Wednesday May 18 2011

DREAM: Waiting on an island with a few friends, mostly all the people that I live with like Josh, Carmen, Anthony, Dustin, and Kevin. The sky has a dark grey hue to it, cloudy and moody—the ocean spread out before us. There’s no shore though, more like a ledge that just drops off. All of a sudden a red Mustang drives up close to the edge. It’s able to maneuver like a boat. There two people in it with hunky black guns. I jump into the water, which is like 3-foot deep. They have the guns aimed right at me. I attempt to point them away but it’s very difficult. Eventually, I get a hold of one, aim it into the sky, and pull the trigger. No bullets. It’s a fake. The hostility of the guys in the car is no longer there. Back on the beach. Carmen is acting hostile towards the group and myself. I’m holding one of our black steak knives from the kitchen, which Carmen was holding a second ago. With the knife up to her neck I threaten her, “Look Carmen! You have to stop.” Then pretending to cut her throat I say, “This is better for the group. We have no choice.”

Waking up just after 3 p.m.

My body feels achy and my nose is still sick.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese and Honey. Hot Oolong Tea with Honey. Ibuprofen.

Researching spiders and whether or not one should allow spiders to be in the house. Found some interesting sites on the topic:

Pro-spider: http://www.zyra.net/housespiders.htm

House spider myths: http://www.washington.edu/burkemuseum/spidermyth/myths/insidewolf.html

Identifying the dangerous kind: http://hubpages.com/hub/The-Glade

Common VB spiders: http://www.ehow.com/info_8283938_common-spiders-virginia-beach-virginia.html

Unrelated I found a piece of writing on hoarding: http://www.zyra.net/hoarders.htm Of course I immediately think of Kenneth. He’s the perfect example of it getting out of hand. I don’t consider myself a hoarder in that sense. I do have some of these qualities the article talks about but I think I’m more of a conservative hoarder. You have to keep in mind your living condition and the amount of space you have available for collecting. It’s smart to hold on to something you know will be useful in the future but too many material things can create unneeded stress in your life.

The throws of material possessions are addressed by Jesus: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)

And Buddha: The second Noble Truth states that the origin of suffering is attachment, “Because the objects of our attachment are transient, their loss is inevitable, thus suffering will necessarily follow.”

Business—sipping on Oolong Tea.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Watching Endgame [2009].

Google work.

Mango and Blueberry Yogurt.

Google work.

Rachel walks into my room—updating the news on her blood clot—we analyze her life scenarios and other such things.

Editing some video footage from a Musicplayer show.

Dinner: Vegetable Noodle Soup with Northern Beans. A Carrot, a little Pita and Hummus, and Garlic Naan Bread.

Margot drops in after a little night of drinking. I’m sitting on the couch chowing down slowly on my food while she talks about how sleepy she is.

Carmen describes how she got multiple bruises on her legs from falling off her bike the other day.

Not long after, Margot decides it’s time to go home and exits in a pouty haste—mood completely switched. Meeting her by the driver’s side door. She’s acting bitter and has an attitude for some reason. After realizing that it’s the alcohol that’s opened up this impatient unbecoming side to her, I use manipulative tactics to persuade her to sleep over. Mainly I just have to be forthcoming and, for lack of better term, forceful, but in a sweet way.

After she runs up to my room, I acknowledge everyone inside, “You got to know how to work them.”

She shouts out from upstairs, “Shut up!”

I join her in bed for a little bit while she rants on about the fake spider infestation in the house, “No spiders! Keep the spiders away from me!”

Found an LOL SPIDERS website and decided to make my own just for her. [see above].

Some pretty live photos from that night I played drums with Gabe Niles at Jewish Mother: http://www.flickr.com/photos/parxty/sets/72157626614793303/

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.

It’s almost 5 a.m.

Anthony: “Oh hey, Margot’s leaving again.”

Apparently, she’s freaking out about having to stop by her house for a contact lens.

Me: “Are we really doing this again?”

Using my boyfriend tactics to get her back inside. She runs upstairs.

Acknowledging Anthony, “You got to know how to work them Part 2.”

Finally, joining her cute little body in bed.

Sleep 5:40 a.m.

Tuesday May 17 2011

DREAM: I am one of two volunteers required to stand in an enclosed 4-foot-deep water tank with a dome-like roof while being observed by scientists. While standing I’m supposed to be flipped a certain amount of times. The room is dark with a shade of blue light glimmering all around. As I’m preparing for the experiment I watch a man sitting in a wooden school desk start yapping away in an auctioneer’s voice, but its talk radio. I assume this is being broadcasted. I’m thirsty but it’s understood the water has chlorine in it so I can’t drink it.

