Thursday October 4 2012


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!”


Cherry Pomegranate Toaster Pastry. Orange Juice.


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

Watching Monument Ave. (1998).


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.


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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