whoa. That’s funny to think about. And here we are.

Her: “So are you my boyfriend?”

We’ve spent a lot of time together the past month since the Valentine’s Day disaster—or the Dark Ages of Rejection as I like to call it. Everything has changed so much now, mainly because of the persistence in exclaiming my true love towards her. She recognized my sincerity and has responded with a resounding sound of acceptance and reciprocation. And here we are. She wants security and so do I.

I explain to her that forgiveness and trust is crucial if we’re going to get back into anything. Sometimes she doesn’t want to admit it but she holds a lot of grudges and resentment against me. And now, I also do the same in a way. But this in particular has caused a lot of bullshit and damage.

Me: “You know I want to be with you……Would you want to be in a relationship with someone who still holds a grudge against you? We have to make a clean slate. Consider this an ultimatum. I’m not dating you until you forgive me. I have to do the same and it has to be verbal. Speaking it out loud is where it begins. So just think about that.”

Dinner: Udon Noodles with Mixed Vegetables.

Rachel bestowed the house with a monk figurine and a watermelon dress earlier today. I decide to be festive and wear the dress while I eat dinner and watch the drama unfold around me.

Kenneth has really lost it and I finally have the opportunity to see it unleash on myself. He’s really lost his wit and lets confrontational situations get the best of him—no logic—in his head everybody else is to blame for his misery. I’m sick of it. We get into an interesting squabble after our next-door neighbor raises Cain outside because of the racket Kenneth is making outside at 2 in the morning.

Newspaper route.

Eating two Cinnamon Sugar Donuts and Coffee from 7-11.

Google work.

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

Popcorn and Chocolate.

Watching The Parking Lot Movie [2010].

Sleep 9:30 a.m.

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