Friday November 30 2012


Waking up at 1:40 p.m.

Ezekiel 4:9 Cinnamon Raisin Bread. Coffee with Milk and Sugar.

Playing with Kevin. He attempts to break into my room and lock himself in with me on the outside. His plan was to post an embarrassing Facebook status on my computer, as he’s tried and succeeded before. Fortunately for me I prepared for this and snag the spare key behind the EXIT sign on the wall in the hallway. His mission failed.

Making a lentil spread from scratch – roasting it in the oven with carrots, onions, mushrooms, garlic, cumin, and olive oil.

Lentil Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Orange Juice.

Sorting out things at the storage unit – experiencing desktop computer problems.


Back home. Getting frustrated that my plans to record didn’t work out. I feel helpless sometimes...these obstacles that deter me from accomplishing my goals.

Cod Fillets with Rice and Cabbage Sprout Salad.

Watching Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007).

Minnie stops by soon before Darren arrives home from work. Sharing Chocolate Chips Cookies with Milk and conversation.

Darren: “I love radio. If I was ruler of the world I would be like, no more T.V. Radio. It would just be radio. I think I would show movies but no television.”


Darren: “I just think that America, in the last like 30 years, there’s so little culture. Everyone is just clinging to what they see on the television and its become so intense that a person’s preferences are no longer some like rudimentary thing. What a person likes has become their total fucking identity. What a person believes is no longer something that can mold or change or be reasoned with. A person’s belief system is their whole socialization and identity.”


Talking about how there’re no fat mermaids.

Darren: “If you had a fat mermaid...are you serious? I would be pissed. If I was Odysseus and I rolled up on these sirens and they had a fat chick with them I would be done. I would be so mad! I would be like, Are you kidding me? I went on an odyssey for this? I’d be so angry!”   

Alone again. Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Castles of Forrestry.

Thursday November 29 2012


☼ ○ ▬

I’m locked in a time continuum inside four shifting rooms representing four different time zones. I’m explaining to a race of tiny people (like in Gulliver’s Travels) about the coming future of popular music genres. I reveal that in the first period post-pop-progressive sounds will be popular. In the second period, it will be post-emo-pop. The third, electronica-pop. And in the last days, tribal hop-hop will take its reign. 

▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬

Inside a house with Aysena and a few of her family members, maybe sisters. Danger with guns. I take the leadership role of the situation and make sure everyone’s safe. At some point I’ve ventured upstairs where I discover a Thai restaurant. Even though I’m not interested in eating anything I grab a menu from the counter to appease the dark-skinned man waiting to serve me. I look over the balcony to find that Aysena’s former boyfriend has arrived and will be staying here overnight. The whole situation between them is foggy to me. I thought the relationship was over but he doesn’t seem to act like it. They walk upstairs and sit down next to me. The boy, whose name is understood to be Michael Wise for some reason, accidently bumps into me.

Me: “Hey man! Watch it.”

He doesn’t apologize but instead mutters something rude.

Me: “Excuse me? What did you say?”

His attitude is hostile. I feel uncomfortable and I can’t understand why Ays isn’t doing anything about it.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 2 p.m. on the dot.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.


Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Sweet Green Tea.

Watching Bernie (2011).

I got invited to Leslie’s house. She lives with her stepmother and father who’s been successful as a dentist for some odd 30 years and therefore owns a fancy house out in Little Neck. As I’m given a tour it’s revealed her dad has an affinity with the color purple. I’m not used to being inside such extravagant living quarters. I recall when I was a boy living down the street in a big house like this with my mom, but only for a brief time. As well we had rented out rooms. Leslie continues showing me through the halls – select artwork hung on the walls, some of her composition.


I notice two stainless steel salt n pepper shakers. I pick up the salt container and press the button at the top. It automatically grinds the salt crystals and distributes them at the bottom along with a convenient light that shines upon where they land.

Leslie: “These are the most important things that is in our house.”

Me: “That’s a big statement.”

Leslie: “Oh no. Because in case of an emergency they’re flashlights.”

Me: “What? So when you wanna use it as a flashlight you have to get salt constantly coming out of it.”

Reid (her brother): “Also if you run out of batteries you have a trail to come back.” 


In her bedroom. The Shins lightly playing on her Mac. She leaves to help her brother with some physics homework while I’m left to explore her bookshelves. Sitting down and looking through her personal art scrapbook, a collection of doodles and poetic excerpts in mostly chronological order from a child to the present day. As I’m flipping through all the sporadic images and words I experience a mini overwhelming moment – thinking about all the beautiful people I know and the richness that each one of them bears, and specifically in this city. And there are probably more vibrant souls that I haven’t even met yet. But here I am sitting in this room inside this big house within this neighborhood in this one of a kind city a part of this unique country on this vast planet...learning about one soul in particular.


She returns and asks, “Did you find anything interesting?”

Me: “Oh yeah.”

She notices I’m holding her art scrapbook and says, “That’s my life book.”


Leslie: “Another thing is that I play games with myself, like I try really hard to just be okay all the time and I find myself doing things that contradict what I should be doing for myself.”


Downstairs hanging out in a pristine clean kitchen to which her dad is apparently OCD about keeping in order so much that he could easily walk in, notice a speck, and take the effort to wipe it up immediately. She makes fun of him for it. I’m fed delicious Salmon and Couscous leftovers.

Amidst the conversation Leslie makes aware to me, “I will hop the train to tangent town without even realizing I entered the station.” I chuckle.

