Friday September 20 2013

Days of Thunder. 1990.[i]

Waking up at 10:50 a.m. about ten minutes before the alarm goes off. Feeling a mild hangover from that rice wine I had last night.

Blueberry Bagel with Vegan Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

A beautiful day outside.

Slow. Slow. Slow. Taking care of in-restaurant chores: snapping a box of snow peas, prepping the bags and fried noodles. 

Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Pretzel Slims with Hummus. Honey Oolong Tea.

The day continues. Orders pick up. Luckily, I'm the only driver tonight, which means I can reap all the benefits.


Kinder Chocolate.


Keep going. Keep going. I get stuck delivering a little later than usual. Whatever. I take it like a man.

Tofu with Broccoli, Carrots, Onions, and Rice in Garlic Sauce.

Watching Days of Thunder (1990).

There's a chaotic commotion downstairs – people yelling and shouting songs, banging and breaking their surroundings. I put on my headphones to drown out the noise so I can focus and sink deep within.

Ana calls me on the phone. It's just about 2 a.m. She's on her way home.

Her: "I like to talk when I'm driving home."

Me: "My mom does the same thing actually. She calls me when she's driving home."

It's quiet downstairs suddenly. I assess the damages. Our sturdy wooden table is gone. Some pictures have fallen off the walls and in place of where they were are clever off-handed statements written in black marker. It seems somebody cleaned and picked up though. I decide not to put any energy redecorating and reconstructing. I should go to bed.

Sleep 4 a.m.

[i] Days of Thunder. 1990.

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