Sunday July 3 2011

DREAM: I’m working as a waiter for a high class Asian restaurant. An old friend of mine, Gordon, is sitting at a round table with a bunch of his family. I’m waiting near the kitchen for his food. The cooks prepare a yellow sponge cake on a white plate and then pour orange tea over it for flavor. It’s understood that this is an Asian delicacy desert. I bring over the cake to his table and place it in front of him. He’s too busy laughing and having a good time to notice it’s me. I expected him to recognize an old friend.

As soon as I walk into work, Cecily’s on her cell phone yapping and yelling like a Chihuahua. She directs it towards Ling in the back kitchen. These are the most passionate and desperate tones I’ve ever heard uttered out of her mouth, and his. I really wish I could translate the topic of argument. But it’s mostly her giving the speeches. She’s terribly upset, so much that her voice has gotten hoarse—a disturbing thing to listen to.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Biscoff (Margot) Spread. Orange Juice. Zinc. Peach.

All day shift at China Wok.

My first order is in Chanticleer so I drop back into my house to see if my baby’s still sleeping in my bed. There she is, all comfy and cozy. Sometimes when I look at her in bed I envision wings attached to her back and instead of the bed sheets, a pillowy cloud hovering underneath her body. And maybe an image of a 36 pack of toilet paper rolls in the background.

Me: “Kit-ty!”

Embracing her warm body. She’s making those sweet noises I love to hear.

Me: “Guess what I had this morning? You. On a bagel.”

Driving down the long trek of numbered streets delivering to someone on 72nd. Margot sends me a slew of upsetting texts. She just finished reading yesterday’s blog entry. My “thoughts are really hurtful and disturbing” to her and the fact “that every fucking person you [I] know knows about it the same time” she’s finding out is even more disturbing. I knew doing what I’m doing would create problems like this—putting the mystery out there for all to see. It’s tough for her to take on that role. It’s almost like The Truman Show except we know we’re being watched.

On the phone with her…………“I love you, baby! I want to be with you!” I say this almost teary eyed and with fervor.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Tomato and Mayonnaise. Kettle Cooked Potato Chips with Avocado. Honey Green Tea.

At the house real quick for a lunch break. Chilling in Darren’s room—Devon’s here too—she’s visiting for the weekend.

Darren: “You just need to find the………the exit.”

I get the call from Ling and it’s back to the grind…

Driving all over creation to fill Virginia Beach’s stomach with Chinese food—there’s no stopping…except for an Oreo Blizzard.

Back home. Anthony informs me a psychic is coming over to tell Kevin’s sexual fortune. Apparently, this is real. I don’t believe him and it never happens.

I grab James and we join Raven, Amanda, and a guy named John at the Friends School playground—enjoying a late night rope swing.

Darren bought a six-pack of Redhook Wit Ale for him and I, which has a hint of ginger in it. Trying out a bottle.

Everyone’s getting live in the living room—playing truth or dare. Within 10 minutes 90% of the males have their shirts off. I don’t think this house has had this much excitement since we’ve moved in.

Someone dares me to re-enact this funny picture we have up on the wall…

And I’m not sure what the actual dare is this time but Kevin is smothered in Sonic stickers.

Dinner: Red Beans and Rice with a Carrot.

Gosh I’m incredibly thirsty and I don’t know why. And I can’t stop drinking water.

Watching this:

Rachel’s behind me engaged in a text conversation.

Me: “You’re a drifter, Rachel.”

Her: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I mean, you’re a drifter.”

After a nice hot shower and cold glass of Milk, it’s time to go to bed a little early.

Sleep sometime after 3 a.m.

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