Tuesday May 8 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Stephanie and I are making a movie. The location is only one room which is understood to be China Wok. We set up a camera mounted on the front glass door – it will keep recording from that position for the entirety of the film. Stef and I are supporting actors along with another girl who is the main character. The plot isn’t very clear but the gimmick of the movie is the fact that it’s one uninterrupted shot. In the last scene Stef and I waltz out of frame to the outside.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 12:40 p.m.

Cinnamon Applesauce and OJ.

Settling a lease agreement with a new storage unit off VB Blvd. I’ll be sharing a unit with Josiah where we’re legally allowed to make noise after hours.


Grilled Cheese with Tomato on a Bagel. Creamy Tomato Soup. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.

Watching The Chamber (1996).

Working two hours at China Wok – taking four deliveries.

Then home.

Makin dinner: Baked Haddock Fillets with Onions, Peppers, Broccoli, and Rice. Landshark Lager.

Ling, my boss, surprises me with a call and pleads with me to come back to the restaurant to take four more deliveries. The other driver got stuck delivering to the other side of town. So I comply and hop in the car gulping down my food and beer. 

Back home.

Skippy and Richie are here. Skippy describes his plans to make a documentary interviewing Wal-Mart customers as they walk in and living in the store for 72 hours.

Kristin invited me to The Wave tonight for Goth Night. This will be a first for me. As soon as I tell Darren my plans he joyfully tags along. It’s always good to get him out of his room and out of the house.


On the drive there he takes over in speech about how objectifying sex helps one deal with the habit of going back to your ex. I agree with part of this but explain that I don’t need to objectify sex in order to do that. Emotional distractions are enough, even a mutual interest.

Darren: “Its ironic how the colors red, white and blue represent freedom, until they're flashing behind you.”


We arrive and get acclimated to the gothic eye candy that surrounds us – sipping on bottle PBR’s over the ledge of the dance floor. A few steampunk boys adorned with top hats and goggles pass by.

Me: “Dude, this is great. I love this. You’ve got anime ravers, steampunk kids, nu metal heads, goth kids...and then there’s us. This is fun.”

We continue to observe the style of dancing out there, which according to Darren, “just looks like awkward white people.”

Eventually, him and I march onto the floor and groove to the tunes of Joy Division and other darkwave or industrial tunes.


Off and on Kristin mingles with me at the bar. She’s wearing black attire – tank top and shorts with torn fishnet leggings. 

Me: “You look good!”

She’s happy that I came and provides the company when she’s not kicking it on the dance floor. 


Darren: “Is it me or does it smell like cotton candy in here?”

Me: “Oh it definitely does!”


It’s almost 2 so the night out comes to a close. Darren and I walk with Kristin to our car. We get in. Kristin’s in the passenger seat. Darren’s in the back. There’s a playful sense of difference between the world that Darren and I come from and the world that Kristin comes from.

Darren: “I am a wasteland of human thought!”


Kristin: “Let me scroll through your iPod.”

I put “Don’t Really Know Me” by Snowden on the stereo.

Me: “I think you’ll like this.”

Don't Really Know Me (EP Version)

Me: “C’mon. What do you think?”

Kristin: “Hm. It’s kind of boring.”

Me: “That’s what I thought too but not after the fifth time listening. You don’t understand...the lyrics...You gotta hear the lyrics.”


I walk her across the parking lot to her car and exchange a hug goodbye.

Kristin: “I want to hang out with you again!”

Me: “Of course. We will.”

She slips into the car but before I leave I slip in a quick friendly kiss on the cheek.

On the drive back to Virginia Beach Darren and I continue the subject matter started at the club about the people there identifying with a certain image and how he ridicules them for being consumerist whores.

Me: “But Darren, we’re all slaves. We all appeal to an image!”

It’s hard to get a word in when he’s on his soapbox. He really could pass for a philosopher of our era.

Back home.

Cookie Butter Sandwich. Coconut Milk.

Sleep at some point.

[i] Album artwork for Hypercaine by DJ Fresh.

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