Tuesday October 4 2011

DREAM: In somebody else’s bedroom in 1435…maybe it’s mine. Jessa Potter is in here with me. She locked the door. A physical tension. In a rush I rub my face along her cheek and neck, but nothing else. The nuzzling sensation is enough. Then, we lie down on the bed. I see Darren and Kevin through the skinny glass rectangle built into the door—they run by and notice what’s going on. Darren is jumping up and down pointing his finger at me in an attempt to embarrass us. Jessa’s back is turned and she’s making a thrusting action towards me, so it looks like something it’s not. I get up and walk around the room.

Josh knocks on the door, “Is Jessa in here? Where is she?”

Feeling a little guilty, I try to act casual and fiddle with something on the shelf at the far end of the room while he enters and interacts with Jessa.

Waking up around 2:30 p.m.

Hot Cream of Wheat with Brown Sugar and Milk.

Darren: “I want to tie her up and cover her in peanut butter and jelly and then have a congress of ferrets lick it off her. Eat! Eat my precious!

Cleaning up around the house.

Bank—errands—with Anthony and Lauren.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Chicken Noodle Soup. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Gangster No. 1 [2000].

Pinball Locomotive practice at Rusty’s place. Two adorable cats. I’m playing the minimalist three-piece drum set. Running through songs. It’s loud. It’s danceable. It’s Rock N Roll. It’s live.


Back home…most of the crew is home. Everyone’s making their own dinner.

Eating Chicken, Black Beans, and Rice with Mixed Vegetables. Pomegranate Cherry Ade.

I’m taking the role of housewife by preparing the poker table, lighting a Christmas scented candle, and baking gingerbread. Rounding up the boys: Darren, Kevin, James Graves, and the other James (Darren’s friend). Nicole joins us, the beginner in our poker circle. Sharing Gingerbread with Cream Cheese Icing and Coffee. Things are verbally rowdy and socially exhausting as usual, but it’s a laugh riot and it’s all about the camaraderie.

Darren, retorting to Kevin, “I’ve been Darren Warrington for 23 years and it’s getting old!”

The boys are getting antsy for the game to conclude so they can go to Baja’s. Eventually, I win the pot with a spade flush…

Out on the back porch with Nicole engaging in an intense conversation about relationships—the disappointment you experience when they go dry—the concept that maybe everyone that you develop a relationship with is only there for a season; that permanence is an illusion we choose to believe for the sake of the posterity in the relationship—sharing my personal stories of the past year. I keep an eye on this slimy slug inching up the white wall next to me…this night air is cool and refreshing in my post-sick lungs…

Darren and the boys are back from the bar…Darren pops outside and immediately goes on a rant about drugs and his uber knowledge of them.

Kevin thought it would be comical to sneak into my room and revise my blog entry for today, turning it into an x-rated script with things like…well, I’m not going to repeat them. But I’ll have to give him credit for creativity cause they were legitimately funny. I encourage Darren to wrestle Kevin as punishment. And they actually do it. It’s a good match to watch—knocking over the DVD tower in the process…

Popcorn. Chocolate. Eyes Wide Shut [1999].

Sleep sometime after 5:30 a.m.

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