Back upstairs in her room listening to her sort through memories and looking through old photos. Talking about past relationships.

Me: “I’m very passive and very accepting of others...too understanding in the sense was really hard with someone like her because she was such an aggressive, um, pursuer...and just like, she wanted control. And here I am this timid little man...who isn’t very controlling...”

Leslie: “Or doesn’t have a desire to gain control. It’s like fighting a battle that you’re not fighting back.”


Reading through a favorite book of hers that tells about strange sports you never knew existed like toe wrestling, ostrich racing, and extreme ironing.

As I walk outside to leave I notice the ice frost that’s developed on my car. It’s really that time of year. The moon is exceptionally bright and glows through my front windshield causing me to pause for a moment.

Back home.

Chocolate Chip Cookies with Milk.

Sleep 5 a.m.

[i] Marius Roosendaal.

[ii] Scrapbook by Leslie. Image by me.

Wednesday November 28 2012


Waking up at 2 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

Dropping my car off at the shop to get two new front tires. Using Kevin’s bike I ride over to the clubhouse in Linkhorn Bay to which I have a membership through Chanticleer. Running on the treadmill. While resting I chat with Aysena on VK. I sent her a picture of all the Russian girls using the machines.

She responds, “wooooow too many dolls in black. say to them privet kukolki”

Me: “haha. yeah ill say that to them. but the one on the right is cute.”

Her: “=(”

Me: “don’t worry you are much cuter, doll.”

Her: “i worry! coz you are cute and they could stole you from me”

Me: “hmf. haha. they are probably not interesting. they are probably boring girls.”

Her: “you dont know cunning russian blondy and blue eyed girls”

Me: “they have black hair. so i think its okay.”

Her: “haha. dont make me fool american boy ! )) i have super 6th feeling”

Me: “you mean 6th sense?”

Her: “exactly hehe”


Outside I witness a fighting match between two geese on the lake – they’re fierce and without any mercy. Their geese buddies cluck and cheer them on the sidelines.

Back home.

Lentil Spread Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Sweet Green Tea.

Watching Quantum of Solace (2008).

Browsing Elliott’s thrift store. He leaves two computers out back as donations for the house. Then, to Target for toilet paper and paper towels in bulk. There’s a couple in front of me in line and they seem to be having a minor disagreement on how they’re paying for their purchases. The dude is wearing a black leather jacket with a wallet chain and crew cut, a semi rough looking fellow. And the girl seems normal but a little feisty and whiny. After they move on, the girl at the register gives me a look like she’s glad they left.

“Creepy couple,” she exclaims and adds, “I’m glad I don’t have a boyfriend.” I just smile.


Elliott gets off work and we ride to Norfolk to hang out at Emily’s apartment. She’ll be moving to New York for a few months to be in an acting school and she invited select friends over. Snacking on Chips and Salsa and sipping on a beer. It’s kind of like a mini 1623 reunion, all the faces that used to frequent the former house I used to live in. Daniel White, Tyler Watts, Rocky, Joey, JP, Wes and Emily, and of course Ambrotious the cat. 

After a few hours Elliott and I leave. He accidently pokes his eye on his car’s antenna when walking around the side of it. It kind of sparks an overall irritation for him. He explains how he feels kind of disconnected from that bunch and has felt that over the past year. People grow and progress – they change. It’s a part of life as we age.

Back home.

Spaghetti with Onions, Mushrooms, Peppers, and Tomato Sauce.

Watching Haywire (2011).

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] All images by me.

Tuesday November 27 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Out in the middle of a parking lot is my car with all the windows rolled down, keys still in the ignition, and phone laying in the mid-console. Some guys are sorting through found items they’re considering to sell like bicycles, mopeds, and other misc household things. I get distracted analyzing one of the bicycles and meanwhile I notice one of the dudes sticking his hands through my car windows and pulling stuff out. I run over and confront him and find he’s rummaging through my trash bag. I get angry.

Me: “Excuse me? Look, I don’t really care if you want to have my garbage but you need to ask first! You didn’t even get my permission!”

He doesn’t seem to have any respect for me and neither does the other man. All of a sudden a gang of middle-aged people are lounging around inside my car smoking cigarettes and drinking and having a good time. I confront them in the same way. 

▬ ○ ☼

Ezekiel 4:9 Cinnamon Raisin Bread. Apple Slices. Orange Juice.

Skyping with Aysena. It’s nice to see her face on my computer screen. She’s sad about life. I try to cheer her up and eventually our conversation gets brighter and more entertaining.

Catching up on writing.

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Sweet Maui Onion Kettle Cooked Chips with Salsa and Avocado.

Watching Meeting Evil (2012).

Downstairs Tristan and James are trying to learn “GSF”, an old MxPx song – James on the concertina and Tristan on bass. I do some crunches on the floor during. Darren, upset about an on going prank war between him and Kevin, is scheming. His maniacal laughter really enhances the moment when he takes a can of herring and strategically places it in discreet spots around Kevin’s room. I try to dissuade him in escalating this mini-war of theirs but he claims he must show who’s the best.

Me: “It’s just a power game. You obviously didn’t learn anything from history.”

Sipping on Coffee and continuing this day of writing.

A big, big Salad with an Egg. Then stuffing myself with Cherry Pie.

Watching Lockout (2012).

Cleaning out space on my computer.

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Matthew Divito.

Monday November 26 2012


☼ ○ ▬

At an airport. I follow a group of people understood to be on the same flight as me. We locate a foyer room at the end of the concourse. The moving escalators are in reverse with the stairs moving upward and we can’t climb down. Even the elevators are out of whack. They’ve closed off this sector I suppose but why wouldn’t they just lock the doors rather than allow all this mumbo jumbo. We’re all confused.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:08 a.m.

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

All day shift at China Wok.

The weather is absolutely lovely, cold enough to wear a thin jacket but warm enough to ride with the windows down.

Delivering an order to a semi-wealthy house on Caton Drive near the hospital. A mother/wife comes to the door to sign the receipt. She asks in a mild Russian accent, “Can I put tip on here?”

“Yes, of course,” I answer.

She scribbles in a $6 tip and thanks me with a smile. I walk away and try to imagine her story. Probably about ten years ago she comes to Virginia Beach from Russia to work for the summer. She meets a charming businessman in a bar at the oceanfront. They fall in love, get married, have kids, and move into this big house. She must be a happy and grateful Russian woman.

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Maui Onion Kettle Cooked Chips with Avocado and Salsa.

The last half of the afternoon is dreadfully slow. But thankfully I brought my laptop to work today to keep myself busy with research and Facebook.

Evening deliveries.

Bosc Pear.

It’s slow.

Vegetable Lo Mein.

Off work.

Elliott invited me for a Rick’s night out. Leslie reached out to me so she also joins. I hop myself up on Coffee. Elliott writes out his dinner options on a napkin to help him decide what to eat. After helping him through it he ends up going for the usual (the comfort zone food).

James walks in to join us. We notice his freshly shaved mustache and side burns.

Elliott: “If I had just met you, like at a Wawa or something, my first impression of you would not be who I think you are right now.”

James: “What would be your first impression of me?”

Elliott: “I don’t know. Like if you came up and spoke to me and I didn’t know who you were I would probably think you’re a hard ass.”

Me: “Yeah! I would too actually.”

Leslie: “I would not!”

James: “Really? What would you think?”

Leslie: “I’d think you’d just finished fishing or something.”


James: “I feel like meeting Robert as a stranger would be the same as meeting him everyday.”


James: “I feel like I’d have the same feelings and/or emotions.”


Everybody’s food comes out. Elliott receives his plate of a grilled cheese sandwich with tater tots and mac n cheese.

I comment, “Dude, starch meal of the century!”


Talking about communication on Facebook and the internet in general...

Me: “There’s a certain amount of etiquette that people have. Everyone’s etiquette differs.”

Elliott: “Some people have bad etiquette. I don’t know it’s pretty funny.”

Me: “It’s just so interesting to me. You got to think about it, like the internet’s not very old. Like, it happened while we were kids. The internet showed up out of nowhere. We’re still a part of the generation that’s being acclimated to internet behavior. We’re learning how to be cyber kids.”

James says something in the style of a valley girl voice, “I’ve got that part covered,” and kind of sings the last word.

Me: “What are we in Clueless right now? If they remade Clueless and instead of starring high school girls they starred—”

James: “Us?”

Everyone chuckles.

Me: “—middle-aged men what would it be called?”

Leslie: “Dumb and Dumber.”


Eventually, the discussion migrates to the topic of flatulence and the many ways you can produce flatulence with your body. James of course is an expert and we come up with at least ten different techniques. We’re the only customers in Rick’s at this point so we don’t hold back with the fart noises. It’s endless laughter and nonsense.

Elliott attempts to make the sounds on his arm with his mouth. Instead he sprays a little bit of spit in the air.

Leslie: “Say it. Don’t spray it!”  

Me: “Hey! Flatulate it. Don’t extrapolate it!”


Me: “Dude, you sound like a frog farting under water!”

James explains that when he gets back to the house he’s going to try the back-to-floor fart and give a raspberry to either Anthony or Kevin.

James: “But who’s gonna let me?”

Me: “Anthony won’t. But Kevin definitely will.”

James: “I feel like his belly would be smelly.”


Back at the house. Leslie and I compile the doodle artifacts of the night. We finish filling in the line graph that follows Elliott and I’s hangout time throughout an average year. I use the blog to see how often Elliott is involved in my life. Turns out August and December were the most popular months for us.


Leslie and I rev ourselves up in conversation – talking about circadian rhythms – our eating patterns – our sleeping patterns – the importance of nutrition education and resourcefulness. She claims she talks too much but I find myself, when around her, talking too much as well. After 3:30 a.m. she leaves.

Sleep around 4:30 a.m.

[i] All doodles drawn by Leslie.

Sunday November 25 2012


Waking up 11:35 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).

All day shift at China Wok.

Chores at work: bagging the fried noodles – folding the menus – stocking sauces.

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Tortilla Chips with Salsa and Avocado. Sweet Green Tea.

The evening picks up for deliveries. I’m on autopilot – driving through the same neighborhoods and delivering to the same familiar addresses.

Thoughts on how complacent I’ve become in my choice to publicize my life in blog form. I sometimes forget that others are involved and it becomes difficult to exclude important memories because I don’t want to exploit them. Publicity vs. privacy. It’s a never-ending battle.

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

Off work and back home. It’s quiet in here...just the way I like it.

Doing a few chores while recapping general ideas of the day.

Earlier in the day Margot texted me a response to the blog entry I posted today from last year which involved me having a romantic encounter with somebody else. At the time I was not seeing Margot but of course she finds a reason to hate my decisions and actions. It just turns into a Bash Robert Fest 2012. She’s forever victimizing herself and finding ways to say woe is me. We continue texting back and forth all night. All of a sudden, she’s having epiphanies about our relationship over the years. She’s being completely unreasonable and emotional. And I take on a mediating role. Why isn’t this stuff past us by now? Let it go. Let it go. After she gets all that bitterness out of her system she ends it with something sappy, but poetic and nice. I mean I could see this quoted over a high quality photo of a couple in bed, and of course it would be re-blogged on Tumblr a thousand times.

Her: “What’s really sad about this is I know I can never truly say goodbye to you. A small part of me is always going to want to reach out to you. But I need to convince myself that I never want to see you again. When really all I want right now is to be lying next to you.”

Dark Chocolate with Milk.

Watching Meeting Evil (2012).

Sleep 3:45 a.m.

[i] Falun 1 Draft. Office Supplies Incorporated.

Saturday November 24 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Hanging out at a bar or a restaurant surrounded by a lot of friends and strangers. President Obama makes an appearance. I confidently approach and ask if it’s okay to take a photo with him along with my friend. I pull out my phone and hold it up to make sure we’re all in frame but for some reason I can’t take a clear picture. Each one is blurry. I attempt to fix the problem but by that time Obama has to move on. I try to track him down in the hallway but no luck.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:12 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).

All day shift at China Wok.

It’s actually wintertime weather now – in the 30’s.

Dreadfully slow in the afternoon.

Snapping the peas.

Hard Boiled Egg. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Raspberry Lemonade.

Business picks up in the evening.

Mini Milk Chocolate Turkey.

Lentils, Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Brown Sauce.

Grossing myself out by watching The Human Centipede 2: Full Sequence (2011).

In so far as the learner was in Error, and now receives the Truth and with it the condition for understanding it, a change takes place within him like the change from non-being to being.” - Søren Kierkegaard

Chocolate Milk and a Soviet version of Winnie the Pooh...

Sleep 3:30 a.m.

[i] Still frame from Winnie the Pooh (Soviet version).

Friday November 23 2012


☼ ○ ▬

In a high school. It’s understood that I’m a student along with a few roommates and friends of mine. I enter the classroom and watch as a helicopter crash through the window. An unsuspecting guy in the middle of the room gets slammed and cut up. I look at the bloody scene. Everyone is in shock. It’s strange because the helicopter sort of transformed into a ceiling fan. Later, in another classroom I find myself drawn to the window. I can see a black spec in the sky gradually growing bigger. I fear the same thing will happen. I warn everyone around me.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up after a deep sleep at 12:40 p.m. I hear the sound of the Spanish speaking voices of Jennifer and my stepmother reverberating through the bedroom door of my guest room.

Instant Oatmeal. Decaf Green Tea. Orange Juice.

Hanging out around the house. I feel obligated to entertain. Dancing in the living room with Jennifer. She shows me how to salsa dance and other various moves. We lock arms and take each other by the hands attempting to spin one another. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Patty is cooking up a storm.


Outside kicking the soccer ball around. It’s a beautiful brisk day in November.

Lunch/dinner on the patio: Egg, Cabbage Salad, Rice, Broccoli, and Collard Greens.

Teaching each other card games. We’re laughing constantly. Enjoying this playful relationship with my newly acquired stepsister – a bond has formed. 

Slice after slice of Sweet Potato Pie. Coffee.

Jennifer writes something in Spanish down in my notebook. She acts embarrassed when I try to translate it on the computer.

La dia que te conoci mi caiste muy bien y espero que yo tambien a ti por que eres una persona muy adorable y feliz y eso me encanta de ti y espero que yo tambien te había caido bien

Directly translated: “The day I met my you fell very well and I also hope that you're a very lovely and happy and I love you and I hope you too had fallen well

I think by “fallen” or “fell” she means “feel”. Either way I take these words as her way of saying nice to meet you and that she’s glad her stepbrother turned out to be likable and impressive.

I’m delegated to drive the girls to Lowe’s for some red ribbons and ornaments that Patty needs to complete the outside Christmas decorations. My dad just got off work and just wants to relax in his recliner. I take the wheel and pretend to maneuver like an amateur driver, hitting the brakes suddenly and sounding confused on where to go. Patty and Jennifer laugh hysterically.

It’s time for me to head back to Virginia Beach. I say my goodbyes to the family and leave. During the three-hour trek Jennifer and I text back and forth. Its kind of fun as I sometimes have to copy and paste the español portions into Google Translate. She’s asking if I think she’s pretty. I explain that she’s gonna win over a lot of boy’s hearts. I realize that she’s just beginning the teenage stage in her life. Not too long from now she’s going to be dealing with boys in a way she’s never had to deal with them before. This whole brother-sister thing is still unfamiliar to me, and I’m trying to get acclimated to it. I guess it’s not too big of deal considering I don’t live in that household. But I still have an important role to play and I’m up for the task.

Back home.

Lentil and Carrot Sandwich with Tomato.


Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] All images by me.

Thursday November 22 2012


8:15 a.m. I’m up and on the road. North Carolina see my dad for Thanksgiving.


Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar.


Driving on 58 and then on I-95. The beautiful autumn scenery accompanies my peripheral vision. Talking on the phone with mom for over an hour – on the bigger grander issues in life – about equipping ourselves against inconsistencies and fallacies – understanding our influence on the people around us and how powerful that can be in determining, in some cases, life or death.

