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[i]Waking up around 1:30 p.m.
Skype chat with Aysena. My day is just beginning and hers is
about to end (in Moscow). It’s always pleasant to see her face.
...
She brings up the topic of New York and me having to leave
her there for three days. She’s still sad about it.
Her: “I always think about this.”
I pick up a little plastic parachute man sitting on my desk
and describe to her a metaphor.
Me: “This is me, Ays. You see? I’ve got a parachute. I’m
flying. And jump out of the plane. And I’m falling and falling. Then I try to
release the parachute but it doesn’t work. So I keep falling and falling. It’s
all I can do. And then...SPLAT! I hit the ground and die.”
She snickers and asks, “What does it mean?”
Me: “It’s a metaphor. You see, somebody made the parachute
but made a mistake. It was an accident out of my control.”
Darren overhears the conversation out in the hallway and
shouts, “God forbid you don’t have a working parachute!”
[Ha-ha-ha]
Cherry Pomegranate Toaster Pastry. Orange Juice.
Groceries.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Salt n Vinegar Chips.
Honey Green Tea.
Watching Monument Ave. (1998).
Chores.
Shooting some hoops on the Friend’s School courts.
At the house. Cooking dinner with Darren.
Salmon with Onions, String Beans, Mushrooms, Carrots, and
Rice. A bottle of Smithwick’s.
[ii]
Leslie, originally a friend of Anthony’s, is here. It’s been
about a year since she’s been seen here. Naturally a doodle monster she
concocts a busy street art themed picture with markers while Rachel goes on a
monologue of sorts about her Hobo Taco party and nipple piercings. I draw my
own marker picture while Darren recounts the time when he worked at Applebee’s
and was forced to witness karaoke nights.
Darren: “Do you ever get scared when you’re all by
yourself?”
Me: “Never. I feel really safe.”
Just outside the front door. The still chill nighttime air
beckons. Getting into an unplanned stimulating conversation with Leslie –
sharing snippets of our life stories and psychoanalyzing relational behavior
patterns. Anthony scored a sunflower earlier and planted it out front. We come
up with a name for him (cause it feels like a him): Harold.
Leslie: “I just wanna be outside all the time. Everyday I
spend some time contemplating how it is I can sleep outside every night.”
...
Leslie: “Girls are mother-fucking crazy. I will say that.
I’m there. Females and their way of thinking...totally nuts. I’ve had to train
myself to be a rational human being. That’s something I actively think about
and work on.”
Cinnamon Rolls with Milk.
Sleep 4:30 a.m.
[i] Marker art
by Leslie.
[ii] All other
images and marker art by me.
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