Thursday July 4 2013

Saint Benedict. Jeff Koons.[i]

Waking up at 1:23 p.m. Ana is still here sleeping soundly.

Sharing conversation and breakfast at the table with Ana and Caylin, our Canadian couch surfer. He brings out his special Mate tea he obtained from sailors when he was on a voyage to Rhode Island.

Peach. Cinnamon Oatmeal with Brown Sugar and Milk. Coffee.

In my bedroom I get distracted with Ana's unconventional cat-like body positions, which she likes to situate herself in often. We can't help but tap into the sexual energy and pick up where we left off from last night.

After all that she smears on this African black soap face mask and helps buzz/cut my hair. Normally this would be a job for Becca, who has given me haircuts the past 4 years. But she's in Blacksburg so I have to make do with what I got. I do most of the cutting but Ana takes care of the back of my head and my neck.

Hard-Boiled Egg with a hefty Salad, Garlic Bread, and Tea.

On the basketball courts. Some of the buddies I played with the other day are here. We do an intense 2-on-2 game – my teammate and I win 11-8. Then a few rounds of Knockout. While we sweat and play the July 4th fireworks light up the sky from every direction.

Back at the house.

Ana's here. Singing together and practicing a new wispy version of "Proud Mary".

Black Beans with a Quinoa-Vegetable Mix and Perogies with a Yogurt Dill Dip.

Darren comes barging in full of anger after getting off a China Wok shift. With the Independence Day traffic at the oceanfront and our boss's unforgiving personality he had plenty to vent about.

More people show up. With Laron, Caylin, Leslie, and Ana at the dinner table. I decide a game of cards would be appropriate. The Ninja Turtles version of Bullshit called No Way Dude. Words. Humor. Stressed. I'm starting to feel stressed. Sometimes I get socially exhausted. That's all it is. My body's sore. My voice is sore. My intellect and wits are sore. The card game ends abruptly after some people lose the attention span for it. Ana and I softly practice more music in the background while everybody else persistently tosses the cards into a drinking glass at the center of the table.

People leave. I need to be alone.

A bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats with Milk.

Sleep sometime around 5 a.m.

[i] Saint Benedict. Jeff Koons.

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