Friday June 15 2012


☼ ○ ▬

My mother has moved out of her house with Jimmy and into a condo in what’s understood to be Chase Pointe Circle, or Latitudes Apartments, down the street from Chanticleer, but it’s exterior has a haunting European design. It’s nighttime and the streetlights glow making it a dreary urban scene. I walk up to the third floor and into the apartment. Jimmy is there doing some kind of handy work on a door, but he doesn’t live there, just my mom, which doesn’t make any sense to me but everything seems to be normal. I step back outside for some fresh air. I catch a beautiful picturesque scene of a full moon hovering over the horizon of a hill with a fleet of swans flying overhead. Upon returning it’s proving difficult to find my way back. I keep hitting the top story and missing the third floor. I get lost in a maze of stairwells and hallways.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up off and on throughout the morning. It’s after 10 a.m. We’re cuddling and holding each other. It’s strange to be in Margot’s bed but then again so familiar too. I wanted to be satisfied with mere affection and I think she would’ve been too. But damn, it just gets too hot in this space between us. Touch me. Touch you. Sharing sexual pleasure once again.


What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m getting entrapped in a cycle of a disenchanting sexual corruption. Even though I’m not dating Kristin I have still been seeing her and there’s an understanding of commitment to the cause before any rash moves are made. So I feel somewhat guilty because I’ve convinced her I was over Margot, which I am. I think about her, I miss her sometimes, but I am in no way emotionally wrapped up in her. I’ve explained this to Kristin. But now these actions by themselves prove the opposite. I would’ve been fine staying home and not migrating to Margot’s place. I know I made a choice but I was practically coerced. I’ve betrayed so many.

Back home.

Scrambled Eggs. Toast. Orange Juice. Strawberries.

Dropping my car off at the shop on 17th street for an oil change. It’s going to be a few hours so I ride back on my bike.

Tortilla Chips with Salsa and Avocado. Strawberry Kombucha. Banana.

Art stops by and updates me on the perilous business situation he got himself wrapped up in. He kindly takes me to my car.

Dutched Cocoa Crème Cookies. More Kombucha.

James Graves stops by after working out. Just as we’re talking I receive a call from China Wok. They need help. So James tags alongside me in the car while I do my China Wok thing for an hour and a half. We engage in a much-needed pow wow – discussing our respective woes and relationship issues.


After the shift we drop into the Total Wine store that just opened up, replacing where Borders used to be. We build our own six-pack of beers and bring it back home.


Kristin’s here and the American couch surfers as well. Sharing dinner.

Chic Peas with Broccoli, Peppers, Onions, Rice, and Garlic Bread.

James: “Isn’t it nice that we can eat dinner together as a family?”

Sipping on our pricey beers.

Conversation shifts between the existence of broccoli worms to analyzing new agey paintings from a book.


James and I start blowing melodically on the almost empty beer bottles...


Kristin comments jokingly, “Stop being so fucking artsy dude.”

Radar: “So much Artsy.”

Kristin: “It’s just so organic and meaningful in here right now I can’t fucking handle it!”


We continue and progress into harmonic intervals...


Kristin: “Hipster commune. Do you feel a little hipster in here?”

Radar: “Yeah kinda.”

Monica: “A little bit.”

Kristin: “Like a hipster breeze.

Radar: “I feel like I should be at a coffee shop...”

Kristin: “Reading poetry that you wrote when you were a kid. Or you just sit there and speak freely what’s on your mind. And everyone will be like, oh man that’s so fucking meaningful.


Time to make Chocolate Chip Cookies, except we concoct a Vegan recipe using a mixture of vegetable oil, vegan butter, and bananas. They turn out splendid. We all enjoy them with some Almond Milk.


A black friend of Kevin and Richie’s takes notice to the Shaquille O’Neal picture we have hanging up on the wall...“Shaq is sooo black!!”

[Everybody laughs]

“This IS the color black. Is that not not even brown a little bit?”  


In her classic animated style Kristin reacts to the dirty bathroom, “The filth of your apartment is like getting to me right now.”

Me: “Shut up. There’s no filth to it. I just vacuumed the whole house!”

Kristin: “Robert, I counted. There are five pubes...on the toilet bowl...downstairs!”



There’s commotion in Kevin’s room as he’s pulling out the measuring tape to envision moving his bed around. I gave him the idea so his lamp could be more conveniently placed in the room.

Me: “Dude, let me help you with feng shui.”

Kevin: “I don’t speak Spanish, Robert.”



Then, downstairs we bust out the markers and drawing utensils. James draws a fun portrait of Kristin. I finish up a piece I worked on a month ago.

Later in the night Kristin and I retreat to my bedroom. But things aren’t as upbeat as I would expect and our interaction takes a nosedive. I might have offended her in a subtle way. There’s a conflict. She’s ready to dive into a relationship apparent in her dissatisfaction. A terrible eager insecurity comes out. I’m sort of blindsided, as I didn’t see the depth of this limbo problem. It even gets mildly hostile at some point. I don’t know how to handle this. I feel burnt out. We’re locked in quite a debate for at least two or three hours. In the midst of it I get a call from Darren about him needing a jumpstart. We go together and I end up just bringing him back home. Kristin and I stay in the car and continue our pressing thoughts.

Her: “You’re just so wrapped up in your life here.”


Me: “Maybe I’m meant to be alone forever...a grandfather.”

I don’t like this mood between her and I – this antsy anxious callous mood. She leaves on a frantic note.


Settled down in my bed on the phone talking for a little bit longer as the late night hour looms over my head. She says something I think sums up the issue, “I’m hoping for too much too soon. I can’t be wrapped up in your life.”


It’s long after 4 a.m. The conversation ends somewhat sweetly and I pummel through the pre-sleep phase with distressing thoughts.

[i] All images by me.
[ii] Image by Kristin.

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