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[i]Around noon I wake up in Margot’s bed. Everything’s normal and natural. No sex. It was just a proper sleepover.
Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.
At random I get a message from Octavia, the African beauty I
met briefly at the Halloween ball. We’ve only exchanged a few casual messages
through Facebook. She happened to be on this side of town and asked to grab a
bite to eat with me. We meet up at Rick’s Café. I sip on Coffee while we do the
get-to-know-you chat. I didn’t know what to expect because the first time we
met she was wearing a unicorn costume. Dressed in spunky street attire and
talking with a shade of apathy, I get a glimpse into this girl’s outlook on
life. Half Hawaiian and half African; she thinks my face is handsome.
...
Me: “So what is your expertise? What do you do?”
Her: “I used to play guitar. I used to play the piano. I
used to play the clarinet. I used to do a lot of things. Now I’m just boring.”
Me: “Well, what does a boring person do?”
Her: “Boring things.”
Me: “Boring things?”
[ha-ha-ha]
Me: “Well what are boring things, though? I’m not familiar
with this boring philosophy.”
Her: “I’m not either. I’m still tryna get used to it.”
...
She describes something strange she finds herself doing on
occasion...
Her: “I’ll be skating around Ghent. Like, I’ll stop at a
7-11, grab two 40’s, skate around and find the first bum. If the first one is
nice to me I’ll sit down and give them a 40 and I’ll have a 40 and vent to them
about my life.”
Me: “I mean, that’s really cool. They get the free 40. They
get the company. I mean, I’d be honored to be that bum.”
Back home Anthony is engaging in his regular
crank-up-the-music-workout-time. I slip on my pajamas and join him in song and
dance – jumping off the couch cushions and onto a mattress – spinning Jupiter
inside a clothes hamper – dizzy – dizzy – jumping jacks – twirling arms –
stomping up and down the stairs.
Egg Sandwich with Hummus and Tomato. Tortilla Chips with
Salsa and Guacamole. Honey Oolong Tea.
Practicing some songs at the storage unit.
There’s a medium-stakes poker game I heard about through
Mike Gombas that takes place weekly. I invite Art to join me. This is an
extremely different crowd of people than I’m used to hanging with, the
Natty-drinking sports-watching type, but the vibe is hospitable and I learn to
adapt quick. One of the dudes even has each individual card suit tattooed on
his knuckles. All of us packed in a cozy heated garage space. I sip
consistently on bottles of Killian’s and snack on Goldfish. I last for a good
while until about two hours in when I’m pushed all in on a confident pair of
tens that loses to a two pair. These guys aren’t babies; they’re men. They know
the game well and know how to work you if you let them. I enjoy the atmosphere
for a while and wait on the sidelines rooting for Art to push through but he
doesn’t make it. I spent $10 to start and bought $10 more after half time. I
wouldn’t say it’s a terrible loss. I’ll make up for it next time.
Back home. Some of the kids arrive home. Rachel and Wyatt
hang out in my bedroom while I eat a big bowl of Black Bean, Corn, and Pepper
Rice Soup. Wyatt shows me some critically acclaimed French film called Fantastic
Planet from 1973. We continue sharing recent movies we’ve discovered. I
take the two lovebirds home.
...
At “The Rephan Safe House” as Rachel so lovingly calls her
new condo abode. I get the tour. The upstairs bathroom has a mural above the
tub that gives you the impression you’re in paradise. I encourage Rachel to
pose for a phone photo op. Her and Wyatt’s room has a pleasant aesthetic to it.
She’s excited to show me her feature in this art zine that was published in
Richmond. Salvaged Artist Interview: Rachel Rephan. I get a free copy. I
can really appreciate the beauty of her world and the fact that Wyatt, who is
also a wonderfully artful companion, is a part of it makes it all that much
more beautiful. I peruse the artwork that both of them are doing and it makes
me proud to be so close to all this creativity.
Back home.
Sipping on Chocolate Milk and watching Max (2002).
The art themes in this movie are spot on.
Sleep 5 a.m.
[i] Image by me.
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