Tuesday July 17 2012


☼ ○ ▬

With Rusty and a female friend of ours. We’re about to go play some kind of game out in the driveway. Passing by this little field I notice a shiny nickel lying on the edge of the grass. I bend down to pick it up and notice another one maybe twelve inches away. I continue in this manner and realize there’s a whole trail of nickels and sometimes quarters leading to what I understand to be a treasure spot with something special buried underground. Someone set this up for kicks in hopes another person would follow along. I’ve become that person.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up late in the afternoon. It’s 1:47 p.m.

Apricots and a Plum.


Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Tortilla Chips with Fresh Guacamole. Honey Green Tea.


Watching 44 inch Chest (2009).

I choose to live my life without entanglements, without turmoil. Your capacity to love leaves you vulnerable. Now you should be proud of that.

Anthony and I corral a group for basketball at sunset on the courts by Rick’s Café. Anthony and I roll up blaring Tupac’s “That’s the Way It Is” on the stereo. It’s Skippy and James Graves versus Anthony and I. The sweat waterfalls pour off our bodies. Some of us sport jerseys picked up from the thrift store that say Lady Hustlers. A competitive match for sure, ending with a 10 to 9 win for my team.


Meeting up at the thrift store where Elliott is about to get off. We wait around outside, Anthony, Skippy, and I. Entertaining ourselves with a water pump gun...


We grab Elliott and head to the basketball hoop in Latitudes behind the Target. It’s dark now but Skippy’s headlights serve as good lighting. Another two-on-two game, this time with Elliott. 10 to 7 win for Skippy and I. Elliott pulls out this new invention of his that includes two skateboards attached to a skin board. He demonstrates and allows me to ride it.

Back at the house.

Barbecue Garlic Salmon with Broccoli, Mushrooms, Onions, and Rice.

The whole LIVE crew is back together again. Things are rowdy and chaotic. Running up and down the stairs. Most of the guy’s shirts come off, including mine. The antics against Kevin ensue. He’s our clown. A box full of onions being thrown everywhere – acrylic paint used as a senseless prank. Some would call the way we act monkey-like and immature. But there’s a degree of stability amongst the ruckus and rambunctious behavior, an animalistic link that binds us all together. We’re brothers and sisters. I may not have as much angst as the others but I can document it and live through it. 

While settling down in my computer chair reading and writing I hear a loud bang come from the hallway. I open the door at the same time Darren does. The carpet is soaked from tossed water balloons. It’s after 3 a.m. and I made clear to the hooligans downstairs to lay low because the rest of the house was trying to sleep. Obviously that wasn’t clear enough. The culprits already darted out the front door and scrammed. But I go on an angry rant to Anthony and Tristan who had nothing to do with the recent incident. Anthony and I continue a cool headed reflection in the kitchen about tonight on how a precedent has already been set that opens the floor for people of this manner to think it’s okay to behave like so.


Later Anthony sends me an email as an after thought. He always has a way with words and knows how to describe exactly what I see in my head...

...In every other corner of their lives they see the walls of "adulthood" closing in and on the days when those walls don't look depressing, they can look downright hellish. There is a frustration, an uncertainty and an angst drowning so much of their beings in a muddled grey.  Their actions, this destruction, is their last little spot of rebellion sunshine. It pulses through their veins and proves to them that they're still alive and can control some aspect of the fight. Plus sometimes you just want to fuck shit up. You know the feeling. I know you do because I've been there with you when you've just wanted to destroy things...

My late night thoughts in bed are littered with deprivation and wanting. I think about my former lovers, especially Margot. But I wouldn’t dare reach out to her. That would be detrimental. I’m doing just fine on my own. Let me continue down this path of emotional independence.

Sleep shortly after 5 a.m.

[i] All images by me.

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