Friday November 9 2012


☼ ○ ▬

I owe a debt to some kind of suburban crime lord. Standing at the front door of his house. I fumble through wads of cash and hand some of it over to a man. Upon second thought I grab some of it back and say, “Fuck this! I’m not giving you all my money.” I walk off down the street in the vicinity of the oceanfront in Virginia Beach. I pass a block where a building has just been demolished and the pile of rubble is hard to ignore. Later, I’m in the living room of the crime lord’s house, which is also understood to be my place of residence. There’s an uncertain amount of money locked away in a black briefcase to which I’m the only one with the lock combination. But I forgot it off the top of my head so I’m searching desperately in my phone’s memos for it. I’m hoping to take back the money I gave earlier. 

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up just before 2 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

I have the pleasure of seeing Aysena’s face on Skype.

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

There’s a big show tonight happening at a new DIY space called That’s How I Beat Shaq, or The Shaq for short, just off Witchduck Road. It’s the opening night actually. Rusty asked Musicplayer to do a set. I grab Kevin, Anthony, and Kelley and we arrive on site. This place is reminiscent of Concrete, the space that Stephanie had running for a while. It’s packed to the brim with a diverse demographic, from angsty teen punks to raging hipsters. Mingling around and sharing conversation. Just another hazy social evening. Rachel arrives with Minnie, a new friend of hers. At some point Rachel gets hurt pretty bad. She had ran up innocently to Kevin and jumped on him for a hug. Kevin, in all his drunken clumsiness, manages to trip over with Rachel underneath. I watch her head slam into the asphalt. She’s so fragile and it’s already enough that she hurts easily. She’s in agony lying on the ground. I help her up and tend to her morale while Kevin apologizes as sincerely as he can in his rambunctious state of mind. I’ve got Rachel propped up in the passenger seat of Carmen’s car with my arm wrapped around her pretending to be her father. Even though she can be melodramatic, which everyone notices, I know she is really hurting. Her body isn’t in any kind of condition to withstand these kinds of incidents.

The night moves on and I’ve got a set to perform. Inside it’s hot and crammed. All of my friends are more than supportive by offering loud obnoxious chants. It doesn’t matter that it’s just me and an acoustic guitar, they all shuffle their feet and shake their bodies; they sing along, but overreaching the volume of my voice through the PA speakers.

Anthony approaches me after, “Easily, the best Musicplayer show right?”

Me: “Well, not because of me. Because of you guys!”     

There’re more bands to go. I join in on the moshing and crowd surfing. I make pretty good friends with Minnie. At some point I walk with her to the 7-11 to buy pain relievers. She’s almost the same height as Rachel, and both just as cute. We talk about our lives while trying to avoid the rushing cars underneath the overpass. She also delves into the world of the arts. Along the way I find a dead pigeon. I wrap it up in plastic bags to give to Rachel cause I know she’d love to use it in an art piece. Come to find out, Wheeler decided to take Rachel to the emergency room just to be sure there wasn’t a fracture on her leg. I stop by for moral support and to make sure she gets the dead bird, which she’s thrilled about. Turns out it wasn’t a fracture but only a tissue bruise. The hospital gives her a prescription for painkillers and a pair of crutches. 

Back home.

Spaghetti with Onions, Mushrooms, and Marinara Sauce.

Sleep around 4 a.m.

[i] Photos by Richie Howard.

No comments: