Saturday December 31 2011


Waking up to morning noon. After I finish I like to stare, touch, and admire.

Cinnamon Oatmeal with Brown Sugar, Flax Seed, Raisins, and Milk.

Errands. Picking up my tailored pants.

Meeting up with Becca at her salon in Greenbrier Mall. She cuts my hair—shaved sides and back—teased poof ball on top. Afterwards, I treat her to Panera across the street.

Tuna Salad Sandwich with Lettuce and Tomato. Creamy Tomato Soup. Chips. Honey Green Tea. Ginger Snap Cheesecake.

“If you could live in one restaurant, what would it be?”

Work at China Wok for a few hours.

Back at home packing.

Teriyaki Noodles with Tofu and Mixed Vegetables. Carrot with Ranch.


It’s shortly after 11 p.m. and 2012 is so very near. Stopping by some apartment off Barberton where Art is partying with some Russian friends of his. They’ve got a plethora of random Russian cuisine finger foods set up on a table. Having one shot of whiskey.


Then, to Elliott’s place on 16th street. Raging bonfire and friends. Weezer and Devo in the background. It’s a calm ending for 2011. This past year deserves a mellow resolve. Counting down...watching the TV screen inside. Seeing the thousands of people fill up Times Square. Remembering that Anthony, James Graves, Kevin, and the kids are amongst the madness. I send out a toast to them in my head with my cup of champagne.


It’s after one am. I invite Margot over to the house. She got stuck at work. They made everyone stay until midnight in case the restaurant got busy. Here. A lot of unnecessary arguments are had over stupid issues about people she has ought with (because I was with said people at the bonfire tonight). Also the fact that the guy she hooked up with a few months ago is contacting her tonight through text doesn’t help the vibe. This idiot is trying to hook up with her again. Last night it was the same thing. She’s a wall to him though and attempting to break him down by calling him out on how much of a douche bag he is. I’m irritated that she’s even communicating with him at all. Even though the two of us are not dating, we have been hooking up and, in a way, pretending to date currently. I guess my irritation is justified in that I feel we should respect one another by not communicating with past hook-ups or lovers while this is going on. But whatever. What’s the point? I know this isn’t right. I know we don’t match and this won’t go anywhere but here...where we’ve brought it with all of it’s broken pieces and disheartening history. This is going to stop. For both of our sakes, separation is the key to success. Oh boy two thousand twelve, here I come...

A bowl of Lucky Charms.

Sleep sometime after 4 a.m.

[i] 2012 Bonfire. Image by me.

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