Wednesday July 11 2012


☼ ○ ▬

I’ve returned to what’s understood to be my neighborhood but looks extremely different. I find a long stretch of people lined up against the wall leading to an open garage. They’re here for Show N Tell and it’s already begun without me. I clamor up to the microphone and welcome everyone and apologize for being tardy. A familiar looking dude starts banging on the snare drum in a fast pace. Josiah jams on the electric guitar. And I’m supposed to makeshift song and lyric.

Josiah yells out to me, “It’s Oi!”

I do my best to fit the genre.

The song stops and I talk to the snare dude, “I remember you from the store. You checked me out.”

I leave the garage and pass by the line of Show N Tellers, hi-fiving some, hugging others. I step inside my house, which happens to be a five-story apartment. Walking up the stairs passing more partiers. I finally make it to the top floor and into my bedroom to find two black lesbians doing sexual things in my bed, more specifically 69ing. 

I contest, “What in the world are you guys doing in my bed? This is my room! I sleep there!”

I was ready to accept the scene and continue doing what I came to do here but I can’t remember what it was. Suddenly, Emily Hill is here doing her makeup. Then I realize none of this stuff is mine and that’s not my bed. Now I feel more distressed than before.

Me: “Emily, what’s going on here? This is supposed to be my room!”

She doesn’t seem phased by anything. It’s understood her and the rest of the house made a unanimous decision that I should move out and not tell me about it. It’s also understood that Emily just recently moved back in this house.

Me: “You think you can just leave for years and then move back in here and then kick me out??? No! No!”

She continues with her makeup. I check the nearby bedrooms to see if they moved me into another room or something, but no.

Me: “Who do you think you are? I had to listen to all your Wesley shit earlier and be your friend and this is what I get in return?”

She steps over to the mirror and fixes her hair into a bun. She’s not being very understanding whatsoever. Meanwhile, I notice the black lesbians are still there in the bed.

In anger I pull Emily’s hair back and demand, “Where is my stuff?”

She hands me a yellow post-it note with specific directions that lead to a small closet in the basement.

Me: “This is ridiculous!”

We fall backward but still standing. I see in her eyes that she’s becoming impatient with this rant. She swings a pen around and stabs me in the side of my stomach. It doesn’t hurt but definitely punctures my skin. I wrap my arms around her and start to cry. I lean my head on her shoulder and whimper. Feeling like I have no control and no sympathy.

Me: “Why did you do this to me?”

Breathing heavily. No more anger. Just vying for empathy...for love.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 1 p.m.

Figs. Apricots. Orange Juice.

Biking to the shop to talk with my mechanic about my car and about fixing the AC.

Double Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea.

Watching Black Hawk Down (2001).

Quick visit to the nail place in Hilltop where Stephanie is to pick up a few prized possessions in her car from the Richmond trip. She snaps a photo of me standing there.


Dropping off some stuff at the storage unit then heading to Norfolk for a pre-meditated hang out with Kristin. She just moved into a new place on Colley.


Stuffing down some Watermelon on the way.


I arrive. It feels good to be seeing her. We always have such a fun time in our interaction. In awe at the strangeness of the single room studio apartment. Girl, Interrupted (1999) playing on her small flat screen but muted with subtitles. And her iPod shuffling through songs in the background giving the impression of a music video.

Me: “This place kind of reminds me of Relative Theory [the old record shop on Granby].”


Sharing a dinner she put together in her little mini kitchen: Chic Pea Avocado Quinoa with Sautéed Zucchini and Squash.

She adores her precious Ice Bat pillow.


We walk on over to Fairgrounds. I order a Coffee with a delicious Vegan Cinnamon Bun. Finding a spot out on the front porch. A few chatty college kids nearby. A nice breeze brushing by our faces. I discuss my birthday depression dilemma...  

Me: “It’s such a pivotal day of the year like people make it this big deal. I’m turning 28 this year. Why am I not married? Why am I not...There’s a lot of why questions I ask myself. Birthdays are just reminders to me of how unaccomplished I am.”

Her: “You know why you feel that way.”

Me: “Why do I feel that way?”

Her: “Your time is consumed with creative things that you want to do and what society wants you to do. You are conflicted with two lifestyles.”


Me: “You feel like you’ve learned anything from me personally? Or am I just like an oddball creature to you?”

Her: “Well, you’re an oddball creature but sure I mean I take bits and pieces from everyone.”


Her: “I just have these standards for myself. I feel like it’s always me going through this battle in my head you know? Like it’s like, you’re challenging me. No I’m not challenging you, Kristin. You’re playing fucking games with me. You’re probably not playing games with me. I see things in this lens of me against the world.”

Me: “Most people kind of think that way though.”

The train whistle blows in the distant. She reaches out to the leaf of a nearby plant growing through the opening in the patio fencing.

Her: “I just want to be close to plants. Plants are my friends. They’re so comforting. They’re like green. They’re alive. They’re breathing. My plants depend on me.”

Me: “Haha.”


Back at her apartment. Lying on her bed. I have no expectations or any pre-meditated sexual intentions. But the mood is right and both of us individually have been deprived. The sexy industrial sounds of How to Destroy Angels, a side project of Trent Reznor’s, providing the soundtrack and inspiring the rhythm to our sexual desires. There’s no reason not to engage.

Ø ♂ Ø × Ø ♀ Ø × Ø ♂ Ø × Ø ♀ Ø

Me: “We just had sex through that entire album.”


Referring to the constant wetness she has, “You are like a waterfall down there.”

Her: “What’s wrong with that?”

I start laughing, “Nothing at all.”

Her: “I told you I don’t need lubricant.”

Me: “Someone needs to build a dam.”



Me: “Your after-sex behavior is pretty rambunctious. Were you trying to have sex with me tonight? Were you planning on that?”

Her: “No.”

Me: “That was a nice surprise. I have been sexually frustrated lately.”

Her: “Well why don’t you do something about it?”

Me: “I did.”

Her: “Anytime you want to approach me about sex you should probably do it because I’m probably ready.”

Me: “Haha. Say that again.”


We walk over to Emily’s apartment and chill with her and Doug in the kitchen. Ambrotious prancing around our legs. Discussing Katy Perry and Wes Anderson films.


I walk her back to the apartment. I mention how it’s after 1 a.m.

She makes fun of me, “Wait, it’s past your blog reflection time!”


Her: “I need someone rational to rationally talk to me about these irrational thoughts I have!”

Driving back to the beach.

At home. I’m terribly hungry from the caffeine. Popcorn, Beer, and Chocolate will satiate me.

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

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

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