Friday August 9 2013

Ana Bedroom (August 9 2013)[i]

At some point in the morning I recall waking up to Ana persistently caressing my back. It feels nice. It never seems to stop. I fall back to sleep, going through an entire dream only to wake up and discover she's still touching me. :)

☼ ○ ▬

Driving through a gothic style neighborhood, like one out of a Tim Burton film. I dip down this steep slope and park in somebody's driveway. I'm supposed to give these two girls piano lessons, one at a time. It feels like it's been a while and I'm a little rough on teaching. Later, my dad shows up. He discovers Brandy (his old wife and my former step-mom) is here too. They hook up in a bathroom somewhere. Ana's here now. We struggle to find our own spot to have sex in. It's proving very difficult because there're so many people around. The bathroom in the hall. The living room. The bedroom in the attic – avoiding the spiders. Every time we think we find a secluded spot the fear of another person spotting us sets in and we can't ever reach the point of comfort.

▬ ○ ☼

Waking up at the hottest hour of the day at 1:25 p.m. She wore the black and white striped one-piece that's reminiscent of something Wednesday Addams would wear. I crawl off the side of the bed and she repositions herself on top. All the sexual energy that was bound up gets released.

We migrate to the kitchen and enjoy a Watermelon breakfast.

Anthony makes a noise downstairs.

I ask Ana, "What's going on down there?"

Ana returns with a smile and replies, "Nothing."

Me: "Nothing's going on. He's just stirring things up. He's good at that."


Anthony has been delegated to be Laron's life coach.

Anthony: "That's LIVE coach!"

He's helping him find a job today – giving him advice on clothes to wear – being the ultimate encourager, his hype man.

Ana and I make Caprese Salad (Mozzarella, Tomatoes, Basil, Balsamic Vinegar, and Olive Oil) and share it with the couch surfers.

Changing a tire on Ana's bike while she plays Hungarian Rhapsody on the hundred-year-old pump organ. After tweaking the bike a little more she takes it for a spin out in the neighborhood. Ten minutes later she returns with bloody wounds.

Me: "Oh my gosh. I was worried something happened."

Apparently she lost control on a turn when a car startled her. Blood is dripping on her leg. I take her into the bathroom and medicate her gashes with peroxide and bandages. I feel bad for her. She's still getting used to the nuances of riding a bike.


She complains about the hassle cloud that forms around her life. It's apparent in her every day activities.

I assure her, "It's okay. That's what I'm here for, to help you with your hassles. It gives me something to write about."

Picking up some groceries and things at Target and Trader Joe's. Sharing Ritter Sport Milk Chocolate.

Bike ride date with James Graves on the boardwalk – zipping through the tourists and slow pokes.

Egg Vegetable Japanese Style Rice with Broccoli.

There's a house show/party in Norfolk at The Wolves Den. Caravanning with the gang (and a half). There's a ton of people gathered outside in the street. Mingling and reuniting with Norfolk friends. Then, we migrate to James's house off Indian River. His roommates are gone leaving the whole place open to LIVE and nonsense. Running up and down the stairs – hollering and hooting – sipping on beers – dancing in James's bedroom – spying on the living room scene through back patio window.

As we're walking out into the parking lot to leave I playfully taunt Ana with the basketball. With a sudden urge of inspiration she darts after the ball but slips in the gravel. Her second physical injury occurs. Another hassle.


On the car ride home. I've reached capacity: Josh in the passenger seat. Laron, Richie, and Kevin in the back seat. And the couch surfers in the very back seat. The whole drive Laron enlightens us with a personal rant on self validation and how he enjoys video games for the love of the game not because he's escaping social environments. His voice is piercing in my right ear, as I'm sure everybody else's. Somebody gave him alcohol and it's opened up a well of perspective inside that he can't resist sharing.

Ana texts me, "I'm always hurting myself in front of you. I don't understand...and I don't like it. I don't want you to have to take care of me all the time." Not long after she calls. Her car broke down on the interstate. Hassle #3. I feel so bad for her. But everything gets taken care of.

Honey Bunches of Oats with Milk.

Sleep 5:30 a.m.

Black Curtain Hair (1)(August 9 2013)[ii]

[i] Image by me.

[ii] Drawing on Post-It note by me.

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