[i]
☼ ○ ▬
I’m with a group of people. We’ve been brought to this field
in the middle of the wilderness. Industrious farm buildings and structures
surround us. Inside a brick barn we’re taken on a tour. Walking along a narrow
hallway passing symbolic installation rooms protected by prison bars to our
right. It’s like a museum...but a museum of modern activist thought. Some rooms
have primped up beds. Another has a video playing on a TV – a motif on Hitler.
I believe the name Hitler is used once or twice within every sentence. Our
guide brings us to the last room and hands out a book. We’re told to look
through it and find which subject of activism interests us the most, jot down
the information, and research into it later. It’s time to go. We migrate out into
a crop field. The group continues on and I’m left behind to answer a phone
planted into the ground along the crop line. I respond with hello. A woman on
the other line answers but it sounds like a pre-recorded message – something
similar to informing me I’ve won a prize or a trip. But the more I listen I
realize it’s not a message. It’s a real live person. So I strike up a personal
conversation.
“What’s your name?”
There’s a long pause then she replies, “Cindy Strip.”
Me: “Cindy Strip?”
Her: “Cindy Chateau—Sharpe. Cindy Sharpe.”
She sounds a bit thrown off guard but invites the
conversation.
Me: “Cindy. Where are you?”
Pause.
Me: “Like, where are you right now? England? Paris?”
It’s understood that my group and I are in England
currently. My intentions with this woman are to meet her in person. I feel a
mutual attraction over the phone.
Me: “Can we meet tonight?”
Her responses are sparse. Maybe she’s nervous. I don’t know.
I realize the van is leaving and I could miss my ride. Meanwhile, a weird
looking snapper turtle crawls around my feet. There’s a struggle and the turtle
bites my hand. I shove it off me and make a run for it. I make it just in time
and hop into the van.
Someone in the van says to me, “Don’t forget to take your
pills.”
Me: “What are you trying to say? Hey, what are you trying to
say? That I need pills?”
It was a joke.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up around 1 p.m.
Iced Oatmeal Breakfast Bar. Orange Juice.
Writing. Chores.
Nicole drops by to give me my keyboard back I let her
borrow. Meanwhile, Kevin’s learning how to use the laptop I just sold him.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey
Green Tea.
Hanging out with Gillian and Darren – Jupiter, the cat,
roaming around.
Leftover Beer-Glazed Black Beans with Onions, Kale, Carrots,
and Rice. PBR.
James Graves, Darren, and I head to Norfolk for a night out.
On the drive I attempt to chug a few beers. We meet up at Lola’s where they
have Indie Nights every Thursday. Earlier, Kristin had invited me for drinks
and dancing. We arrive. It’s a cozy little Caribbean restaurant/bar with a
small dance floor. Getting acquainted with our surroundings on the patio. Jamal
and his friend Justin are here. Not many familiar faces but we make new friends
quickly. Sharing PBR tallboys. Kristin and Hannah arrive on the scene. Kristin
greets me with an endearing hug that lasts at least 11 seconds.
Me: “This is not a normal hug.”
They have strap-on skin colored noses sitting in a glass
bowl at the bar. Some of us find amusement in them.
Bumming a cherry clove off a girl named Sue at a table.
We’re introduced to a guy named Benny who offers much for conversation and
cheer. Jamal insists on buying me a shot of vanilla whiskey and another
tallboy. Not long after this consumption do I feel extremely loose and happy. I
haven’t been this drunk in a good while. Joining the kids on the dance floor.
Zooming, stomping, and twirling. An eclectic mix of tunes ranging from Ladytron
to jock jams. I watch Kristin from time to time. We catch each other’s eyes and
share a sense of mutual engagement – not forgetting the connection – but still
presenting a casual appearance to everyone around us.
►◊◄ ►◊◄
►◊◄ ►◊◄ ►◊◄
►◊◄ ►◊◄
It’s closing time. I’m too drunk to drive and toss the keys
to Darren. He takes the wheel. James lying down in the back. Me in the
passenger seat. Reggie and the Full Effect’s album, Promotional Copy
blaring on the stereo. Darren and I share a nostalgic moment as we both
listened to this album in high school. Belching out the lyrics and enjoying the
simple-minded melodies.
Back home. I’m useless by myself so I attempt to sober up in
Darren’s bedroom waiting for this drunken high to rub off. Analyzing our
relationship issues and amusing ourselves with the cat’s ridiculous neurotic
behavior.
Cookie Butter Bagel and then bed. Sleep around 4:30 a.m.
[i] All images
by me.
No comments:
Post a Comment