Saturday October 6 2012


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A two-car caravan putt-ing along down a neighborhood street at night. I’m controlling the second car. A woman comes out of her house as if she’s expecting us and escorts us to her driveway. We had been looking for a place to sleep for the night and I guess this lady saw us driving slowly and just thought we needed something. She shacks us up. But my comrade and I are planned to perform a show downstairs, which faintly resembles my dining room. We're set up as a duo and start playing loud aggressive pop rock music. No one showed up so we have no audience. The particular song we're playing is new and I don’t know the words so I sing gibberish. I’m impressed with the melodies that we come up with.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:10 a.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Sitting in one of those stiff pink chairs during the down time and starting another novel: The Catcher in the Rye. I don’t know how this book slipped out of my reading list. For most it was part of their high school curriculum. I find myself, anytime I read a book, wearing the eyes and having the mind of the main character. It’s natural I guess to associate your imagination with reality in such a way you become an actor taking on various roles, like testing which ones best suit who you are. Identity.

Two Hard-Boiled Eggs.

Outside it’s just another shocking hot day in October.

While walking across the street to Five Guys to get my weekly serving of French Fries for lunch, I spot Margot’s car. She drives right past me in the median. I gesture my hand and point in a nonchalant way as she goes by, both sharing a casual acknowledgment. Later I get lost in thought thinking about the redundancy of relationships, how everything always feels so fresh and new and exciting and unique within the first few months of seeing someone romantically. But then after a while you get comfortable and reality sets in. You open your eyes from the dream and are reminded that it’s the same old story. Re-run after re-run. It’s a depressing moment of truth. Does it ever change? Is my life just a collection of steamy romance novels piling up on the shelf?  

Ahhh...yes. These fries reach deep into my hungry soul. Washing them down with Honey Oolong Tea.

Reading. Reading. Reading.

Drinking OJ like there’s no tomorrow. I’m exceptionally thirsty today.

The day turns into night. The orders pick up and so do the tips.

Learning Russian while driving around from a collection of Pimsleur mp3s I downloaded.

Fried Shrimp with Carrots, Peppers, Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Off work.

As soon as I walk in the house I find Darren standing on one of our stools.

Me: “What? What is this? What’s going on?”

Anthony: “He’s doing a jig!”


Time to release some steam. Anthony, Leslie, and I venture to The Friend’s School. Rope swing and basketball hoops.


Leslie explores the grounds and gathers vine in attempt to create the resemblance of a giraffe while Anthony and I shoot around on the courts.


Suddenly we hear a bang sound ricochet in the distance.

Me: “Whoa. Did you hear that? It was from Chanticleer.”

Anthony: “Darren and Kevin finally had it out.”


Back at the house. Darren and Kevin got drunk at The Office and we find them bumbling around like normal. Glad to see they’re still alive. They all go to Rick’s and I stay behind.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Anthony, Leslie, Darren, and Kevin get back from Rick’s Café. Darren’s still really drunk and tripped over his own shoe earlier; the sole of his shoe came apart. He shows me the big open gash on his knee. All of us gathered in the living room. I get trapped in a black hole of fun that involves a little boy on Youtube impersonating the DC Talk song, “Nu Thang”, amongst other laughable videos. I pull up my pajama pants high up past my waist and dance like the boy on TV. Hours of entertainment. Time flies by. I can’t believe how late it is. 4:30 a.m. I’ve gotta get to bed. 

[i] Michael Clancy. Still from “Nu Thang”.

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