And here I am in Goldsboro. The trip only took three hours. I pull up into the driveway of my dad’s house and there he is already standing there. Of course he comments about my purple car, “The Purple People Eater!” 


A bunch of months ago the daughter of my dad’s wife Patty, from Honduras, moved in with them. I meet my stepsister for the first time. Her name is Jennifer and she is sixteen, a sprightly young gal who’s still working on her “Inglés”. We all hop into the car and drive to Clayton. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt Pansy’s husband’s mother’s house. She’s a whopping 93 years old, healthy and British. Her house is historic, just a tad bit older than her, over a hundred years old. Exploring the ancient drafty architecture – complete with an exhausted upright piano slightly out of tune, space heaters from the 50’s, a hefty ping pong table, a working stove from 1946, and a big book collection – it’s been well kept up and there’s a beautiful spirit of love and warmth here.

Gathered around the table for an authentic Thanksgiving meal including all the essential dishes: Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Collard Greens, Stuffing, Green Beans, Butter Beans, Deviled Eggs, Cranberry Sauce, and Dinner Rolls. Despite my pescetarian diet I partake in everything. The sound of clinking plates and glasses as dinner talk ensues. Scarlet, my aunt’s dog, scurries underneath the table hoping for scraps. My aunt discusses the unfortunate health problems with her dog and explains, “She’s my buddy—she’s my girlfriend in North Carolina cause I don’t have one so she’s my girlfriend for me. I talk to her like I would a girlfriend. She’s my company. She’s a good dog.”

Afterwards, my dad, Jennifer, and I venture outside and hang out on the colossal-size front porch with a chair swing. I pluck away on the guitar singing a few familiar tunes for my dad and I to sing along as well as whatever songs I’ve been working on lately. For some reason my voice is hoarse ever since early this morning and I’m forced to half-whisper the melodies. The weather outside is wonderful – the sun glaring down on the floorboards and providing heat to our bodies despite the brisk cool air.

Eventually, we leave and drive about an hour or so away to another family-related gathering. On the way. Jennifer and I get anxious in the backseat. I crank up some tunes on my iPod that both her and Patty can bop to.


I observe the father-daughter relationship between Jennifer and my dad. It’s kind of strange at first because I’m supposed to be his only child but I kind of like the idea of having a stepsister. Jennifer leans forward and fiddles with my dad’s grey head of hair turning it into a mini-mohawk as a joke. She then transforms my hair in the same way.

Me: “Like father like son!”


We arrive in Grimesland where my aunt Deloris lives. Inside the cozy house sipping on Coffee and having Pumpkin Pie. Vicki, a cousin I’ve only met once or twice in my life is here with her husband and two lively young boys. Throwing the football around with them and Jennifer outside. I’m the big kid and proud to be the instigator of holiday fun. One of the boys is super talkative and carries around his iPad blaring pop tunes. At some point I get coerced into strumming some Christmas songs on guitar for a sing-a-long.

The evening dwindles down. My dad and a few of the fellows pay close attention to the Redskins-Cowboys football game on television. While waiting I sit on the couch with Jennifer flipping through the pages of a Webster’s Dictionary pointing out words for her to learn.


We leave and head back home. The drive is long. But this is quite normal in North Carolina where most anyone you know is always a “drive” away rather than around the corner, at least that’s always how I experienced visits to this state. There’s a quickly growing kinship between Jennifer and I, a sibling kind of relationship that I lost growing up when my real sister died in ‘91. It’s kind of nice especially since she’s a teenager and I feel I can have that big brotherly influence on her.


Finally making it home. In the guest/office room I help Jennifer upload some select Spanish hip-hop songs onto her phone. With the Google Translate tab opened we’re able to understand each other in conversation a little better. She types in questions about me and I type back answers to her. 


Snacking on some Popcorn that turns out to be expired and therefore plastic-like. I revert to a few slices of Sweet Potato Pie.

I’m terribly beat from the whole day. Sleep 2 a.m.

[i] All images by me.

Wednesday November 21 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Standing in line inside a school or public facility. What are we waiting for? In conversation with friends cracking jokes, something to do with the Italian language. Kevin leans over to a dark skinned man behind us and asks, “Don’t you speak Italian?” and then immediately turns away as if he just realized he said something stupid. Kevin lowers his head and grins. We all laugh. The Italian man doesn’t seem amused and approaches us. It’s understood that he’s a police officer. He pulls out a strange device understood to be a breathalyzer and demands Kevin breathe into it. Then he shoves it into my face. I blow into it and the thing starts beeping along with a blinking red LED light.

He questions me, “Were you drinking tonight?”

I stay honest. “Yes I had one beer earlier.”

I was hoping he’d be lenient on me since I wasn’t loud and obnoxious. But he pulls me outside and questions me some more.

Me: “I don’t normally drink, officer. And I never get drunk.”

Something happened to my car. I notice somebody stripped my hood and roof replacing it with another hood and roof of a different shade of purple.

Me: “Whoa! Why would somebody do that? Why would somebody go through all the effort of that?”

The officer seems confused as I am. He inspects the car as if he’s looking for something awry. Across the parking lot I spot another vehicle with my hood and roof. “There it is!” I run over to make sure it’s true. I don’t know whose car it is or anything. I mean what can I do at this point?

