Monday January 2 2017


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It’s understood I’m out of town with a few friends and family. Entering a hotel lobby – there’s a lot of commotion – tons of people moving around. My mom goes up the elevator after checking in with the staff. I’ve got a piece of paper in my hand telling which room is mine. I try to hop on the elevator but the staff won’t allow me to cause I didn’t sign in at the front. Signing in apparently involves getting a photo id made and a bunch of other stuff I don’t have time for. I just want to get to the room. I storm off down the hall looking for somebody in charge. A lady with a special collared shirt seems too busy to help me out. I keep trying to get her attention.

“Ma’am! Could you please help me?”

But nothing happens. Frustrated I run into a banquet hall and turn over a table with a bunch of pizzas on it causing a scene. Now all the attention is on me. I’m in trouble. Everybody is after me. I escape in the stairwell and stay hidden...

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Waking up at 11:18 a.m.

Irish Oatmeal with Cinnamon, Raisins, Maple Syrup, and Kefir. Guayusa Tea.

At the Rec finally after a week away from the gym. Now I’m feeling good enough to burn some calories on the basketball court.

Scrambled Eggs. Sourdough Bread with Non-Dairy Cream Cheese. Oolong Tea.

Teaching lessons at Music Makers.


Back home. Ana cooks us a hearty dinner: Lentils with Onions, Kale, Carrots, and Quinoa.
We sit down at the table together and watch a little of a Miyazaki movie. Meanwhile, a cake is baking, Will is changing out the water filter in the kitchen sink, and Elvis is batting his paws through the black bars of the chair. While I wash the dishes mom and Ana devise a frosting recipe.

Later on, Anthony, Richie Howard (and his girlfriend) appear. We finished making Stacy’s cake. We all gather around, sing happy birthday, and enjoy moist chocolatey slices of cake. Stacy is actually turning 20 even though the candles say 110. That’s a Roman numeral II. Stacy takes her time thinking of a wish to make. The catchphrase of 2017: “Stop yelling at me”, even if you’re not really yelling.

Cleaning up the mound of dishes. Relaxing in the bedrooms chatting with Ana about the pressure she feels to pull together original songs for a show coming up. I try to encourage her creativity even when she gets afraid.

Sleep 3:30 a.m.

[i] Images by me.

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