Thursday January 31 2013


Waking up at 1:33 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

Constructing a gift.

Lauren, our former roommate and former house nanny, shows up alongside James. Sharing foodies and goodies at the table.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Potato Chips. Mixed Fruit with Strawberry Yogurt. Lemon Water.

James cooks in the kitchen. I give him a hard time about his methods and there’s a playful squabble.

Me: “What do you think it’d be like if James and I were dating?”

Anthony: “The same. I would think you’d just kiss every once in a while.”

Time to go to the show at The Shaq. Pinball Locomotive’s triumphant return from a long hibernation as a band. It’s great to reunite with everyone cooped up in this cramped little warehouse space. I open up the show with a solo Musicplayer set. Then a hoppin’ folk band from Richmond called Captain Captain performs. Then Anthony’s band goes on. I accompany them on piano. It’s loud. It’s outrageous. It concludes with Kevin breaking an old viola of his in front of the crowd. A lot of jaws dropped in disbelief thinking he just destroyed the violin he was playing throughout the set. The Nerdlucks perform last and hype up the atmosphere.


Leftover Cabbage and Potato.

Afterwards, we corral at Rick’s Café. Anthony, Kelley, Sasha, James, Lauren, and Kevin are present.

Kelley’s somewhat, or mostly inebriated, and tells a story about how she playfully threatened Kevin some time ago, “I told Kevin, one time when he was being a jerk, that one day he would wake up...without an ear.”

Kevin: “She wasn’t joking.”

James interjects, “Way to Van Gogh!”

Everybody laughs.


Biscuit and Decaf Coffee.


The topic of James quitting his job at GEICO gets brought up. Our waitress, who’s used to our presence and more importantly is used to seeing James on a regular basis, says, “I’m really concerned that you quit your job.”

Back at the house. While cleaning up some dishes and stuff in the kitchen I chat with Sasha for a few minutes. She mentions how grateful she is for our group of friends.

Sleep sometime around 4:30 a.m.

[i] Image by Lauren.

[ii] Images by me.

Wednesday January 30 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Locked in a room. It feels like it’s underwater but I can’t tell. There’s a misunderstanding between a group of men that seem to have bad intentions. One of them has allowed these nasty alien-like octopus creatures to roam free. I threaten to kill every single one. I’ve got a powerful gun that pulverizes the little baddies on the spot. They come in all shapes and sizes. I take the tiny black buggers and stick them to the seats. Some of them have already suctioned themselves on the fingers of the other men. I’m protected but only because of my determination to fight.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 1 p.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Coffee Black.

Beautiful weather. Doesn’t make sense.

Getting some groceries at Kroger, but with a budget of only $14 because that’s all that’s in my pocket. Over by the dairy section I notice a little girl almost camouflaged in the shopping cart.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Rice Crackers. Lemon Water.

Practicing songs at the storage unit.

Back at home. I pull out one of my mom’s recipes for Cabbage & Potato Skillet and go at it. James Graves shows up just in time to share a plate with me. I throw in some warm Garlic Naan Bread.


Later it turns into a marker drawing get-together with Leslie and James.


Upon marking something she didn’t intend on marking Leslie reacts with disappointment.

I ask, “Why did you do that?”

Leslie: “I didn’t mean to.”

Me: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Leslie: “At least it’s fucking paved. There’s nothing worse.”


James: “Dude, we should make a horror movie about the blog. Whenever you blog about someone they disappear until a year later.”


After everyone leaves I take to the streets where the wind is wild, rushing, and rumbling in the trees. With my running shoes on I imagine the howling wind shooting me up in the sky.


Watching Night Falls on Manhattan (1997).

Sleep 5 a.m.

[i] Reactionary. Marker art by me.

[ii] Apples by James. Graxley the Giraffe by Leslie.

Tuesday January 29 2013


 Waking up with a heavy head at 1 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

Chitchatting with Leslie over the phone while I de-shell pecans on the floor with a hammer. We talk for quite a long time discussing her life this past week (or really this past year) and some of the psychological issues going on, personal stuff I guess. But she’s open to me. She’s got one of those hyper active analytical brains, which I can respond to well. Over the weekend she had her phone turned off, typical behavior I’ve come to expect from her. She assures it’s not some spiteful reaction to the world and her friends but that it has concrete reason, something about how she’s not able to function like a normal person.

“During these days when I’m gone from the world it’s too overwhelming for me to even brush my teeth.”

Eating some of Kevin’s cooking: Chicken Alfredo Noodles with Naan Bread. Honey Green Tea.

The weather is actually nice out this evening – 60-degree weather!

At the storage unit practicing some songs.

Then, at home. Playing piano with Pinball Locomotive – rehearsing for the show this Thursday.

Cod Fillets with Multi-Colored Peppers, Carrots, Onions, and Rice. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Butter (2011).

Leslie comes over bearing gifts of soap and toothbrushes for the house. In my room having playful conversation.

