Saturday November 3 2012


Getting out of bed at 11:14 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Anthony texts a quote from The Imitation of Christ by Thomas A Kempis, “We must sometimes leave even our own mind to gain the blessing of peace.” This is something I’ll soon find out will resonate for me later in the evening.

Two Hard-Boiled Eggs. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Honey Green Tea.

During the down time at work I’m able to do some quick shopping at Trader Joe’s. While waiting in line to check out I take a few moments to scan the shopping frenzy scene surrounding me – trying to get a fresh perspective on these people’s auras – imagining that I’m seeing all this, modern society, for the first time. As I’m walking out to the car, brown bag in hand, I find my mind boggled by the idea of attachment. I just can’t understand relationships...with anyone, friend or lover. Maybe this is just a personal outlook that I’ve developed over the course of my life but it almost seems the only reason one chooses to love another is because they’re simply around. You accept your habitat and settle down with the familiar. I don’t think this necessarily has a negative consequence. If anything, this kind of behavior is a survival tool.

On and off chatting with Aysena on VK. She has a lot to speak about now...the interesting day she had...the feelings of missing. Amongst all this interaction I’m amazed at this relationship and how the bond between us splashes wide open every time we communicate and then retreats back into hiding when we don’t. It’s powerful...this relational phenomenon. And it’s not just with her. I observe this is in my other relationships.

The phone rings at the restaurant and I hear a familiar voice on the other line. It’s Whiskey Rob! I used to deliver Chinese food to him all the time along with a few extra things like smokes and booze; as well I’d clean his house. He’d never fail to tip me generously. I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. He’s calling me from the hospital though. His health has taken a horrible turn but it’s nothing he didn’t expect. I find him there on the hospital bed. He ordered Chinese donuts for the nurses because they’ve been so nice to him. He’s got a million IVs poking into his arms and his feet are so swollen they resemble the size of a cartoon character’s feet. I got him an electronic cigarette on the side.

The deliveries are steady. Just another day in the hood.

Rachel and her beloved boyfriend, Wyatt, ride around with me on a long run. As usual Rachel blurts out witty and clever comments about anything and everything. She’s a cute little bugger.

Hot and Sour Soup with Rice and Broccoli.

On the phone with my mom while delivering the last order. We discuss the “shifts” both of us have been experiencing lately, and some of the messages we’ve been hearing within ourselves. It’s nothing new that the world feels like it’s on the brink of change; we both know this well and everyone’s grown up hearing this preached at them. But she reiterates, “Specific things in the world are going to change...miracles beginning to take place.” My mother is completely in tune with God. Her spiritual confidence is always something I’ve looked up to and been inspired by.


I park on the street in my neighborhood and have to put our conversation on hold because the house needs me. There’s some kind of pajama party going on and the power went out downstairs. Of course the circuit breakers are in my room, which is locked. So much attention is required of me by others. And then texts from other people show up on my phone. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a chaotic time void that some would be thrilled to live in and others, like me, just want to break away from. Then again, it’s the chaos that makes it all that exciting.

In the house. The kids are psyched up blaring 90’s tunes on the TV. I find a note underneath my bedroom door from Kevin. He owed me $2.20 left of his rent. It reads (grammatical errors and misspellings included), “Dear fascist dictator, hear is your rent money. Sincerely, the man in the other room. P.S. I will catch you one of these days making a grilled cheese sandwich, you’ll’ll see...P.P.S I deliberately short changed you by one cent. That is a way of rebelling against your Robertocracy.” 

Scarfing down a few Pumpkin Muffins from last night.

Downstairs the living room is breathing and vying for my companionship. The pajama party has turned into a viewing session from episodes of Pete & Pete, Rocko’s Modern Life, and The Wonder Years. Everyone’s sprawled out on the couches and the floor wearing various pajama pants.

Eating Biscoff Biscuits dipped in Coffee.

Later, after the majority of the crowd leaves, James, Leslie, and I are left to ourselves at the dining room table.

Eating Peanut Butter Toast with a PBR.

There’s doodling – and while James doodles vigorously on the back of a white cover page from Anthony’s old binder, Leslie and I dig into a vigorous discussion on the choosing of social environments and the troubles of being identified as an artist.


Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Car Dashboard. Graphic by Wyatt.
[ii] Doodle by Leslie.

No comments: