Thursday September 20 2012


Waking up just before 2 p.m.

Banana. Orange Juice.

Official Business Mode.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Oolong Tea.

Learning Russian.

Relearning bass lines for Musicplayer songs.

Tilapia with Onions, Peppers, Mushrooms, and Quinoa.

It’s poker night, at Art’s apartment this time. Players: Becca, Will, James, Darren, Art, and myself. The stakes are higher this time. $5 buy-ins rather than $2 buy-ins.
I brought a Chocolate Yellow Cake to share.


James: “It’s a good queen game.”

Will: “Metaphorically and physically.”

Out of left field Darren spouts out, “Your mom’s a queen game metaphorically.”

Sarcastically Will replies, “Your jokes are so sick.”


Me: “They really are!”

Will: “I need some ointment for the sick burn you just layed on me.”


Art jokingly remarks to James, “You lost all your blacks?”

Darren: “Now you know how the south feels.”

Art: “He got all the Latinos.”

Darren: “Daaaaamn! Art coming in with the casual racism.”


The game goes on for at least two hours but it’s expected. Darren’s boisterous outbursts and constant heckling creates a stressful environment but this is also expected. His intention is all fun and a jester of our court. But sometimes he gets to me. I play it off with sarcasm but deep inside I just can’t connect with his meaningless banter. Of course this mostly comes out in group settings. When it’s one-on-one we’re able to dig through life’s inconsistencies together in a civil way.


It dwindles down to Will and I. We stop there because the game might continue for another hour. I have more chips so he settles on second place and I on first.

Back home.

Cleaning out the big freezer.

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Jing Zhang.

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