Me: “If I don’t know anything how can I promise you anything?”


Me: “You’re right.”

Leslie: “I know I’m right.”

Me: “You’re not always right.”

Leslie: “I know that! I don’t always wanna be right. I’m definitely not one of those people that has to be right. I just have to know why I’m wrong most of the time.”

Me: “That’s a good way that everybody should be.”


In reference to her shortness she says, “Think about how much space there’d be if everybody was my size.”


On the way downstairs we run into Darren.

Leslie announces, “It’s almost black history month.”

Darren: “Actually I read a really moving thing from a black person the other day. It was like, I hate black history month.”

Apple Pie. Beer.

Listening to music. Constructing.

Sleep 5 a.m.

[i] Chamo San.

Monday January 28 2013


Getting up at 11:15 a.m.

Instant Blueberry Oatmeal. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

It’s a dreary rainy cold day.

Grilled Cheese with Tomatoes and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio. Honey Green Tea.

One of our old delivery drivers texts me a link to a news article about a Chinese delivery driver getting robbed and shot in Chesapeake. Too close to home. After showing the news to my boss, Cecily, she explains that the owner of that particular Chinese restaurant is her brother. What a coincidence. We sometimes pass over orders to that restaurant when they’re out of our delivery range.

Slow. Slow. Slow.

Goldfish Crackers. Apple.

As I drive around delivering I keep the stereo playing anything ranging from upbeat to soft nostalgic. I’m a slave to my mind. I’d really like to learn how to discipline my thoughts, or at least redirect them to a positive and pure mindscape. I find it difficult when listening to songs relating to love or a specific emotion. I get lost. I get weak.

There is hardly a dinner rush.

Vegetable Lo Mein 

Off work.

Making Chocolate Chip Cookies with Pecan Flour. Eating a few with Almond Milk.

Watching Butter (2011).

Darren arrives home from hanging out with friends. He taps on my door to tell me about this gorgeous bar tender that’s made him all giddy inside. He asks for some advice – on the difference between being yourself or being conventional when it comes to approaching girls.

Darren: “What would you do? You’re a little older than me.”

Me: “Ha. Well I’ll just say that the older you get the clearer that line is between conventional and being yourself.”


Talks about the upcoming plans to move out of Chanticleer or not when our lease ends in May. It’s only the end of January but renewing the lease doesn’t seem to be the popular option for everyone. I don’t feel like going through the hassle of moving and am more inclined to stay but I’m going to keep on the lookout anyway.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Still from Twin Shadow's music video, Five Seconds.

Sunday January 27 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Driving in a semi-rural city I’m not familiar with. A particular area on a side street sparks my interest. I park the car. Breaking all rules of physical law I somehow manage to flip over my car and carry it with my left arm like it was a skateboard or something. Exploring the back alley of an abandoned industrial building. I admire a block of brightly colored graffiti on the wall. I figure out that where I’ve been roaming about is highly trafficked by the homeless. There’s this cliff runoff where people frequently take dumps and relieve themselves. It feeds down into a feces puddle. I do my best to avoid stepping in it but carrying my skateboard-sized car makes it difficult.   

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 11:30 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Delivering an order to the healthcare and rehabilitation center on Camelot Drive. The girl at the front desk called it in. I remember seeing her a few months ago. I remember her being really pretty. I get nervous. We make the exchange. As she’s signing the credit receipt she comments about her lack of math skills to add up the total. “It’s okay,” I say. We exchange smiles and that’s it. Until next time...

Toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich. Goldfish. Honey Green Tea.

Snapping the peas on the down time and playing poker on my phone.

It’s about 30 degrees outside. And when night falls it only gets colder.

Darren’s here to work the dinner shift. An order for Davenport Lane is sitting on the counter. He keeps raving about some girl who lives there that gave him a “look” last time he delivered to that house. I know who he’s talking about because she’s a regular.

Darren: “C’mon. Let me take this one.”

Me: “Dude, I know who this girl is. She’s like 40 years old and she lives with her boyfriend! Why do you care?”

Darren: “It doesn’t matter how old she is.”

Me: “Okay. I’ll let you take this order...on one condition.”

Darren: “Okay. Fine. What?”

Me: “You have to give her that ‘look’ back.”


He texts me later with disappointment, “It was a guy.”

Asian Pear and an Apple.

It’s getting down to the last hour. I take my final order to Retreat Court. A kind girl in grey sweatpants, a green Trix cereal t-shirt, and glasses answers the door. She hands me a five-dollar bill as a tip and with gratitude thanks me, “I really appreciate you coming out here.” After the exchange, and without even thinking about it, we share that “look” Darren and I were talking about earlier. You can feel it. It’s just like an extra second or two of a stare. I always get giddy after moments like. 

Off work and back home.

Fried Shrimp with Broccoli, Carrots, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Skype chat with Aysena. We keep getting disconnected.

