Sunday December 2 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Exploring a rundown part of town where some sort of arts festival is in progress. Walking by jewelry artisans with their little stands. A rugged man with dreads recognizes my displacement out here in this part of town and asks, “What is your kind doing around here?” I don’t bother talking to him and I continue on my path. I meet up with my mother.                                 

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up earlier with an agenda at 11 a.m.


Going for a short jog around the neighborhood – it’s the perfect weather for this, just the right ratio of sunshine and clouds, just the right amount of breeze.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Lentil Spread Sandwich with Tomato. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

During the down time at work I vigorously snap the peas while losing fake money at poker on my phone.

Business picks up drastically towards the early evening.

Anthony texts me a quote from that book, The Book of Disquiet, “My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tambours I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.

Delivering an order to Terrace Avenue. I remember delivering here before but it was some time ago. I knock for a straight ten minutes, attempt to call the customer, and even toss a few pebbles at the second floor window, but no answer. Something feels strange about this. There’s a car parked in the driveway and I can see a few lights on in the house. I wait it out another ten minutes hoping the guy maybe just fell asleep or was stuck on the toilet or something. I call my boss and explain the situation. She tells me to come back.


It’s been at least an hour or so. I decide to call 9-1-1 just in case. I mean what if this guy passed out or something bad happened to him inside his house. I might as well be saving his life.

Vegetable Lo Mein.

Off work.

As soon as I get home I’m told the internet’s been down since 4 o’clock. I troubleshoot it myself and stay on the phone with a nice lady representative at Cox named Yvonne. Unfortunately nothing gets resolved and it’s going to require a technician, but of course that won’t happen until tomorrow. So this house will be without the internet over night. Oh no. What ever shall we do?


Anthony barges into my room, “So are you ready?”

Me: “For what?”

Anthony: “To go to the Friends School!”

Me: “Dude I just got off work and I had to deal with bullshit for 30 minutes. I just wanna sit here, without internet, alone, in the dark first.”


I decide to dummy check the cords later and magically the internet starts working again. No chance of disconnection.

Enjoying five Chocolate Chip Cookies with Milk over Daydream Nation (2010).

It’s after 1:30 a.m. but never too late for a basketball date. Anthony and I grab two basketballs and shoot around on the Friends School courts. One hoop is missing bolts and tilts to the left; the other is mounted in upside down. We choose the latter. We had been talking about reconnecting for a while now and we’re finally doing it, and at our favorite spot. Hoop dreams. Our dreams. Our visions. Bouncing the ball persistently against the concrete while we juggle question marks. Recent tragic events have sparked intense retrospection about the direction of our lives. We seek clarity. We psychoanalyze the characters in our lives. We don’t ever stop trying to understand.


Anthony: “Cause I believe that there is transformative powers in love. And I believe that there are healing powers and restorative powers that love can bring about. How would you feel if...let’s say five years down the road you meet her and you can just look at her can tell something inside her has changed.”

Me: “But honestly, dude. I just don’t see her changing ever. In all the years that I’ve known her even the time that I spent apart from her hoping that she might get the drift. She still doesn’t get it. She’ll always, always hold things against me.”


Talking about the time frame when single men and women who are hitting their 30’s feel that mild pressure of getting married or settling down.

Anthony: “I think at some point when the norm is what you are not it definitely makes you question what you are doing.”


Me: “I think for all of us we kinda look at our family life and what is it about my family life that was wrong and what can I avoid next time? I mean I turned out alright but that was only because I had a really awesome mom and my dad stuck around.”

Anthony: “And you know the thing that really scares me the most though is that every generation says these things and so every generation gets it wrong a little bit.”

Me: “When do we get it completely right?”

Anthony: “Yeah. And I don’t think we ever do...but I’ve seen parents raise their kids the way that I would like. I’ve seen examples...”


Anthony: “There’s still so much more left. Think about it. Even you. You’re almost ten years older than theory only a third of your life or have only finished a third of the trip. Think about that. And that’s exciting. That’s scary. That’s sad. It’s fun. It’s hopeful. It’s—it’s all those things.”


Taking the long way back to the house – passing behind the Lutheran church. I noticed a man sleeping soundly under a blanket in the thick of the leaves.

Me: “Hey did you catch that homeless man back there?”

Anthony replies, “He wasn’t homeless.”


We pause in front of the new colossal power lines they just installed this past year. Looking further you can see all the other lines connected. They’re rust-colored and ominous looking.

Anthony: “It makes me think of like...some European country a little bit after a war and they just left a bunch of stuff up but didn’t tear it down yet and they’re still rebuilding."

Me: “Yeah. I know"

Anthony: “It was part of the war and we’re living with the remains.”

Me: “Oh we definitely had a war here. [Ha]”

He smiles and says, “I missed that one.”

Me: “The War of 2012.”

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Mark Portillo.

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