Waking up just after 11 a.m.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice.

Starting my 10-shift at China Wok.

Text conversation with Margot…

Her: “WTF WAS TRYING TO GO BACK TO SLEEP AND FELT SOMETHING ON MY ARM! THOUGHT IT WAS HAIR BUT IT WAS A FUCKING SPIDER CRAWLING TOWARDS MY FACE. A FUCKING SPIDER THAT YOU LIKE HAVING IN YOUR HOUSE. I’M KILLING THEM ALL. THEY ATTACKED FIRST. I’M SUPER PARANOID NOW.”

Me: “he just wanted ur affection. the average human swallows 7 spiders in their sleep throughout a lifetime.”

Her: “That doesn’t make it ok for it to happen. ESPECIALLY not to me.”

Me: “which spider was it? the tiny black fury one?”

Her: “No it had a small body and long skinny legs. And I think it might’ve jumped off me before I flicked it off. HE WAS COMING TO GET INSIDE MY EAR AND LAY EGGS.”

Me: “oh that’s the nice one. just a daddy long leg. he likes you and wants you to have his babies.”

Her: “It was not a daddy long leg. His legs were not that long. NO BABIES WITH SPIDERS ONLY YOU!”

Me: “if i had 8 legs would you still have babies with me?”

Her: “Only if you could make them go away”

Eating a Mango and an Avocado with Potato Chips.

Reading Adbusters while I wait for orders.

Satisfying my random craving for an Oreo Blizzard. Waiting at a stoplight holding the Blizzard in my hand and Nirvana cranked on the stereo. These two black girls pull up next to me in a big red truck. I hear laughing and giggling. I acknowledge them after turning the music down and they wave back. Earlier I remember seeing them in the restaurant waiting for their Chinese food. I guess they saw me running in and out, and found it humorous that I stopped at Dairy Queen while I was delivering.

The driving never stops. The driving never stops. The driving never stops.

Finally it stops. I’m home.

Carmen helps me make an Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato.

Honey Green Tea.

Joining the crowd downstairs. Of course, Twilight Zone is on, specifically “The Obsolete Man,” which according to Kevin is one of the best episodes, and he would know since he owns and has seen all of them. After seeing it I have to agree with him. One of the best.

http://youtu.be/T_OLyEYqb5I

http://youtu.be/gCW1-e-n_wc

http://youtu.be/FBcuDDszBWc

Me: “Anthony, there really is a lot of people in here.” Both couches are at capacity.

Eating a few slices of Pizza and sipping on a Mickey’s.

A fun little conversation sparked with Josh, Kevin, Aj, and Kelley. Paranoia. Truth. Fact. Fiction. Action. East VS West. I VS We.

Dumpster Diving with Josh and Aj—coming back with bags of bread and produce. None of me and mine shall ever go hungry.

Feeling a slight cold coming on—nose running—constantly blowing it, an obnoxious honk every time.

Eating Lentil Vegetable Soup.

Sleep 5:20 a.m.

Monday May 16 2011

DREAM: I’m at some kind of summer camp. The campground is so vast that I have a scooter to help me get to places. Something bad has happened—something apocalyptic and everyone’s gathering somewhere. I choose not to join up so urgently and stay behind.

I hear Rachel faintly just outside my door, “Robert. Dad. Robert.” She opens up and steps in to find me asleep. “Why are you guys always right?” I guess they predicted I’d be sleeping, which I am but obviously I’m awake now.

Waking up just after 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Peanut Butter and Honey. Orange Juice.

Google work.

Work at China Wok.

It’s fun to watch the pedestrians on Virginia Beach Blvd. I catch a black kid riding his bike, flailing his arms and spitting rhymes out loud with no care in the world if anyone hears him. Then, I spot Kenneth’s twin—no joke—more like Kenneth on steroids—tricked out in huge black skater jeans with chains hanging out, long hair, a cluster of necklaces and medallions—the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all day.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Rachel keeps sending me photo texts…

More Google work.

Rachel walks in with a bag of books on her head, figuratively speaking—the complex issues are a lot to bear. She sits on my lap like a child talking with a father or maybe Santa Claus? There are things that worry her and scare her. There are things that are precious to her. There are people that she loves. There are habits. But she is alive and full of light.

Me: “But that’s what life is all about. I mean, would you rather be lying in a bed for the rest of your life or have this? Conflict is what makes stories interesting.”

Eating a Mango. Making Rachel and the house a special concoction I call Cream of Honey Suckle, which is just Jasmine Tea with Coconut Milk and Honey/Brown Sugar.

Pita and Hummus.

Spying on Carmen and Margot discussing Animorphs and having girl talk.