There’s some emotional tension on the bleakness of things ever working out between us

Ays: “I’ve seen the future. It will hurt us.”

Me: “You can’t know the future.”

She holds up Leo Tolstoy’s A Confession, a book she’s currently reading.

Me: “What does Tolstoy say about this?”

Ays: “It says what is the truth of a life. He says when you are smart...when you are reading are near to think like the whole life is evil. He says that it’s maybe true. Talk to simple people who work and just take care of their know just simple stuff who don’t think about truth of a life.”

Me: “I am not simple.”

Ays: “You’re not a simple man! You’re so abnormal. You’re so...James Robert Smith.”

Me: “What about you? Are you a simple woman?”

Ays: “I’m not strong. I’m not strong at all. I can ruin something and don’t think about it. I’m just a little woman that don’t think about anything...just think about happiness.”

Me: “You are not alone. Everybody thinks about their happiness.”

Hot Chocolate.

Sleep 3:30 a.m.

[i] Bengal.

Saturday January 26 2013


Waking up at 11 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Driving around an aftermath of a winter wonderland. Icicles melting underneath parked cars and gutters. Cold white blankets covering everything. The streets, slushy and bumpy.

Hard Boiled Egg. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Honey Green Tea.

I don’t want to say that my little meeting with Margot last night screwed me up but it’s definitely got my mind swimming in a strange soupy mess of ugly feelings. That’s the best way to describe these feelings: ugly...and bittersweet. I’ll at least say it was nice to see her but it was not good to see her. I’m not hopped up on her in anyway. I’m fine without her. I’m fine on my own, doing my own thing, living my own life. I’m not involved in her life anymore. Obviously I’ve moved on from this relationship months ago and I’ve even had my share in other relationships since we broke up. I guess I just really didn’t want to hear about the sex tabloids. Some of the things she said last night reminded me of how disconnected we are. Of course we saw eye to eye emotionally, romantically, and sexually. But we’ve never been on the same page philosophically or mentally. She’s destined to be a part of a different breed than I. But none of this matters or relates to me right now. It was just a brief flashback to what was. Most things fade away eventually, some faster than others. 


5 is the magic number today. Almost every customer I’ve delivered to today has given me $5. Oh yeah, I’m rollin’ in it. It feels good to reap the benefits of my job.

The fantasy world I entertain in my head is more menacing than the actual reality of things.

Off work and back home. Darren and James try to persuade me to join them at Mermaids. I decline.

Me: “Why would I want to spend money to watch a girl shake her ass?”

Tofu with Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Fortune cookie says, “The saints are the sinners who keep on trying.”

Watching The Vanishing (1993).

Organizing music files – building playlists.

Darren and James arrive home after a few hours at Mermaid’s. Both of them, but mainly Darren, are wobbling around in my bedroom. An all out revenge ensues via Darren when he realizes that Kevin is asleep in his bedroom. For all the times that Kevin brings all his friends over and acts obnoxious, Darren on a whim runs out into the hallway yelling and hooting at the top of his lungs and banging on Kevin’s door.

Eventually Darren, after talking his head off about moving to Thailand and marrying Devon, resigns to his room. James and I continue a chat about things...

James: “I don’t even post stuff on Facebook anymore; I just ‘like’ stuff.”

Me: “We’ve been trained to communicate to the masses as opposed to a person.”


Me: “It’s an illusion of importance, of connection.”

James: “Over indulgence in self-importance.”

Hot Chocolate.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Unicorns. Image source unknown.

Friday January 25 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Fulfilling my cleaning duties in a bathroom. Spraying a green chemical everywhere, on the toilet seat, on the sinks, on the floors, etc. A fairly attractive girl that I don’t know too well lends a helping hand.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 1:30 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

The weather reports are calling it Winter Storm Kahn but it’s definitely going to snow tonight.

Digging into some research on how to insulate my storage unit – getting lost in a sea of information.

The S N O W arrives. It’s tenderly quiet outside. Snow has a mysterious beauty to it.

I trek over to the clubhouse to run on the treadmill for a few miles.

It’s not surprising that even though I’m not scheduled to work tonight I get called into China Wok. So here I am traversing around the icy sludgy roads of Virginia Beach at a cautious pace of 25 miles per hour delivering Chinese food. I observe a few idiots swerve off the side of the road. I myself manage to survive a few 180-degree spins. The trick is to take the turns slowly and carefully. The tips are in the extreme. It’s either $8 to $10 tips or straight up stiffs.


Meanwhile Margot calls me while I’m maneuvering around. I was supposed to help her move some things from her condo into a new place. But she locked herself out of her condo. She’s upset because it becomes quite an ordeal, as the condo office doesn’t even have an extra key to let her in so she has to call an overpriced locksmith. It’s weird I haven’t even heard her voice in so long. It’s normally like this though; whenever she’s in trouble or needs moral support I get a ring.

Off work.

I got invited to hang out with Margot for a little bit. I drive over to her condo. She only has a few more days till she officially moves out. I drink up a few beers in her fridge that she wants rid of, a Shock Top and a Hoegaarden. I was already informed she’s moving into a house off Shore Drive with dudes, which is kind of strange. As I sip on the beers I’m bombarded with a tale of her hooking up with a guy that she plans on moving in with. I act solemn and uninterested. She notices. Her attitude proves she’s not hopped up on me whatsoever. I didn’t necessarily expect her to be nor do I really want her to be. But I definitely don’t care to hear about her sex life. There’s something disturbing about it. I know we’re both way past this kind of stuff by now but it just makes me uncomfortable to even imagine these kinds of things.

She insists on hearing about any stories I may have.

Her: “C’mon. Tell me some juicy stories.”

Me: “Um. I really don’t have any. Not since the last time I saw you.”

Condescendingly she says, “Oh that’s unfortunate.”


Walking around in the bedroom.

Me: “Man, I’ve spent a lot of nights here.”

Her: “So have I.”

Me: “Duh.”


She gets all googly-eyed at some point and draws out her arms for a hug. We embrace.

Her: “God, it’s weird seeing you.”

Me: “I know. Same here. I miss you sometimes.”


She’s off to visit one of her girlfriends at work. I walk her outside. I scrape the snow off her car. She rolls down the window and gives me a genuine smile.

Her: “It was good to see you.”

Me: “Good to see you as well.”

Back home.

Watching Escape from Alcatraz (1979).

Hot and Sour Soup with Crunchy Noodles. Creamy Polenta with Spinach and Carrots.

Sleep 3:30 a.m.

[i] Image by me.

Thursday January 24 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Involved in a disturbing scenario where a friend of mine is diagnosed with diabetes, but strangely she got it from having sex with an AIDS infected partner. Some of us are trying our best to comfort her in bed. Other people are getting sick.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 2 p.m.

Researching. Browsing. Chatting.

Sharing the kitchen with Kevin. Once again, as he does every day, he gives me a hard time on my selection of lunch.

Kevin: “Let me guess. An egg sandwich!”

Me: “Yeah so what?”

He points to the plastic container of yellow grape tomatoes I have out and asks, “What is that?”

Me: “Tomatoes!”

Kevin: “That is so hipster.”

Me: “Just because I eat tomatoes with my sandwiches I’m a hipster?”


After I finish preparing lunch Kevin asks with a stupid grin on his face, “So did you just wake up one day and decide I’m gonna be a hipster for the next ten years?”

I ignore him.

Kevin: “Seriously. Is that how it happened?”

I continue to ignore him and march upstairs.

Egg Sandwich with Tomatoes and Mayonnaise. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Mixed Fruit with Vanilla Greek Yogurt. Lemon Water.

Watching Taking Shelter (2011).

I try my hand at poker with sharks at a house off Rosemont. I went there once before with Art. He’s there with Mike Gombas and a bunch of other dudes I don’t know well. I make it through the first half but my chips trickle down after the second half and eventually put me out of the game.

Back home. My jacket is saturated with smoke from the game.

Beans, Tomatoes, Chard Greens, Carrots, and Quinoa with Asiago Cheese Bread.

At the storage unit tweaking with effects pedals and playing songs. The temperature outside is relentlessly cold with it only mildly warmer inside this space. The convection heater I bought last week just isn’t cutting it. This room has too many openings and drafts.


Hot Chocolate.

Sleep 5 a.m.

[i] Inverted Earth.

Wednesday January 23 2013


☼ ○ ▬

I’m a lonesome hermit living in one of those old conversion vans parked in the middle of a field. I have special skills at making elixirs. A good friend of mine sends me these Yakutian farm workers to do business with. They really like tomato sandwiches so I prepare a whole batch every time to appease them. One of the workers steps into the van, puts his arm around me, and encourages me to join him in a traditional Yakutian hop-dance. I don’t really understand how it works but I try to follow the quick movements.

▬ ○ ☼

Awakening at about 1:30 p.m.

Instant Oatmeal with Blueberries and Milk. Coffee with Honey and Milk.

Errands. Filing a claim at the post office for not delivering a package I sent to Russia back in October – getting my postage fee money back. Thrift store visit with Elliott. Trader Joe’s.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Rice Crackers. Mixed Fruit with Vanilla Greek Yogurt.

Watching Shotgun Stories (2007).


Playing songs on guitar.

The temperature outside has hit the high 20’s. It’s freezing cold. I didn’t make time to run today before the clubhouse closed. I ask Leslie if I can use their little fitness room at her house.


Over there. Running about three miles.


In her pristine kitchen eating some dinner I brought over with me. Spicy Teriyaki Mixed Beans, Chard Greens, Green Beans, Tomatoes, and Quinoa. She offers a slice of Cornbread.

We engage in a discussion of various topics. How important it is for her to try and forge a friendship before she dates someone again. How smarter I feel I’ve gotten at reading people and figuring out how suitable they are to me. 


Up in her bedroom. Getting into a musical mood – taking turns playing songs on the Mac.
I take notice to her constant movement around the room. Restless. Sitting still isn’t easy.

Me: “You’re always looking for something. Or putting things away. Or pulling things out.”

Humorously she replies with some kind of sexual comment.


I’m trying to get a handle on this friendship between Leslie and I. I don’t fully understand how she thinks and her philosophy. So far though, amidst her storytelling, a common theme is honesty. She’s a fan of brutal honesty.

Back home.

Sleep 5 a.m.

[i] Image by me.

Tuesday January 22 2013


Waking up bright and early in the morning at 7:30 a.m. Gotta be at court for my warrant in debt against my former roommate. Darren tags along since he was a witness to the signing of the debt agreement contract.

Eating Strawberry Toaster Pastries on the way there with Orange Juice.

Waiting in the courtroom. The roommate doesn’t show and so is given a default judgment. Now I have an official judgment. And now I can file for a wage garnishment.


Discussing with Darren in the car ride back home about my options to obtain the debt. Unless I work out an agreement with the roommate, filing a wage garnishment means its still going to take six months to a year until I get the debt in full.

Darren: “Dude the world is fucked up!”

Back to sleep around 10:45 a.m.

☼ ○ ▬ ▬ ○ ☼

Getting up at 3 p.m.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Lemon Water.

Filling out paperwork and researching.


Peaches, Bananas, Oranges, and Apples.

Organizing music.


Barbecue Garlic Salmon with Peppers, Onions, Tomatoes, Green Beans, and Quinoa.

I drive over to Leslie’s house off Little Neck. It’s been about a week since we hung out. Up in her room I listen to her recant story after story while I fidget with these hundred-year-old silver dollars and whatever nick-nacks she has lying around. She’s notorious for going on tangents. I make fun and try to keep her on track. I find myself empathizing with her emotionally and in return offering my own stories relevant to exes.


Before I leave she hands me a small Ziploc bag of Sweet & Spicy Pecans for me to sample, as well as a small handwritten note card with the recipe on how to make them (she told me about this secret recipe before when I obtained all those pecans from North Carolina). As I’m walking to my car I notice how quiet of a night it is. As well it’s freezing outside. But the night’s silence is powerful. I take it in for a moment and then hop into the car. On the drive home I eat all the Pecans with a few swigs of Almond Milk.

Back home.

Chomping on Popcorn while chatting with Aysena on Skype.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Image by me.

[ii] HOWDY. Marker gift from Leslie.

Monday January 21 2013


12:22 p.m. waking up.

Instant Oatmeal with Blueberries and Milk. Coffee with Honey and Milk.

I grab Anthony and we go over to Josiah’s apartment to help move a couch, a record player, a futon, and a piano to the storage unit. A woman neighbor of his watches us. She’s wearing this awesome Def Leppard t-shirt.


Then we stop at Moe’s for guitar strings. In the car with Anthony we talk...

In regards to being single and learning to be emotionally independent he asks, “So how does it feel being your own best friend?”

I explain how for some reason this past month I’ve been having stronger sexual withdrawal than usual. But yeah being my own best friend is a good way to put it.

Back home.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Finishing the Sniper movie.

Having printer problems. It keeps saying “incorrect printer cartridge” even though it’s a fairly new ink cartridge. After troubleshooting for at least an hour I give up. I’m using a remanufactured ink cartridge and that seems to be the only problem. So much for trying to save a few bucks by getting a generic product. Now I have to buy a new one and spend more money that originally intended.

Running a few miles at the clubhouse.

Mixed Fruit.

Rehearsing some songs with Anthony’s band – filling in on keys.

Beans, Peppers, Onions, Mushrooms, Carrots, Pineapple, and Rice.

Catching up on some writing.

Watching Red (2008).


Sleep just before 3 a.m.

[i] Office Space Smash Printer Scene.

Sunday January 20 2013


Getting out of bed around 11 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Quinoa and Black Bean Tortilla Chips with Salsa and Avocado. Honey Green Tea. Banana.

The day drags a little but eventually the orders pick up at night.

During the evening down time I observe two parents treating their two boys to dinner in the restaurant. It’s apparent they just came from the kid’s basketball game. The dad gives them critical feedback and uses some of the soy sauce packets to describe plays. He’s very passionate about it. The boy listening is also passionate. 

Tofu with Broccoli, Snow Peas, Carrots, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Back home.

Shooting the shit with Darren about that, that, and this.

Blackberry Pie and Milk.

Watching Sniper: Reloaded (2011).

Sleep 3-ish a.m.

[i] Chris Ashworth.

Saturday January 19 2013


Waking up around 11 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

It’s not so freezing out today.

Mesquite Almonds. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Honey Green Tea.

Business is good.


I’ve got an old school gospel hip-hop playlist jamming through the speakers. Thinking about a lot of deep shit while driving around the city on delivery autopilot.

Very Garlic-y Vegetable Lo Mein.

Off work and back home.

Watching The Thing (2011).

A bowl of Cheerios with Brown Sugar and Milk.

Sleep 3 a.m.

[i] James Paick.

Friday January 18 2013


Waking up at 11:09 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok. I don’t usually work on Fridays but Darren asked me to cover for him so he could spend the day fixing his car.

It’s uncomfortably cold out but the sun is blazing enough to create oven-like warmth inside my car.

Peanut Butter Sandwich. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

The deliveries move slowly.


Researching things and playing poker on my phone during the down time.

The older I get the more aware I become of the intricate transparency in other people – how easy it is to read people, to understand their behavior. While driving around I find myself focusing in on certain persons in my life, looking past my apparent fondness or lack of fondness in them, and seeing who they really are.


Along with that observation I’ve been noticing the sexual urges have been more prevalent lately. Not having a girlfriend or lover at hand is teaching my body great discipline. But really I just feel like an unsatisfied baby. 

Mesquite Almonds.

Elliott and Wesley accompany me on my last delivery for the night.

I explain, “I’m not a bad delivery guy. I’m a nice guy. You be nice to me. I’ll be nice to you in return.”

Back home. Unwinding. Chowing down on dinner: Egg, Broccoli, Snow Peas, and Rice in Brown Sauce.

Watching The Queen of Versailles (2012).


Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Vince Contarino.

Thursday January 17 2013

City of Lies by Lian Tanner.[i]

☼ ○ ▬

Congregating inside a small convenient shop with Anthony, Kevin, Richie, and a few others. At one point people decide to start trashing the place, typical behavior of the LIVE crew. I choose to be a bystander and continue sitting on a stool during all the commotion. I don’t take part because I know the security cameras are watching. I follow the troupe outside and we jet it out of there. Later, I’m walking around in a big building where some kind of youth convention is taking place. It’s understood a gang of buff dudes who owned the convenient shop are after anyone involved in the destruction of the property. Or maybe they’re in the mafia. But either way they have no mercy and kill off all my friends. Even though I’m not guilty of anything, I’m still an accomplice. I run down corridors and hallways. I locate a fairly busy public restroom where Aaron Long is standing guard. He offers me a hideaway behind one of the stalls. I crouch down behind the toilet with my blue baby pillow. Grossed out by the urine droplets on the side of the toilet seat. A few of the mafia men search the bathroom. One of them partially recognizes my face. They barge into the stall and question me. I pretend to be drugged out and play everything off.

I talk slowly and casually, “Uhhh. I’m not who you’re looking for. My name’s Nick.”

I offer a handshake but the gesture is not well received. However they seem to believe my act and run off. I’m safe.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up around 1 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.


Practicing some songs.

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Goldfish Crackers. Honey Green Tea.

Watching The Queen of Versailles (2012).

Rehearsing a little bit at the storage unit. Then to the gym for a two-mile run. Then to the house to scoop up Kevin with his violin.

Orange. Apple.

At Wing King, a sports bar and grill off the boulevard near Rosemont. Mike Gombas invited me to play a gig with him. I open. The whole gang is here: James, Kevin, Anthony, Kelley, Will, Sasha, Richie, and others. I attempt a few new melodies and covers. Anthony accompanies me with harmonica on the “All I Want is You” song and Kevin accompanies me with violin on the “Spinball Dopamotive” song. All around it’s a hearty full range set that I can be proud of but also see a little room for improvement.


Chowing down on Buffalo Shrimp with Celery, Fries, and a PBR tallboy.


Receiving a few compliments from barflies who liked my performance.

Man at the bar: “That was very good. I don’t listen to music or know a lot about it but I know when I like what I hear.”


I bring the little bit of leftovers from my dinner plate to the guys. Immediately everyone snatches what they can from the plate as if there was a famine and they hadn’t eaten for days.

Me: “Goodness! You guys are just a bunch of moochers.”

James: “You’re a moocher with no future!”


Mike and Chris Kendrick perform. I sit down at the table with Kevin, Will, Sasha, and a girlfriend of hers.

Will: “It’s a convoluted web of life.”

Back home.

Milk and Chocolate.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] City of Lies by Lian Tanner.

Wednesday January 16 2013


☼ ○ ▬

A story of a father’s daughter that has an emotional instability caused from an inadequate relationship with her father. She lives in an expensive fancy house but chooses to hustle out on the corner attempting to hitch hike. I drive by her occasionally entertaining the idea of picking her up so I can listen to her story and help in any way I can. Somehow I’ve started a friendship with her father. He wants me to help find her across the field. We go in search. Marching through the thick grass. Then, a playground. I find her hiding inside the structure. She knows of me and there’s already an understood connection that’s half romantic and half altruistic. But she’s got a lot of inner turmoil that’s hard to crack. We both stay hidden.

I inform her, “Your father is looking for you.”

She replies, “I know.”

“In fact he’s right over there.” I point through the plastic window at an area where her dad is pacing in the distance and looking in the opposite direction. I try to encourage her to reach out to him but she seems reluctant.

Me: “It’s okay. You don’t have to go out there.”

I guess she starts feeling sympathetic for her father having to be stressed out about her so she decides to go to him, “I can’t leave him like this.” She runs toward her dad and reconnects in his arms. 

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up just before 1 p.m.

Skype chat with Aysena.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Yesterday I got a letter from the producer of Judge Judy, the infamous court TV show, inviting me to take my small claims case on the show. I already have a court date set in Virginia Beach next week over my former roommate’s debt owed to me. But being on Judge Judy the case can be arbitrated and I can get my money in a timely manner. So I guess we’ll see about that later.

At the storage unit practicing songs for a gig tomorrow.

Spaghetti with Onions and Puscanetta Sauce. Salad. Garlic Parmesan Bread.

Watching Red Lights (2012).


Sleep around 4 a.m.

[i] Esther Deer (Princess White Deer). 1927.

Tuesday January 15 2013


Waking up around 1 p.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

Today is get-stuff-done day.

Running errands.

Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Black Bean Tortilla Chips with Avocado and Salsa.

Watching Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (2011).

Running a few miles on the treadmill at the gym.

Tuna Steak in a Salad with a Croissant.

Anthony asked me to play piano in his band, Pinball Locomotive. With Richie, Kevin, and Anthony rehearsing through songs in the living room.

Anthony: “It’s really nice to see a friend of mine doing what they do naturally.”

At the storage unit practicing some songs on guitar. Relearning The Cure’s “Close to Me” and Weezer’s “Susanne”.

Back home.

Sugar Cookies with Chocolate Frosting and Milk.

Finishing the movie.

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

[i] Screenshot from MI: Ghost Protocol.

Monday January 14 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Hanging from a scaffold, high up on a story at least above 100 floors. I’m not even sure I understand the mechanics of how this thing is keeping me from falling. It almost seems like I’m simply floating. Something bad is about to happen, something apocalyptic. A bomb goes off, or an explosion without flames. The building immediately falls apart. I feel my stomach push up in my throat and now I’m just falling, falling, falling. There’s a platform hovering underneath me that I manage to plant my feet down onto. As soon as it hits the ground below I hop up in hopes of softening my fall. It works because I’m still alive and without broken bones. I locate some of my buddies and we congregate at the top of another building where it’s understood is the only safe place. All of a sudden the building starts to swerve left and right. So we have to hold on tight and prevent ourselves from flying off the side. It’s terribly unnerving. Part of me knows I’m dreaming and I almost let go cause I know I’ll just wake up upon impact. But I don’t. I persevere through the swinging feeling and hang on with all my might.

▬ ○ ☼

Alarm goes off at 11:05 a.m.

Oranges and a Banana.

All day shift at China Wok.

Elliott drops in for a visit to eat his usual General Tso’s Chicken.

Not one single delivery order has come through and it’s been almost two hours. I delegate myself to put the fried noodles into individual baggies. I’ve found a certain satisfaction to these kinds of tedious tasks. I really enjoy it.

Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Drizzly rainy night but still gratefully warm. The orders finally pick up around 5 o’clock.

Hot and Sour Soup with Fried Noodles and Broccoli.

Delivering an order on Wolfsnare. I notice a sign on the storm door that says, “Savannah, Let’s play monopoly. You got the ‘Go Straight To Your Room’ card. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.00. My inability to walk in your room is going to lead to child abuse. Please clean. < 3 Mom."

The mom answers the door.

Leslie accompanies me at The Wok during the last hour. I’m grateful to be hanging out with her again. Her mind is extremely active all the time with clever and nifty ideas.

Back home. She follows along. Hanging out in my bedroom allowing her to browse through my shoeboxes of old photos, ranging from my baby years and on through my high school years. All the pictures are organized into little green folder covers with the word memories printed in gold on the front.

Me: “I can’t believe you’re going through all my memories right now.”


She drives us to Harris Teeter as I was in need of milk. Pulling back into the neighborhood. She puts on this wispy folk-pop album by Blind Pilot. Parked at the end of our court. The song serenading. I observe her sink down into the driver seat and stretch her legs straight up, a funny position to relax in. I try to mimic this pose in the passenger seat. After laughing at ourselves I comment, “This is a pretty moment. Not just the music. I mean the song makes up for at least 75% of it though.”


I’m curious to see where this friendship goes. It’s been a slow and sporadic progression. Romantic associations only teeter on the tip of my thoughts but nothing substantial enough to identify with this. There’s still a lot of mystery to her but I see many great character traits and genuine not-so-fake perspectives.

Cheerios with Brown Sugar and Milk.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Kilian Eng.

Sunday January 13 2013


Waking up at 11:36 a.m.

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

Mom and Jimmy stop by for a last hurrah before they head off back to Florida. It’s terribly busy during this hour so I don’t have any time to sit down with them...just enough time to give my mom one last warm embrace.

Peanut Butter Croissant and English Muffin. Goldfish Crackers. Honey Green Tea.

I text my mom to tune into the 1920’s network on the radio cause I thought she’d like the old timey sounds. Entertaining the idea of learning and performing one of the songs we hear together.

This weather is shockingly nice. 70 degrees in January!

Eating up these Oranges my mom brought me from Florida.

It’s a great day for business too. I hardly have any free moments to sit down. Just keep moving. Keep driving. Keep knocking. Keep hustling.

Fried Shrimp with Broccoli, Onions, Carrots, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Off work.

I meet up with James at Rick’s Café. It’s become a monthly (or bi-monthly) tradition to have these one-on-one late night meetings. We share a heavy childhood past and have been through the thick and thin together.


James comments on how long it’s been since he’s been to Rick’s, which we come to find out wasn’t really that long ago, maybe a week or two, but by his definition is too long.

Me: “It’s like when you have a girlfriend and you have sex on a regular basis. Going to Rick’s is like your sex. And if you don’t have Rick’s then you lose your confidence.”

James: “It’s the source of my power.”


A while ago Becca had told me she used the word nostalgic to describe who I was to a friend of hers.

James: “Heh-heh.”

Me: “Yeah and that’s what she used to describe me. I was thinking about that and I’m almost too nostalgic for my own good. It’s not that I hold onto things. It’s just—”

James: “You wanna savor it.”

Me: “Yeah! It’s about savoring. I want to savor everything.”

James: “She should’ve used the word savory to describe you.”



Helping identifying that timeframe when one is single and alone.

Me: “You’re in the dark ages. This is what we call the dark ages.”

We get distracted with the news on the TV about a poodle shaved in such a way that it frightened an old lady and she informed the police a lion was on the loose. After laughing that off for a bit...I lift my mug of decaffeinated Coffee (or brown water as our waitress humorously referred to it as) and invite James in a toast, “Here’s to the dark ages.” He raises his water glass in agreement.


Me: “We’ve been here before.”


Sharing our worries and concerns about our individual futures.

James: “It’s my fear of the next steps. Like, if I stay with GEICO the next steps are like, settling down, and then I’m a slave, and then I die.”

Me: “You’re just gonna be a speck!”

James: “Maybe I’m just having a pre-mid-life crisis or something.”

Me: “That’s a good way to put it. I feel like I’m having that too.”


At some point Leslie waltzes in with my pants. She had offered to mend them about two weeks ago and finally returned them. The real issue though, at least for me, was her disappearance, which she tends to do sometimes, like turn off her phone (or at least put it on silent and avoid it altogether), and tap out from everything. I hadn’t heard from her since then. She joins us at the table.

Me: “This is the first time I’ve seen you this year!”


Leslie: “I’ve decided that my life’s calling is to be a hermit crab realtor...cause those fuckers are always changing their homes and somebody’s gotta show them new shells.”

Me: “Wow.”


Back home.

Ciabatta Bread and Chocolates.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Image source unknown.

Saturday January 12 2013


☼ ○ ▬

Running through a series of hallways and corridors as part of an obstacle course game. I lose my partner somewhere along the way and venture outside to peruse the streets. Cars parked on the curb. I select a nice looking sports car and hijack it. But I don’t turn on the ignition yet. I take a few minutes to enjoy the thrilling moment. Meanwhile the owner returns to his car to find me inside. I play it off like we knew each other and I was waiting for him this whole time. I guess he plays along too.

▬ ○ ☼

Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

At the restaurant counter taking a lady’s order that, by the attire, I can tell works at a nearby office. She smiles big and compliments my Edgar Allan Poe t-shirt. She’s got a pleasant ora about her that’s really attractive.

Mom shows up. It’s her last day in Virginia Beach. She accompanies me on a delivery run. Peeling a Florida Orange for me while I drive. It’s nice to be spending so much frequent time with her. I hate that it has to be rare.


Jimmy comes to pick her up and they go off to have dinner with Jimmy’s brother.

Nuts. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup. Honey Green Tea.

Work is steady and the tips are generally high. I can’t complain too much.

It’s an unusually foggy and misty night making it a blur.

Bosc Pear.

Off work and back home

Broccoli, Snow Peas, Egg, and Rice in Brown Sauce. Peroni Beer.

Fortune cookie says, “Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired.”

Mom and Jimmy hang out with me in my bedroom. Art just got off work and joins us. To the soundtrack of Jimmy past out snoring in my bed the rest of us talk about this and that.
Art brings up something that goes along with the long-distance relationship theme and the problems associated with it – connections can’t grow stronger and the more physical time apart the more disconnect there is.

Filling up on Oranges and finishing a movie.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Image by me.