Tuesday March 13 2012

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DREAM: In a store or lab of some kind with a friend. We’re observing two exotic bullfrogs, tropical and big in size. One of the frogs suddenly opens his mouth wide and makes a croaking noise. My friend and I are startled and not sure what to expect. We slowly back away as both frogs begin to spew out this green acidic slime. I hide behind a clothes rack but my buddy gets doused in the stuff. I somehow get a little bit on my arm. We immediately run to the emergency shower in the hallway and wash off. The frogs have become hostile...


Waking up at 1 p.m.


Darren’s finally arrived back home from Radford. He was stuck there with no ride back for a few weeks. He explains to me his new revelations on possibly going back to school and moving there.


Bagel with Butter and Grape Jelly. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).


Gillian walks in. She’s here with a friend to see her brother Darren. I’m kind of startled at her presence.

Me: “You make me nervous every time I see you.”

Her: “Oh. It’s nice to have someone be honest about their feelings. Is it like butterflies?”

Me: “No. It’s not like butterflies in my stomach or anything. Maybe butterflies in another area of my body.”

It’s hard to describe but there’s always been a lustful tension between us that makes me feel internally weak. I really don’t want to be around this. She’s dangerous to me and could almost pass for my very own Bathsheba.

Kevin and Darren return to the house. Darren was job hunting and found an opportunity to be a server at Applebee’s.


Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio.


Getting a few groceries.


Dropping my car off again at the shop cause there’s a steering issue. I bike the rest of the way to the clubhouse to work out...a mixture of cardio and lifting weights. I’m hoping to stay fit, tone up, and build a little muscle. Then biking back home.


Black Pepper Garlic Salmon with Rice, Onions, Mushrooms, Tomatoes, and Multi-Colored Peppers.

Watching Black Death (2010).


I struck a deal with Darren for him to trade off his dish duties to me for $60 a month while he continues to clean the rest of the house.

Organizing all the pots and pans. Consolidating and making more space. I had forgotten how much I enjoy cleaning the dishes. I don’t know where this springs. Back at 1623 we didn’t have a dishwasher and so I found myself just keeping up with the dishes and kitchen. I guess my mother trained me well.


Brownies and Coconut Milk.


Playing the guitar and singing in the kitchen.


I receive a phone call from Margot. She’s upset about something dealing with her friends. And it sounds like she’s been drinking. Attempting to describe what happened but it’s hard to understand while she’s crying and breathing heavily. She walks into the house. I wrap my arms around her while she sobs into my chest.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re here now. C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”

Her body’s going through one of those drunken miserable episodes where she repeats things over and over again...begging for my comfort and attention. She strips down and hops into bed. Lips frowning majorly.

Robert! Please. Please. Stop it. Please. I love you.

“I know. I love you too. I’m here. Just relax. Lay down.”

The crying...I look out for the tears as they come and dab them with a tissue before they fall too far down her face. All of a sudden she starts whining for Jupiter, Darren’s cat.

Give me the kitty! Robert, I’m not kidding! I want the kitty.

...

I intrude on Darren.

Me: “The queen requests the kitty.”

And retrieve Jupiter. Margot enjoys his company but for only a little while. Once she tries to hold him (he hates being held) he starts biting. She’s done with him now.

Take him away! He’s being a fucking bitch.

What am I right now? I really do feel like a caretaker to a demanding queen who expects immediate satisfaction.

She continues weeping and breathing heavy, “Ah huh! Ah huh! Robert. I don’t wanna be a fucking psycho bitch. I just think I can be crazy to my boyfriend. I don’t wanna be fucking nuts! I just wanna be with you. Ah huh!

And she won’t remember any of this tomorrow.


Strawberries.


Sleep 4 a.m.


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