Thursday October 20 2011

DREAM: In a cafeteria of some kind—it’s more like a buffet that serves international cuisine at different stations. One in particular specializes in Danish cookies sliced in slender strips that you dip in chocolate and butterscotch sauces. I sit down with cell phone in hand as if I’m waiting to meet someone. A waitress offers me the specialty cookies and sauces. Because I’m sitting at the table I feel inclined. Later, I’m down at the far end of the room sitting in a booth—Anna is next to me—we’re browsing news feeds online. We find one related to her name and laugh. I notice its pouring rain outside the glass doors. I also notice that we’re on the very top floor of a skyscraper, at least 100 stories high. Someone approaches us and explains the benefits of cobblestone walkways in the rain as opposed to those made of cinder block. ☼☼☼ Basketball dreams.

Waking up just before 2 p.m.

Banana. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.

After having an unexpected chat with Phil Gray on Skype...I decide to wake Anthony to tell him the good news...

Me: “I got good news.”

Anthony: “What?”

Me: “Guess whose coming to town?”

Anthony: “Who?”

Me: “Who’s the man of your dreams?”

Anthony: “Phil Gray?”

Me: [smile]

Anthony [in disbelief]: “No he’s not.”

Egg Sandwich with Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

Finishing Body of Lies [2008].

Downstairs...Carmen and Jonathan are on the couch sharing something on a piece of paper. Stretching. Playing the guessing game with cards. I’m getting the numbers right but not the suits. Anthony of course is deejaying and facilitating the atmosphere with youtube videos and music. It has an effect. There’s dancing and shaking of the limbs—running up and down the stairs—jumping on the couches—raising the ceiling with my hands—David Bowie—Igg Pop: “Cause I’m a punk rocker yes I am!” Just another Thursday afternoon at 1435.

The Vaginasaurs practice at Stephanie’s house...there’s poodle urine all over the hardwood floor.

“We’re Poodle Rock!”


Stephanie: “Why can’t I just be me??”

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

The other day Margot made plans to see me tonight. It’s a little after 10. I grab a pizza from Chanello’s and meet at her place. It’s a long time since I’ve been here—I can’t even remember. Sharing the pizza—and sharing a few beers that harbor the flavor of Fruity Pebbles. She wanted to watch a scary movie, Case 39 [2009]—a typical American horror film but thrilling nonetheless. Afterwards she’s insistent on playing Dance Wii. She goes solo for the first few songs. I like to watch her dance. I like to watch her body move. And she’s clad in some new black dress she bought from American Apparel in Richmond, obviously with intention to look pretty, which she never has to try too hard to pull off anyway. I hold the second Wii controller and give it a go.

Afterwards, she plops on top of me and nuzzles her face in my neck—acting cute and affectionate and being sexually intrusive, which I’ve always liked about her. But I prepared myself mentally for this moment. Sex is not in the cards tonight. Rejection, however, is not a pleasant thing. She stumbles over to the far side of the couch with a sad pouty look on her face. I offer verbal and physical affections because I care...I care about her...I care about how she feels.

Me: “You look good in that dress. I like it.” [And she looks exquisite in it for sure.]

Her: “It didn’t do its job.”


Me: “I have to go soon...You want me to tuck you in? I can take that dress off you...”

Her: “Not unless you’re taking this dress off for other reasons.”

Me: “What other reasons?” [I know what the reasons are.]

We quietly enter her room as not to wake her grandparents...closing the door I slip her dress off, then her bra, and she finishes the rest. Now she’s standing there completely naked—I’m still fully clothed. I embrace that thing of beauty—wrapping my arms in every way I can, then tuck her into bed, tightening the blankets around her body. She tears up cause I’m about to go.

Me: “Don’t be sad...”

Her: “But I love you.”

Me: “That’s nothing to be sad about...I gotta go. Good night.”


Soon after I leave I receive a distressing text from her...

We belong together. How can that not be true if I love you so much?

There were so many moments I could’ve gave in to that sexual fire but I chose to resist. This phrase keeps popping up almost every time :::::::: Love isn’t enough.

My head hurts—Aloe Vera Juice.

Sleep 4 a.m.

No comments: