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[i]☼ ○ ▬
With friends longboarding down a street hill where there
happens to be high traffic. I wait for a clear and take my shot. Calum follows
behind me. I see a teal-colored truck turn the corner.
“Car!” I warn.
Construction. Dodging the orange cones. I swerve in such a
way that I’m forced to nip the truck coming at me. I don’t topple over but
continue on my way faster and faster down the hill. I turn left and into a
neighborhood. Walking back up I find out Calum also hit a car. Or it seems he’s
taking the wrap for me when he tells his story and owes over $3,000 to the
driver of the teal-colored truck.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up at 11:15 a.m.
Two Plumcots.
All day shift at China Wok.
It’s extremely slow at work. Most people are cooking out and
doing their own thing on Labor Day.
Organizing music on iTunes.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Lemonade.
Anthony texts me a quote for the day...
“Your own mind, the mind of the universe, your neighbor’s
mind – be prompt to explore them all. Your own, so that you may shape it to
justice; the universe’s, that you may recollect what it is you are a part of;
your neighbor’s, that you may understand whether it is informed by ignorance or
knowledge, and also may recognize that it is kin to your own.” – Marcus
Aurelius
Coconut Water.
Delivering an order to a lady on Vintage Court. I used to
bring her food all the time. She’s the nicest lady, her and her husband.
Me: “Wow. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Her: “Well, Robert. My husband died so I haven’t been
ordering.”
Me: “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.”
Her: “It’s okay I have my friend here with me.”
We make the transaction and I leave.
Me: “Alright. Well I hope to see you again.”
Wow. I’m really sad right now. I can’t imagine what
that feels like...to lose your life partner. I’m sure they were prepared in
some way considering their age but it’s still a disruptive life experience.
Cadbury Milk Chocolate.
Tips have been blasé shitty but every now and then along
come a few select generous ones.
Delivering an order to Fleming Circle, former ground zero of
the jet crash that happened months ago. I remember this customer. He’s super
nice and always gives me at least a $5 tip. Last time I recall two 20-something
gays sitting on his couch and we cracked jokes about the crash. This time he’s
alone. He asks me, “So what time do you get off of work?”
Me: “Oh usually 10:30.”
Him: “What are you gonna do?”
Me: “Have a good meal, watch a movie...you know, veg out.”
We make the exchange. He pauses to say something, or at
least it looks like it.
“What?” I inquire.
He thinks for a few more seconds allowing a slightly awkward
silence and then says, “Nevermind.”
Me: “Alright. I appreciate it.”
As I’m driving away I put to thought what he might’ve
actually been trying to do, which was to invite me to hang out after work. Was
this 40-something year old man making a pass at me? Who knows. Maybe he
sensed my heterosexuality and changed his mind; I don’t know. That little bit
of silence we shared was kind of strange.
Finally off work.
Chomping down my dinner while I drive to Aysena’s house:
Vegetable Pancit Noodles with Almonds and a Raspberry Shock Top Beer.
...
Up in her bedroom. Uploading more music onto her iPod. I
compiled playlists appropriate for particular settings. One when she goes
running: ╬ Run Run Run ╬. One when she’s lying on the bed: Ω Romanticism Ω. And
one for lovemaking: ♀ Sex Lounge ♂.
...
She reveals a t-shirt she made for me using cartoonish
iron-on graphics. It displays in a cryptic styling, “I HAD BLACK COMEDY WIZ
ICE”, an inside joke only her and I can understand.
Me: “Ha-ha-ha. Oh man, this is too cool. Thanks. I love
this.”
Before I came over she requested I bring the mustard t-shirt
I wear that has a hole on the right sleeve.
Me: “Why did I bring this to give to you?”
Her: “So I can throw it away!”
Me: “Ha-ha! What?”
Her: “Yes! It’s stressful color.”
...
I wonder sometimes, if both of us could speak to each other
fluently in one language, would I still see her from the same perspective?
Would she be the same person to me? Certain qualities to her personality have
to be hidden right now. I noticed this as I watch her talk on the phone with
one of her best friends in Russian. Her native language brings out her natural
attitude.
...
I half confess/realize something about myself to her,
“Sometimes I think I’m too passionate...like I put too much heart into things.
Sometimes I wish I wasn’t. It’d be easier to walk away from things.”
...
I stand to leave and gaze at her lying on the bed, “You’re
just a girl...just girl in the world.”
...
Her: “Do you remember when we first kissed?”
Me: “Of course.”
Standing up in the room, we reenact the scene to which she
remembers the minor details: my nervous reluctance at first, then accepting the
gesture.
Back home.
Ays texts me, “Good night sweeety lots of kisses LOOOOTS
till the sky.. Im listening romantic playlist.”
Me: “mmmm. yes lots of kisses. I feel them. you are sweeeet.
sweeter than mochi ice cream.”
Poker on my phone.
Sleep 4 a.m.
[i] T-shirt by
Aysena.
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