Wednesday July 4 2012


☼ ○ ▬

I make my way into a portable building. Exploring underneath the grassy narrow hallways. Finding a collection of old pictures and knick-knacks that I threw out years ago (three yellow toy pianos, a Barney picture with graffiti on it). Why would they be here? What a coincidence I would come across them at this time in this place. I hear strangers around the corner, kids with skateboards making use of the hallways for tricks. I gather my things I want to keep. It would be a shame to just leave them here. I step outside and leave.    

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up just before 1 p.m.

White Apricot. Banana. Orange Juice.

Elliott texts me about an Independence Day get-together at his house. I ask him about inviting other people.

Him: “Yeah sure. Keep it smallz though. Too many people. It gets complicated.”

Me: “that’s true for anything.”

Chatting with Emily on the phone over her recent break-up with Wesley.

Scrambled Eggs. Tortilla Chips with Fresh Guacamole. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Undocumented (2010).




The other day there was a rather unsettling conclusion between Kristin and I through messages on Facebook. I’m just lost as to what’s going on. I feel not as connected anymore. But I think it’s for the better, on my end and her end.

It’s almost 9 p.m. and the oceanfront is brewing with the patriot masses. I hop on my bike and ride to Elliott’s house on 16th street where he’s invited everyone we know. Driving a car at this hour would surely be a death sentence. I arrive in the driveway. Beers and Hard Lemonades in the cooler. Lawn chairs spread out. As predicted Elliott built a mini-rocket to launch. It is short-lived but exciting.

Some kid named Lee brought a bottle of whiskey. I take a few swigs. Snacking on a Veggie Burger. It’s a perfect summer night for Independence Day. The fireworks start. We migrate to the third floor porch and observe. Appropriately we chime into a Star-Spangled Banner chant – singing as loud and obnoxiously as we can.  

Moving the beach. Some dive into the ocean. Some of us stay behind on the sand. It’s strange how lively the beach becomes after 1 a.m. A lot of other people have the same idea. I mean the sun could be out and everything would look normal. Beach nights are more desirable anyway. Talking with Joey DiNardo on the lifeguard stand. I haven’t seen him since the 1623 days really.

Me: “It feels good to be where I’m at right now...literally. I feel independent, Joey.”  

The night dwindles and I hop back on my bike. Margot hit me up earlier so I decide to drop by her place and say hi. Before we get a few sentences in her roommate Emily barges out of her bedroom belligerent drunk and paranoid. Margot is needed by her, so I leave and finish the trek home.

Leftover Spaghetti.

Relaxing with a movie.

Sleep pretty late after 4 a.m.

[i] All images by me.

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