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[i] ☼ ○ ▬
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 uncertain...as 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).
Chores.
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.
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