11-11-11

DREAM: I’ve been informed of something dreadful. Standing downstairs in the dining room—flattened boxes and blankets scattered about the room. Margot nonchalantly tells me she had sex with someone else a few days ago. She’s about to leave but uses the guest bathroom by the door first. I step outside—pacing—waiting for her to return. She’s done. Then I walk her through the Chanticleer parking lot—prying into the how and why.

Me: “What the fuck?! When did this happen?”

Her: “Remember the night I was coming onto you?”

Me: “When was that?”

She’s being very evasive—not answering my questions directly—sometimes not answering at all. I have to repeat myself.

Her: “Sunday.”

She starts going into details of who and where it happened, with intent on hitting me below the belt. My head and heart feels like it’s just been ripped to pieces. I’m holding and leaning into her—weeping. The sounds of my cry make a wheezing sound—hyperventilating. I’m crushed.

Me: “Margot! Noooo! Don’t do this to me...”

I won’t let her go. At one point she trips and falls to the ground—her back on the cement. I watch her face, squinting in agony, maybe from the fall or just the situation in general. I lie down beside her—my hands on her precious shoulders. My entire being in shock—attempting to salvage a love lost.

Me: “I love you more than anyone else in the world.”

Eyes open at 1:11 p.m. That nightmare felt so real it took me a few minutes to realize it was a dream. There’s emotional remnants lingering...

Cinnamon Bun Oatmeal. Banana. OJ. Zinc.

To be needed by another in an intimate way is what I fear I will lose with her. She adores me. She loves me. She NEEDS me. I’m so terribly afraid that time will strike through our connective glue and diminish the NEED—the need for each other. And in doing so another will come along and sweep her up. I need strength.

Texting...

Me: “i had the most horrible nightmare with you.”

Her: “Aw what happened baby?”

Me: “ill email it to you.”

Her: “That intense huh?”

Me: “yeah it was intense. a really deep sleep.

Her: “Wow. I just read it. I’ve had dreams like that before and I wake up sweating. They suck. It was just a nightmare though.”

Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. White Peach Tea.

Watching Beautiful [2009].

Editing drums on Ableton.

I get called into work for an hour at China Wok.

Picking up Darren from work. He rode my bike there but because he doesn’t want to brace the cold weather back he requested I give him a lift. On the drive home. I realize something crucial about him...

Me: “Darren, you take everything seriously.”

He agrees. Despite his abrasive and confrontational manner, which sometimes is sarcastic, he’s serious about his beliefs and seeks to obtain more of them. I realized this after I lied to him, saying we changed our plans tonight about going to The Wave dance club. He believed me so easily. Maybe I’ve stopped taking things seriously. But I just adapt to my social environment. If the people that I’m around often have high levels of sarcasm and are offbeat then I have to speak their language. If people around me are tame and austere then I too become that. But I need my balance.

Researching diarists. Brainstorming—planning.

Black Pepper Salmon with Onions and Stuffing and Broccoli. 7up.

Coloring 101 at the card table...

11:11 p.m. hits and everyone in the house decides it would be a good idea to shout and holler right outside my bedroom door...

“HAPPY 11:11!!!!” “ROBERT!!!” “AHHHH” “HOOOOO”

I scoop up the kids, the family, the house, the collective, and the friends that tag along—packing them in the station wagon—heading to The Wave in Norfolk to dance the last dance, in celebration of the honorary phenomenal eleven.

On the drive there...

Anthony: “Captain’s Blog. Starring 11, 11, 11. These are the final voyages of the USSRobert’s Blog!”

Stef: “Robert, you can’t kidnap me!”

Once there everything comes to fruition—the music—Passion Pit and The Killers—sharing PBR’s and genuine joy for life...

Making fun of ourselves and the hipster culture we associate with...

“Occupy Indie Night!”

Passing the video camera around to capture footage for http://www.onedayonearth.org/

We encircle each other on the dance floor and shake our limbs with abandon paying no mind to the eyes around us. It’s just me...with friends...I LOVE.

MGMT’s big hit booms on the speakers and we chant and shout::::::::::::

“I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw, I’m in the prime of my life...

This is our decision to live fast and die young.

We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun...

There’s really nothing, nothing we can do.

Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew...”

Anthony was right. This will be the final voyage for the blog, at least for now. Don’t worry, I’ll explain more tomorrow...in a letter. A shift in blog consciousness coming soon.

Cherrios with Brown Sugar.

Sleep 4:41 p.m.