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at some point.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar. Vitamin D (2,000 IU). Zinc (50 mg).

Chatting with Aysena.

Researching new computers.

Playing music.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

Playing more music.

Exercising – learning Russian.

Going for a run around the neighborhood along to piano sonatas.

James Graves arrives. Minnie arrives. I bake Iced Whole Wheat Pumpkin Muffins while James and Minnie fill up paint into glass bottles and shake them up creating a smeared color effect.

Sharing the muffins and eating Leftover Salmon with Onions, Mushrooms, Green Peppers, Carrots, and Rice.

A few games of Sequence.

Jes arrives. Then, Becca’s here all the way from Blacksburg. I sit down in a chair and she cuts my hair.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Untitled by Minnie.

Tuesday November 20 2012


Waking up just before 3 p.m. with a throbbing headache.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar. Ibuprofen. Zinc (50 mg).

Cleaning up downstairs – sweeping – mopping – doing the dishes.

Double Egg Sandwich with Ketchup, Avocado, and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Witness to Jonestown (2008) about the Jonestown Massacre that happened in 1978.

Getting groceries.

Coffee with a Granola Bar.

House meeting.

Salmon with Onions, Mushrooms, Green Peppers, Carrots, and Rice.

Finishing Witness to Jonestown (2008).

Playing guitar – reviving old melodies.

A small bowl of Cheerios with Brown Sugar and Milk.

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Kim Asendorf.

Monday November 19 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Walking around with a friend in a courtyard that has a roof but no walls. I’m giving her the tour of this little room enclosure I constructed specifically for recording that also has no walls but all the equipment is placed in such a way to give the impression there are walls. It’s very dark outside. I guess we’re about to spend the night. She notices a stalker about a hundred feet away.

Her: “Why is he staring at us?”

Chills run down my spine because it’s really creepy. But I ensure, “Don’t worry about him. We’re safe here.”

I notice a green and yellow python slither by us. He perches his front half up and faces me with eager eyes. I try moving side to side in a strafing technique to avoid him snapping at me. It’s proving difficult.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at 11:07 a.m.

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

All day shift at China Wok.

A slow afternoon.

Jes shows up. I stop by the house and we sit down at the table with Kevin to eat lunch. Jes mentions how she sees this place as a zoo and I’m it’s zookeeper.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Tortilla Chips with Avocado and Salsa. Honey Green Tea.

The day picks up with steady deliveries.

Bosc Pear.

Vegetable Lo Mein.

Off work.

The kids are letting off some steam downstairs playing some kind of card game called 21 that involves drinking vodka-orange soda and establishing rules to abide by otherwise if you don’t you lose an article of clothing.

I leave to return this pimple spot treatment to Margot (I had borrowed it from her when I had that mountainous spot on my nose). Hanging out on the couch watching The Voice where up and coming young singers show their talent. I eat up on a slice of Carrot Cream Cake and drink a Killian’s. We’re playful towards each other and it feels understood that we’ll have sex. We both agree that it’s for the best that we don’t hang out like this anymore – I mean we made this agreement ages ago anyway. Again, I don’t look at this as a concession or any kind of major re-connect. It’s a subtle re-connect...a morale pick-me-up, I don’t know.

Back home.

Anthony knocks on my door. As soon as I open it up he reaches in for a strong hug. “I just wanna give you a hug and tell you that I love you. My dad always said you should tell the people you love that you love them every day.” His eyes a little watery, I can see he’s burdened with heavy thoughts. Then he points to my arm and mentions something poetic about the flesh and how it’s not always gonna be there. Jonathon’s suicide has raised a lot of questions and awareness between all of us here at the house. It seems to be affecting our lives more and more everyday.

In other news, I receive a Facebook message from Raven, yes, Raven. She had actually asked for a string of photos that were taken last summer with Jonathon in them (they were close friends). She added a sort of apology excerpt. It’s been over a year since I’ve had any contact with her as we departed from our intense but brief romantic affair. I mean the whole reason any of us knew Jonathon was because of her. But as cheesy as it sounds I’ve had multiple dreams over the past year about this day...the day she acknowledges the ugliness of the events and how everything went down. I dreamed of reconciliation intently that it felt absolutely real in the dream. But here it is in reality...

Also, I'm really sorry about everything. I really just need to be a better person now, and I feel like last summers events were very selfish of me. It truly hurts me to remember causing you and Adam pain, as well as the strain it put on my friendships (Amanda). I also feel bad because I remember how close I was with Jon and that moment in my life and instead of using those opportunities to get closer I was so caught up in what was happening that I couldn't even work on my own existing friendships, and I can't ignore that feeling. I don't know, I have a lot of regret to work through about almost everything in my life, and I hold my emotions in my front pockets so it's not like I can let this all pass. Ive had very few opportunities to apologize in sincerity and a state of clarity, so I would like for this to be one of them. You are an exceptional and kind person and you didn't deserve for me to treat you the way that I did.

I hear the sound of persistent glass breaking coming from downstairs. I investigate to find Richie and Josh and whomever else without reason slamming glass bottles out back and inside the house. There’s drunkenness in the air. The dining room is a muddy mess. I go on a rant and demand that everybody leave. This is all too much. I really don’t understand this kind of destructionist mindset. I mean this is their forte. I like to destroy things sometimes but this is in their blood. It controls them.


