Saturday June 30 2012


Waking up at 11:10 a.m.

Orange Juice. White Apricot.

All day shift at China Wok.

Getting a sunlit look at my new ride. She’s the same wagon I had before but with a fresh color. It’s a little flashier than I prefer but then again maybe not.


The counter-cultural propaganda is picking up around here. I would say this is a positive thing for Virginia Beach consumers.

It’s a fairly busy lunchtime. Too many orders at once.

Scrambled Egg with Tomato. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Honey Green Tea.

Snippets of a text conversation with Kristin...

Her: “I feel exhausted. I feel drained. I feel anything but uplifted by you which I know is not your intention. My heart is reserved to be given fully not partially.”

Me: “do you understand that I love your heart and admire it??? I’m just not ready for such a fierce of a thing just yet. but I want a heart like yours eventually.”

Her: “I feel rejected. You are not as mature in your heart as me. That is a shame.”

Maybe my intentions were misunderstood? But I had none when we first met. I was open-minded to whatever course it would take...whether into something deep and soulful or something mere friendly and light. But now we’ve arrived at the end of the tunnel. We have no more time left to waste. Do we part? Or do we start?

Then...into dinnertime.

There’s been at least three different instances where I’ve been yelled at to “Slow down!” Even a standing cop at the oceanfront decides to inform me “you just ran a red light!” as I steadily drive through the stoplight when it turns from yellow to red. It has to be the cosmic force of the collective organism called traffic enforcing the laws to protect its blood cells.

It’s late. It’s past 10 p.m. Now it’s almost 11. Good lord. Get me out of here!

Finally back home. The whole gang is gathered in the dining room chitchatting and engaging in nonsensical humor. Of the group, Kristin is here too.


Tofu with Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce. Mickey’s.


At some point Kristin shows me these sexually derived texts a guy sent her throughout the day. I know she’s not necessarily showing me to make me jealous but according to her she was showing me because she was kind of uncomfortable about them. I make light of it and profess out loud, “I know what you’re doing! I’m not playing this jealousy game!”

Darren chimes in, “Do you see his shirt right now? It never turns green.”

I happen to be wearing a plain mustard yellow t-shirt.

Me: “Yeah! That’s right babe! This is yellow. It’s always bright and sunny!”

The sarcastic hostility is too much for all of us. Bursts of laughter and hoot and holler fill the air.

Midnight strikes. It’s Kevin’s birthday. There’s yelling and singing.

Everyone wants to go to Rick’s Café. Kristin and I retreat upstairs to my room and have a personal meeting that turns into me offering physical pleasure. But I’m not horny for some reason. There’s a disappointment on her end. But I don’t know how to explain myself. She’s dying for sexual healing and I can’t satisfy. I feel bad. What is wrong with me?


We start talking about the deeper side of things and work through an understanding...

Me: “You have a deep well inside you. And I stand there looking over down inside deciding whether or not I should dip my bucket into it.”


She’s animated in her expression.

Her: “I have deep feelings for you.”


Me: “I like you. I do. I’m just not ready.”


More and more clarification is needed. More and more explanation.


Everything hits her in a fit of anger and rebellion.

Her: “I’m sick. This whole thing makes me sick.”


She storms out the door leaving in protest of everything. I take a deep breath and think for a minute. What is going on? Why is this happening? Do I really make people crazy? I notice her phone is still sitting on the desk. I grab it and follow the distance out front where I find her standing with big black baby eyes and a black streak on her cheek where tears have fallen. I prop myself on the cinder block and observe the thunder and lightening flash in an appropriate picturesque scene behind her glowing forlorn face. Spooky. The only way she likes it. She lives for this. I’ll admit there is a beauty in it. But it’s not necessarily a becoming moment either. I make mention how odd and fitting it is that most every time we’ve hung out a storm has loomed in the air. There’s something coincidental and enchanting about it.


A rainfall begins. I grab an umbrella and open it up. I approach and wrap my arm around her wanting body. Her head gratefully rests on my chest. I protect us from the dreadful weather around us.

Me: “Remember that scene in Moonrise Kingdom when they were standing at the top of the church and they almost jumped and there was lightning?”

I feel her head nod in agreement.

Me: “That’s what this feels like.”


After we’re done experiencing our little movie-like moment we head inside. Social antics and celebration still going on in the dining room. I venture into my bedroom and reflect. Kristin doesn’t follow. After a while I decide to go look for her. She’s upset and ready to leave after standing alone in the kitchen for whatever reason. We walk to her car and continue to debate. Everything that we’re talking about is unsettling and uncomfortable. In regards to how our ideal relationships form there’s a conflict. I move very slow...very carefully. She moves fast and without inhibition.

Me: “We come from different histories, Kristin. We come from different jungles.”


Her: “Why do we keep fighting?”

Me: “For establishment. We’re fighting for establishment.”


After all is said and done she would rather be here with me than go back to Norfolk and feel depressed. So we settle down in my room – getting ready for bed. It’s much nicer and brighter now – cracking jokes and laughing about silly things.

I read out loud to her the stormy moment I wrote about earlier. She starts laughing hysterically...

Me: “How are you laughing at yourself? It’s not a laughing matter!”


Bedtime. 4 a.m.

[i] Leonid Meteor Shower.
[ii] All other images by me.

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