Sunday June 30 2013

Broccoli House. Brock Davis.[i]

☼ ○ ▬

A man with hidden malicious intent is delegated a youth leader for a class of students. I'm one of them. He assigns everyone to write an essay but I don't have an idea for a prompt. As I ride an electric scooter down the street I consider using a question to start off the paper: What if oil and water did mix? I would build on the answer and find symbolism with the current state of political affairs. Eventually, I get lost in a neighborhood with an intricate system of walking paths. The tree roots protrude through cracks in the asphalt making it difficult for me to get by on my scooter. I pass five Mexicans napping on lawn chairs in somebody's yard. The scooter gives out and I'm forced to walk with it. I find a well-shaded boardwalk next to a harbor where other people have come to relax, drink a coffee, or read a book. I situate myself on a bench but fear some of the nearby street kids might try to rob me. 

▬ ○ ☼


Waking up at 11ish a.m.


White Peaches.


All day shift at China Wok.


Ahhh. I love cloudy days like this. No rain. No sun. Just nice.


Banana.


A guy in his early 50's orders for carryout: sweet and sour shrimp, crab rangoon, and the Chinese donuts. I recognize his lazy voice from the countless times he's ordered before. He had requested no sugar on the donuts. He arrives. He's a funny sounding man but very jovial. When making sure Ling doesn't add the sugar he comments, "I'm Pennsylvania Dutch, so..."

All his items were fried so I comment, "But you still gotta worry about all that oil."

Man: "Yeah we don't worry about cholesterol."

He smiles real big and chuckles.


Lentil Wrap with Tomatoes, Onions, and Hummus. French Fries. Honey Green Tea.


At one point I get very frustrated with my boss. Sometimes when being the only driver I lose orders to deliver because they're either in a different direction or I won't be able to deliver them on time. She'll send Ming, one of the cooks, out to drive. In this particular case it was unreasonable because I had just gotten back from a 20-minute run and maybe two minutes before I arrive she sent Ming out with two hefty orders that I know would've tipped me well. I speak my mind and let her know how I feel. I'm supposed to be the driver. I'm fast. I'm good at what I do. I can successfully deliver orders on time.

Me: "I don't need help, Cecily!"

I've always had trouble defining the line between humility and standing up for one's self.


The day moves on.


Vegetable Lo Mein.


Off work.


When I get out of the shower Ana is here. We suit up in jogging attire and go for a walk/run around the neighborhood. We perspire greatly. Eventually, we end up at the Friend's School, climbing around on the playground and rocking on the swings as we sing the "All I Have to Do is Dream" song acapella. We find a tree house structure and hop inside. It's very dark and shadowy with faint outdoor lighting from the house nearby. Our faces connect – we kiss and fondle each other's bodies – we become tree house lovers. Once again, like the magic bus experience, there's subtle role playing – pretending there are kids playing around in the sandbox but they can't see us nor do they know what we're doing. It's a secret but it's a thrill to know that at any moment someone could discover our sexual act.

Me: "Well, we did it in the bus over there. Now we had sex in the tree house. What's next?"

[Heh-heh]


Back at the house.

Sharing bowls of Honey Bunches of Oats with Milk. Then, lounging in the bed watching the first half of Midnight Cowboy (1969).


[i] Broccoli Tree House. Brock Davis.

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