Tuesday October 18 2011

DREAM: Riding down Dam Neck Road in this strange version of a wheelchair—shuffling my feet hectically—passing by pedestrians—it’s almost like a parade. Later on, I’m with Amanda and another friend. We’re trying to get to Tucker Bennett’s house. It’s understood to be on a street called Sheffield. We stop by Amanda’s parents place in the middle of Kings Grant, which is not the small three-bedroom abode like in waking life, but rather a giant two-story home like all the houses off Little Neck Road. I saunter up the stairs to look for Amanda because she disappeared as soon as we arrived. Her brother warns me about something, maybe to not be up here. Then I spot Amanda lying in a king size pile of blankets attempting to take a nap.

“Amanda! What are you doing? We have to go!”

Finally I gather everyone downstairs in a room. My electronics (GPS, Laptop) aren’t working properly—internet shaky. Someone offers me a foldout map of Virginia Beach but it doesn’t have a list of the street names so there’s no way to find this road unless you just browse the map carefully. I’m stuck in a behavior pattern of unfolding and straightening the map. I’m shown where we’re located. And I know the general vicinity of where Sheffield is supposed to be, but no luck.

Hot Cream of Wheat with Brown Sugar, Vanilla, and Milk.

Dropping my car off at the shop for an oil change...

Chilling at Nicole and Amanda’s place while I wait...a few heated conversations here and there...

“It’s summer apparently.”

I wish I could unseat myself from this drama lama rollercoaster. This ride sucks. Get me out of here and infuse my ears with the mellow cello.

Banana. Aloe Vera Juice.

True friends (real people) aren’t afraid to point out inconsistencies in others. It’s a respectable and honorable attribute to not accept anything less than a standard you’ve already set for important people in your life.

I strive to help people question their actions and thoughts because I don’t think most do it often enough if at all.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

Watching a little bit of Body of Lies (2008).

The very first line in this movie is: “As we destroyed the bus in Sheffield last week...” How strange that I had a dream related to a street called Sheffield, which in waking life is a city in England.

Cox Communications calls in attempt to persuade me to upgrade our basic cable service to some digital crap with extra channels...

“Uh…yeah we have cable but I live in a townhome that doesn’t give us a choice. If I had the choice we wouldn’t have any cable so I don’t think we’re interested in the upgrade.”

“Alright sir...well if you have questions feel free to call us at...”

I hang up and notice this phone conversation lasted exactly 1 minute and 11 seconds.

Darren walks into my room unannounced. Him and Anthony just got back from a day trip to Norfolk.

Me: “I want to surround myself with people I respect...”

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

It’s poker night at the house. This place is at capacity with players and non-players. There’s wine, loud music, and unbridled spirits. Full table. Full volume. Sometimes, or what seems like all times, yelling—demanding—obnoxious noise all piercing into my ears. It’s too much, just too much.

Mushroom Rice Ricotta with Mixed Vegetables.

Hours go by and the game persists...eventually ending with a truce between Darren and I (because of his eagerness to catch the bar before it closes). There’s a lot of drama going on around me, which is inevitable in a place with such diversity. I’m exhausted, yet unaffected.

Apple Fritter Bread with Anthony...discussing a recap of everything that’s been going on—the shifts and changes internally with our friends and the people we hold dear—and the preparation for the near future.

Me: “Occupy Robert’s Room!”

Anthony: “Now that’s a cause I can get behind.”

I take a smoke walk outside with a Djarum Black—it’s raining steadily but I take shelter under the Chanticleer trees. My head needs clearing—spacing. I realize it’s after 2 a.m. and the bars are closing. I notice Darren’s car is still here. He was supposed to go drinking with Margot and James Duke but I guess they went by themselves. I just happen to catch them cruising down the street. They park in the cul-de-sac but don’t get out for at least a minute. Then they’re out of the car heading towards the house. I’m spying on them involuntarily, well now it’s voluntary. His arm playfully around her as they walk. I’m not comfortable with this. I finish my smoke and head inside. They’re sitting close together at the top of the stairs. After eavesdropping a little bit I eventually confront them and demand they leave.

Me: “Please just go. Look, I respect you but this is my ex-girlfriend. You have to go.”

James exits but she refuses to leave and I allow her to explain herself...

The same thing happened from last time we hung out at Art’s place...he tried to kiss her...in the car but she turned away again. I find it hard to believe but she’s usually honest with me especially when I’m already in tune with what’s going on. My main argument for her is NOT IN MY HOUSE, and this is something I stated as a rule whenever we hang out her and I: no flirting with other people around each other. And she comes over and blatantly allows some guy to give her attention...

Her: “Cut me a break. The person I want to be with doesn’t want to be with me so I’m getting attention elsewhere.”

But she’s upset that I’m uneasy and tries to explain herself fully that nothing happened and that nothing’s changed in the department of “I care about you and I love you”. And that in the end, I broke up with her so what right do I have, which I recognize and accept. There’s some affection exchanged, mostly coming from her, which feels nice...she wants to spend the night. I deny it because I know if she does we’ll end up having sex. And then it will just be another relapse and step to add to the never-ending ending of us. There’s tears. There’s silence. She leaves grudgingly.


She calls almost immediately after...

I try so hard to listen to the loss and pain in her voice and be compassionate and sensitive::::::::but her voice—her logic—slanted—the reasons for our ending—everything’s twisted. I’m supposed to be the guilty one. I’m the one at fault.

Her: “You let us get torn apart.”

Me: “We tore each other apart!”

The heart wrenching conversation keeps going and going. Feeling overwhelmed, impatient, and tired. I hang up in reaction to the feeling of no control...

The missed calls pile up on my phone...after some reflection I finally decide to respond...

Me: “im sorry. i hate this but please let me be for the night.”

Her: “I’ll do one better-I’ll leave you alone forever.”

Oolong Tea is a good remedy for a stressed me.

Sleep shortly after 5 a.m.

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