Tuesday September 4 2012


☼ ○ ▬

I’ve been accused of a murder along with two other friends. We honestly had nothing to do with the killing, but a bounty hunter has been hired to kill us in return. It’s a set up. The three of us are cornered atop this pier/patio structure. The bounty hunter, who happens to be much stronger and better built, presses forward slowly.

Me: “Look man, you don’t have to kill us.”

But there’s no stopping this man. He’s full of determination and a one-track mind. I consider jumping off but the pier is high enough that if I did I wouldn’t survive the fall.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 12:30 p.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).

There’s an on going communication between Aysena and I through messages on Vkontakte, a sort of Russian Facebook. She says to me, “ты мне нравишься с каждым днем все больше и больше, и это опасно. мне страшно.” Translated means, “I like you every day more and more, and it is dangerous. I'm scared.”

I respond, “yes i know. im scared about it too. but dont be scared of love. принять его [embrace it]. its what we were created for. you will leave and time will pass and make it easier. and then another day in the future we will see each other and it will be alright.”

Doing dishes.

Organizing music files.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Transsiberian (2008).

Working on new material on the guitar – learning a few oldies covers and a Ryan Adams song.

There’s a cryptic underlining in the threads of communication when we are apart that is hard to interpret. Every now and then I’m offered a clear heartfelt piece of a confession that convinces me your heart is true. I revel in this slow cooking mystery soup that I know will eventually come to a boil and reveal its love aromas and velvet flavors.

Salmon with Broccoli, Onions, Mushrooms, Green Peppers, and Quinoa.

Downstairs, a few people gathered in the living room. Tyler Davis donated a bag full of video goodies including a tape of over-dubbed Chinese slapstick humor called Mad Little Guy from 1982.

Cadbury Milk Chocolate.


A music jam fires up in the dining room. Just another youthful night at 1435.

Basketball games at the Friend’s School courts, first one of the season since they installed the hoops back in, which they do during the off season when kids aren’t in school. But the 1435 school is back in session! It’s a four-on-four game. Hood Rats (Rusty, John, Tyler, and myself) versus Skins (Anthony, Tristan, Elliott, and Clinton). It’s a harsh amateur acrobatic game chock full of ridiculous moments fumbling for the ball. Tristan gets slammed into the fence by monkey man Rusty. It’s almost like a dream where nothing goes right; you can’t get your hands on the ball properly; no control over anything. I find myself hollering out loud like a coach to my teammates as if they were Peewee players in the movie Little Giants.

“Where my shirts at?!”

“Watch the rebounds!”

“Stay on him like glue!”

“Stay in the paint!”

“Go for the go!” or loosely translated, “Go for the goal!”

This is a comedy game. Nothing serious. I can’t stop laughing at all the going-ballistic moments.

Playing guitar in my room some more – learning more songs.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Watching Transsiberian (2008).

Sleep sometime after 4 a.m.

[i] Purple Nights. Jeff Shaw.

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