[i]☼ ○ ▬
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 face...you 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 me...in 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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