Saturday May 12 2012


Getting out of bed at 11:15 a.m.

All day shift at China Wok.

Ordering from a stall at Sonic. I listen to the lady forget my order...

Me: “Yeah, I’ll have a supersonic breakfast burrito. No sausage and no onions.”

Lady: “Okay sir. So I have a supersonic breakfast burrito. Is that all? No drink with that?”

Me: “No. That’s all.”

Lady: “That’ll be $3.52. We’ll have that right out.”

I gave her the benefit of the doubt thinking she would take care of my special request. But my doubt was over 50%, maybe even 70%. And my fears are confirmed when the order is brought out. This got me thinking about listening skills and how consumed most people are in their own reality...their own mind. It’s like people filter out what’s actually said and in return receive a “Choose Your Own Adventure” story.

Supersonic Breakfast Burrito (Egg, Cheese, Tater Tot, Tomato, Jalapeno). Orange Juice.

I have to take our couch surfer, Chen, to the bus stop. She’s going back to Williamsburg, then off to China I suppose.

Me: “I hope you had a good time.”

Peanut Butter Cookie Butter Bagel. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Strawberry Lemonade. Strawberries.

Darren and Gillian roll up to the house while I’m making lunch. Darren does this thing where he jokingly says, “Awwwww,” and it’s completely random and uncalled for. I guess me cleaning up and making food was enough to call for it this time.

Me: “Darren, why do you do that? It’s so unprecedented! It’s like Awww. Robert’s doing something with his life. How cute.

The day continues. Deliveries are steady but not too overwhelming.

Quaker Cheddar Cheese Rice Snacks.

I don’t know if it’s the monotony of the job but I can’t get out of this blasé lackadaisical mood that I was feeling last night.

One of those insanely long Hummer limos passes by. A kid dressed up in a tux rolls the window down with that Grouplove song “Tongue Tied” blaring in the background. He’s yelling out the lyrics to me trying to get my attention.

“Take me to your best friend’s house. I loved you then I love you now. Oh yeah!”

I refuse to look at first but eventually wave my hand and sing along.

I really want Margot’s saga to be over with. I want it to be legitimate this time. No returns. Rethinking about yesterday when I visited her for that little bit of time. I really hope to not see her again for a long while. I need her to escape my heart for good. It’s the only way.

Interactive texting throughout the day with Kristin...

Kristin: “So what did you think after you left last night.”

Me: “I had some pretty dark thoughts but that was after I left my friends going away thing. I got kinda depressed not from you per say. I think I’m going through a quarterlife crisis.”

Kristin: “I mean really I felt weird last night.”

Me: “Why did you feel weird though?”

Kristin: “I felt like I was letting myself like you a lot and then realized I have a lot of things going on in my life and can’t get emotionally caught up.”

Me: “I understand that. allow yourself to like me just a little bit then.”


Kristin: “I’ll text you tonight maybe we can meet up :)”

Me: “:)(:”

Kristin: “Funny little smiley face”

Me: “its mirrored. the bipolar version”

Kristin: “Wait so you’re happy and sad hahaha”

Me: “that’s the idea.”

Snapping the peas on the down time. This shift is almost over.

Finally home. I brought James Graves some beef teriyaki. I sit down at the double card table and eat dinner with the family (the kids: Darren, James, Gillian, and Devon).

Hot and Sour Soup. Spring Rolls. Shrimp Egg Roll.

Sipping on white wine from a bag while listening to the usual critical chatter out of Darren’s mouth. Later I sit down in a chair and rip up the keys on the piano – old melodies – new melodies while James draws a charcoal portrait of me.


A little more wine and I’m inspired to make art in the dining room – all the materials are still out from Wednesday night. I’ve decided markers are my favorite medium. James, Gillian, and Devon bumble around me – cheery music in the background.

When touch becomes intangible

When hearts lose their mojo

When fire meets innocence

How does true love behave?

Gillian, as usual, pushes her free-form jazzy self onto me and asks, “So can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Me: “If you want.”

I give her a pair of stretchy blue pajama pants and a t-shirt. She hops into the bed. I’m tired so I join her immediately. I know what’s about to happen. The anticipation has been here all night. And I have no inhibitions or strings attached. The biological part of me is extremely excited. But there’s another part of me that’s dead. We begin the movements. She’s too easily pleasured and orgasms within minutes after my touch. I put on a condom and so it goes. She takes on the role of a ghost to me. In many moments my hands become confused at what they’re grappling onto (these hips are foreign)(this chest and these boobs don’t feel right). My eyes lose touch with reality (this is not the same backside – and this skin is not the same caramel color). Despite I lunge and push and tug and hold tight. The heavy breathing should give it away...that I’m finishing. I let out a sigh of relief and giggle a little.   


Me: “Glad we finally got that out of the way.”

I guess it has been a long time coming. There’s always been sexual tension between Gillian and I since day one. But I’ve never really been available until an official sense. Maybe this is a shallow way to solidify the disconnect I’m striving for between Margot and I. But here I am. I’ve done it. I don’t feel guilt. I don’t feel regret. It’s on par with the masturbatory sessions I have on a regular basis. Plus, the condom adds a certain variable...a certain kind of wall of protection...a limit to the sexual experience. It’s almost like having fake sex. But sex is still sex, wrapped or not. I just find a stark difference here. And then there’s the kissing. Not one time did she kiss me nor did I kiss her tonight. I don’t know why but kissing holds more value for me. I don’t offer it to many people.


I’m not very affectionate, as we lie there drifting off to sleep sometime around 3 a.m.

[i] How Does True Love Behave? Four panel marker drawings by me.

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