Wednesday December 5 2012


☼ ○ ▬

Involved in a movie sequence that seems real enough. I knock on the bedroom door of my wife (for some reason she has her own room). A heavyset fairly ugly man answers the door and demands that I leave them alone. My wife seems to want the same. They shut the door in my face. Filled with rage and suspicion, but rightful suspicion because it’s understood they are having an affair, I shoot down the door with a shotgun. I step in to find the ugly fat man on the floor, not dead but injured from bullet wounds. Almost immediately my wife picks up a knife and threatens to cut me if I attempt to hurt him further or even talk to him.

“Okay. Okay,” I say with a little bit of nervousness. “I promise I won’t hurt him. Just let me talk to him.”

She’s pretty adamant about this and tosses some strange bow and arrow gun in my direction. It lands on the floor. I approach the man struggling below me. He reaches over into an opening in the floor and digs his hands under a pile of clothes in desperate search for something.

I mockingly ask, “What? Are you looking for your inhaler?”

I guess it’s understood he’s sick or has some kind of chronic mental illness.    

▬ ○ ☼

Getting out of bed around 1:30 p.m.

Ezekiel 4:9 Toast with Butter. Coffee with Sugar and Milk.

A while ago Elisa, a former roommate, dipped out of Virginia beach without paying her rent to which she was in the hole over $1300 to me, and which I covered her on a monthly basis. I tried to be as reasonable as I could and now it’s escalated to the point where I’m forced to start a small claims case around it. The problem is she’s moved to San Diego. All I need is an address to get the summons served. Darren helps me investigate online in attempt to find out more information.

Me: “Man, this is fun. We should start a private investigator business.”

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

James Graves walks into my room and says he’s going to take a nap in the living room until its time to go to Rick’s.


Leslie shows up. We make things in my room and brush up on the happenings over the past few days.


Learning a new word...

Boondoggle: (noun) work or activity that is wasteful or pointless but lends the appearance of having value. (verb) waste $/time on ‘such’ projects.

Feeling exceptionally jittery and an increase in appetite. My high intake of caffeine today is the culprit.

Me: “Dangit! I wish I could just enjoy one cup of coffee without feeling like this.”

Downstairs. Gathered at the table with Darren, James, and Leslie engaging in conversations about the semantics of sex.

White Fish with Salsa, Broccoli, Carrots, Onions, and Rice. Thai Tea.

And here I am at Rick’s Café with Elliott, Michelle, James, Tristan, Darren, and Leslie. Puns seem to be the theme of the night. A game of Props – taking objects from the table and figuring out different ideas each can be used. This induces lots of laughter.

Enjoying a slice of Apple Pie.


Tristan: “When I was a kid it was all tornado drills and social studies.”

Back home. Researching.

Going for a run around the neighborhood – lurking the streets of Hilltop with classical ringing in my ears.

Popcorn and Dark Chocolate.

Watching Vice documentary on hitch hiking.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Bengal.

[ii] Image by me.

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