I go for a run. It’s only a little bit chilly. It’s refreshing. My escape. As Beethoven’s Sonata in E Minor Opus 90 trickles into my ears I feel righteous anger...anger against all the wrong in this world and all the wrong that hits close to home. I think about Jonathon’s death. I think about Anthony’s fierce attitude earlier. I think about Aysena. I think about my mom. I think about Margot. I think about my sins. I think about destruction and beauty. My heart beats faster than the tempo of this classical piano. God we need purity. We need salvation from our retched lives. I look at my friends, and friends of friends, and how they act like degenerates when intoxicated. What does this accomplish? Absolutely nothing. It merely reinforces the downfalls of humanity.

Settling down in my room with a bag of Popcorn and a can of Busch Beer.

Watching Bug (2006). 

Peter Evans: [on why he hasn't been with a woman for a long time] “I just decided it wasn't worth it anymore.”
Agnes White: “What wasn't?”
Peter Evans: “You have a centre right? A place inside of you that's just you, that hasn't been spoiled... And I think it's really important to try and keep that space sacred. In some sense, on some level, but... sex or relationships cloud that space... or, they cloud me I guess, they make it difficult to be just me and not have to worry about... being somebody else. I sound like a big asshole, don't I.”

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Quote by Stephen King.

Sunday November 18 2012


Waking up in her bed around 11:15 a.m. alone.

I arrive back home to get ready for the day. As I’m boiling some water I hear somebody march slowly down the stairs. I look out and it’s Anthony. He’s standing completely still and with a forlorn face as if he’d just seen the most terrifying ghost.

“Jonathon committed suicide last night,” he says.

I feel the same dread he feels.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

I wasn’t terribly close to Jonathon but he came over to the house off and on to hang out with our friend-family. He was always quiet-spoken. Anthony had taken to him like a distant brother.

Me: “I don’t even know what to think or say. This is intense.”

Anthony shows me this book that Jonathon gave him a week ago and claimed it was his favorite book: The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. Zinc (50 mg).

All day shift at China Wok.

While I’m driving around delivering, dark thoughts press hard on my mind. I’ve never had to deal with suicide so close to our thread of friends. I give Anthony a call to kind of debrief and figure it out. The more and more I think about it the more shaken up I feel. I think the biggest thing to remember is we can’t take responsibility. It wasn’t anybody else’s fault. Jonathon made is own decision according to his philosophy at the time. But it still breaks my heart. This is real life.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea. Vegan Pumpkin Muffins.

Delivering an order to the Fairfield Inn at the Oceanfront. As I walk into the lobby I can see through the big glass windows kite surfers out in the water braving the high force winds.

As usual Sunday is steady for business.

Fried Shrimp with Broccoli, Onions, and Carrots in Garlic Sauce.

Off work.

Chatting on the phone with Margot while I do some crunches. Hashing out some understandings with part humor and part sincerity. In no way have we been “seeing” each other or anything like that. We’ve merely seen each other more than once over this past month. But I’ve taken a kind of carefree attitude towards it and towards most things lately. In a way she has too.

Running into Kevin in the hallway. I can see the heaviness in his eyes. Jonathon’s suicide affected all of us in a surreal way.

Sipping on Red & White Tea with Lemon and Honey.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Hollis Brown Thornton.

Saturday November 17 2012


☼ ○ ▬

It becomes an awkward situation in my house when Aysena visits me while Margot is here. Margot doesn’t know the full extent of who she is to me. We’re leaving. Margot gave me the keys to this car I’ve never driven and I’m having trouble finding it. It’s supposed to be a Camaro or a Camo, I don’t know.

“So where is this car, Margot?”

She’s being evasive on purpose.

“Which car is it?! C’mon! I’m gonna be late for work!”

I find myself uncontrollably screaming in anger. I’m stressed because I also have to give Aysena a ride somewhere. She walks over to the trashcan to dump something. I confront her.

“So are you coming?”


I explain that Margot is my ex-girlfriend, but she already knows that. Margot walks over and offers Ays a strange looking hug and insults her by calling her Abe Lincoln.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up directly at 11:21 a.m. The back of my throat is a little itchy and my head is still throbbing. And now I’m gonna be a tad bit late for work.

A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar. Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. Ibuprofen. Zinc (50 mg).

All day shift at China Wok.

Anthony had texted me last night while I was at The Wave...
...lost out here in a thousand loose details and the fog of a friday night...where the hell is robert and what is he doing and what is he thinking and who is he really right now in this exact moment in time and space? ...we need to connect soon. to set our hearts and souls and minds and everythings right. we need to. soon soon soon.

I respond back to him now with, “in that exact moment I was in the middle of a dance frenzy...a time void of a somewhat strange world of friendly misfit party people. I was thinking about how free I felt and how gorgeous this African beauty was and happy that she reciprocated the attraction. I was who I was which is who I am.”

I add, “in other words I was at the wave.”

Hard Boiled Egg. Five Guys French Fries. Honey Green Tea.

It’s a slow day for deliveries.

Bosc Pear.

Off work and back home.

Hot and Sour Soup with Rice, Broccoli, and Bread.

Watching Battleground (2012).

I hear a bunch of commotion in the hallway. The kids have schemed to barricade Kevin’s bedroom door with everything they can find while he’s sleeping. At the top of the twin mattress two bowlfuls of water sit waiting for an unsuspecting Kevin to get an early morning douse. I live in a zoo.


