Sunday August 12 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Seated at a table. Across from the table are two acquaintances of mine. I start spouting out some existentialist revelation...

Me: “You know when you’re sitting in your the dark. Do you ever have apocalyptic thoughts, asking yourself questions like when is the world going to end? You feel your mind. It’s like your tapped into this sense of doom. I do it all the time.”

My new friends raise their eyebrows as if they have no idea what I’m talking about. Suddenly I realize the reason they do not understand this concept. 

Me: “Oh my gosh. You guys are wearing veils! Veils! I mean I am too I suppose. But goodness, free yourself. Open up your eyes!”

▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬

With Elliott, Wesley, and Emily. Taking an elevator to an obscure floor where a refined hole-in-the-wall restaurant is. I talk with the host, of Indian descent. I ask him how much the buffet costs. He doesn’t seem to understand so I write down my guesses on a napkin. 18? 28? He looks at the scribble and still doesn’t give me a straight answer. He then asks, “Has somebody bought your warranty?”

Me: “No.”

Him: “Then you can’t eat here,” as if this was a private deal and a waiver was required.

Me: “Weird. I’ve never had to do that before.”

I look over at Elliott and Wesley. They already have their plates and so do I. I nibble on a chicken piece.

▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬

At China Wok – working with Darren. He’s hesitant to tell me some news relating to Margot.

Me: “Why can’t you just tell me?”

Apparently it’s in order to protect me. Somehow I get it out of him. He explains that Margot was in a serious car accident and is in the hospital. I continue my work – writing up tickets for delivery orders – but in the meantime I feel a sense of fear and dread. It all feels too real when I wake up.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:40 a.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

It’s my mom’s birthday. She sang for me on my birthday via voicemail so I return the favor with a little video performance...

It rains once again for a few hours. This is becoming a daily occurrence. I feel like I’m in Indonesia. Laskin Road waters rising. No big deal.


Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

Snapping the peas on the down time.

Belgian Milk Chocolate.

A much less stressful day at work than yesterday.

Delivering my last order to 100 Pinewood Road, the location of the longest ongoing construction jungle in Virginia Beach. This road has been closed off for over a year now making it inconvenient for my deliveries to people living on Pinewood. You can see the condos from Laskin but a detour re-routes you around Holly Road adding at least a few more miles to the trip. It’s completely ridiculous. I refuse to obey and pull into the sandy construction site, like I’ve been doing for the past year, and dart across the narrow stretch between the inlets. The customer, a regular, seems kind of drunk and mildly delusional, maybe even a little senile, but pleasant nonetheless. I end up having to run all the way back to my car because I forgot the sodas. He thanks me and says, “Keep the Lord in your heart,” then offers a pound of the fists.

Back home.

Tofu with Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce. Mission St. Blonde Ale.

Watching Rounders (1998).

Earlier I reached out to Margot to tell her about the dream I had with her being in a car accident, and also just to double check and make sure it didn’t actually happen. Nothing of the like happened she assures. All of a sudden I get a text from her unrelated to it...

Her: “Look plz don’t hit me up anymore. You got your life going on and I got mine. It would be easier if you do your own thing and I do mine.”

What? Margot with a logical mind? Oh she’s obviously got some distraction already. I feel kind of rejected now...not that I care as much but who wouldn’t feel as such after being denied communication. I guess it’s whatever. I try to disregard the text message cause I know I’ll let it go eventually. I mean this is what I was fighting for...a mutual agreement where we both want what’s best for each other. But I can’t get these cold words to leave me.  

After an hour she says something else, “I’m sorry if that sounds mean. You know I love you but this can’t keep happening.”

This can’t keep happening? I don’t understand. You’re the one that keeps dramatically hitting me up after your fallouts with dumb boys. You keep this happening. Don’t go reprimanding me for keeping in casual touch with you. I speak my mind and end everything with, “be strong, margot.”


And that’s that I guess. I feel sick but also healthy, like God just took his mighty hand and snipped off all the thorns in my side. It hurts but I’m on a healing path to brighter futures.

I fall asleep with a heavy heart and mind at 3:30 a.m.

[i] The Quiet Earth movie poster.
[ii] Flooded Laskin. Image by me.

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