Margot calls me with a request to give her a ride to her car because she’s stranded at Poon’s. Earlier in the day we got into quite a bicker on the phone and I called her a child, multiple times to get the point across. She doesn’t how to act any other way towards me, even now when we’re not dating nor seeing each other. Sometimes she gets so bitter I have no choice but to say it like it really is. So with that in mind I didn’t like the cross feelings so I take her up on the request. After dropping her off she insists I come over.


There. She’s wearing this new pink dress that she takes pride in.

“Do you like my dress?”

“Yes. Of course.”

She takes it off along with everything else except her panties. Still fully clothed I join her underneath the soft Hello Kitty blanket. I’m entrapped now. When her body is presented to me in such a way – or when I am confined underneath her pressing bosom – I cannot refrain from surrender. At some point it becomes irresistible. Here’s to another pick-me-up-ex-girlfriend sex.


I wanted to get back home after that but sleepiness overwhelms me.

[i] Nothings. Graphic from Adbusters.
[ii] Image by me.

Friday November 16 2012


☼ ○ ▬

High levels of anxiety and stress when I come home and find somebody pulled a prank and somehow moved my car out of its parking place and painted nonsensical letters on the windows. I see other miscellaneous things were taken from inside the house and placed as a barricade by the front door of my car. How in the world did someone do this? None of it makes any sense. I barge inside the house and demand that all our party guests leave. “Alright. Everyone get the fuck out! Now!” I tap everything as I march through. “Come on! I’m not playing games. Let’s go! Everybody go home!” I find Anthony and question him, “I suppose you’re just gonna tell me that Richie did it? Who did it? Tell me!” I’m terribly upset because there’s always something I have to clean up or repair or re assemble. I’m fed up with it. Anthony is proving relentlessly unhelpful. Outside some guy that I don’t know who is apparently friends with an old roommate of mine, Kyle, is pressure washing my car to get off the graffiti.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 1:30 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

I get the opportunity to Skype with Aysena for about an hour. Ahh. I miss her. And I can see the missing in her as well. Both of us are happy and playful in conversation. Whenever I talk with her it keeps my heart in check and I attempt to hold onto the clarity of whom my heart is loyal to. Ever since she left I stayed in contact and we chatted with each other more frequently than we do now. Over time I have to disbar from it just a little bit so I can live my life. It’s important to focus on what’s going on here in my world. But whenever our eyes align through the computer screens it all comes back...everything that was between us. The future is it always is. But she’s a beautiful rare jewel, that’s for sure. And I’ll give this a chance when we have another opportunity. 

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Tortilla Chips with Salsa and Avocado. Raspberry Lemonade.

Watching A Mighty Heart (2007).


Learning Russian.

Vegan Pumpkin Muffins. Coffee.

I leave the house alone and trek out to Norfolk to hit up The Wave. My newly acquainted friend, Octavia, will be there. I tried to get James Graves to go but he refuses to leave his abode. It’s the opposite of crowded and the dance floor is bare but that doesn’t stop the rare few who came to knock off their socks and cut a rug. After a few dollar PBR’s (you can’t beat that anywhere) I give the floor a go and dance hard. Throughout the evening Octavia keeps me in sight. It feels like I’m her little sidekick for the night...taking me by the hand and guiding me through her world – meeting some of her friends. I already knew Hannah, one of Kristin’s best friends. She was always very nice to me. A flamboyant gay guy be-friends Octavia and I separately. On the floor he doesn’t hesitate to approach me and ask, “What are you on?”

“Uh. I’m not on anything. I’ve only had two beers!”

“You are super hot!” he explains and then persists to bump and grind on my ass. I don’t know how to react. He seems enthralled with Octavia just the same.


At some point amidst the flashing lights and booming music I receive a text from Anthony. He’s at home.

...lost out here in a thousand loose details and the fog of a friday night...where the hell is robert and what is he doing and what is he thinking and who is he really right now in this exact moment in time and space? ...we need to connect soon. to set our hearts and souls and minds and everythings right. we need to. soon soon soon.


They hit the lights just before 2 a.m. Closing time. Octavia hops into my car and we head up the street to an apartment near ODU. Parked. She divulges into a little bit of her family life while I chow down on a plate of Spaghetti I picked up from Mama Joe’s. She’s a nightlife warrior. It’s her escape and she revels in the after-midnight madness that takes place on the hip side of Norfolk. Her friends are her “family”. Even from our last meeting at Rick’s I could tell there was something genuine about her underneath this youthful charade.


We step inside the apartment. Her brother is here along with tons of her homies. A beer pong game is in session. I watch as they tactfully toss the ping-pong balls across the table, sometimes shouting incomprehensible slang not even I can understand. I venture into the living room. Some white dude, obviously stoned or maybe drunk, doesn’t stop himself from immediately engaging in a conversation with me.

He asks, “So what do you do?” or something along those lines.

He mentions my shaggy bed-head and wonders if I’m some computer programmer, “You must be one of those who’re on the computer all day.”

“Yeah I guess so. I do write a blog.”

We hit it off well. He explains that he just finished the third stage of the break-up process with his ex-girlfriend and that his main prerogative tonight is to meet girls. He’s extremely talkative and eager to forget his worries. This cat isn’t stupid though; he’s got intellect.

Me: “Just be a really nice guy. Girls like that.”

I say my goodbye to Octavia and the other people I just met.

Back home. My head is throbbing. Goodnight. 4:30 a.m.

[i] Image by me.