As I was in the kitchen slaving away, Margot’s sitting in the brown chair and spouts out, “I’m bored! I’m going to bed.” “No you’re not!”

Attempting to cook a Lamb that was dumpster dove the other day with Mixed Vegetables. It turns out alright. The kids are loving it.

Kevin, talking about Josh, “But you dress like a vegetarian, or a Presbyterian!”

In my room—She satisfies me to no end.

Downstairs, joining Carmen, Anthony, and Josh—watching Ace Ventura Pet Detective and sipping on wine.

Sleep 5:20 a.m.

Sunday May 15 2011

Waking up around 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Business.

Putting things up on Craigslist.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Work at China Wok. One order. One hour.

Going to the clubhouse provided by Chanticleer with Kevin, Josh, and few other friends. It’s in the middle of Linkhorn Bay off Birdneck—surrounded by a beautiful lake—the moon glowing behind the clouds—wild geese quietly floating—working out on the machines—swimming in the pool—breathing in the hot sauna air.

Eating Strawberry Yogurt and a Mango.

Pinball Locomotive practice in the dining room (Anthony’s band) along with Kevin on violin, Richie, and Rusty. Anthony really wants me to throw down some keys—I play the electric organ and a little bit of mandolin.

Dinner: Pita and Hummus. Persian Cucumbers and Green Peppers.

Becca stops by rocking her new car.

Corralling Josh, James, and Becca to go exploring on the grounds of Friends School down the street. Riding the Razor scooter. Entering through the back way in the cul-de-sac, hopping the fence. James rips his shorts pretty bad from the sharp edges at the top.

“Man, this place is incredible!” Both Josh and I have our shirts off—running around—being a kid—climbing the monkey bar dome as James and Becca pretend to be ferocious zombies jumping up and reaching for their victims. This playground has a unique character, built out of thick cedar wood, which gives off a fresh rich wood odor caused from the rain earlier today. Compared to all the modern playgrounds made out of cheap oily plastic, this place is a goldmine for us night creatures. I’ve always been more affectionate to the older parks. Holding on tight to the tall rope swing—swaying like a jungle boy—emitting animal noises of all sorts—being free.

Back home. Twilight Zone on six TV’s is undeniably a better experience than just one TV.

Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat.

Google work.

"The human body has been cherished since time immemorial as an instrument of pleasure and an object of aesthetic delight. Our body is our most intimate possession. As the carrier of our consciousness, it represents the only tangible evidence we have of our existence. Through our feelings about it, and our use of it, we define and express our personal identity. We feed it, train it, worry about it, suffer over it, adorn it with clothes, decorate it with ornaments, revel in its sensations, and marvel at its intricacy and beauty."

--- Priscilla Kapel

Snacking on Goldfish and watching this extra solar planet documentary.

Sleep 6:30 a.m.

Saturday May 14 2011

Waking up around 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Kevin walks into my room and plops down on my bed.

Me: “Get out of my bed! Oh man, you tainted it. Margot’s scent is there and now I got to smell yours.”

Kevin: “Oh no, Margot sleeps here? I’m gonna get spray-tan on me.”

Me: “Dude, you know that’s real tan right?”

Business—organizing—decorating—setting up the foosball table.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Watching I Like Killing Flies [2004].

Work at China Wok—slow.

Watermelon.

Chris stops by to check out the new place—battling out in foosball and watching Musicplayer video footage from our last show at The Taphouse.

Eating Persian Cucumbers and Sweet Peppers with Ranch.

Carmen’s lies down atop the washer and dryer reading Animorphs, blending really well into the background of the room.

Anthony, being rambunctious as usual, knocks over boxes in the hallway. James compares Anthony to a cat in that they freak themselves out after doing something disastrous.

The queen shows up and persuades all of us to go to Kmart. While there, Anthony picks up a huge bag of rice, the bulk size, and tosses it up and down in the air, then of course breaks the bag making a hole, rice falling out everywhere.

Waiting at the checkout line—looking at Margot in her Harpoon Larry’s outfit: tight fitting orange t-shirt and black shorts. Gosh she looks so good. Those legs accentuated—a legitimate thing of beauty.

Pita and Hummus.

The Friend’s School around the corner had its prom tonight. Rachel and a few other people show up at the house. Anthony and I perform “The Paper Man” rap (full version) to the crowd, almost flawlessly.

Walking Margot out to her car. We get into a bouncy conversation about this and that, partly brought up on my end.

Her: “I feel like you’re just too focused all the time.”

Me: “Yeah I want to focus…but I’ve got all these people and distractions around me seeking my attention. And like, living with other people, it’s hard sometimes. But I know I need the community.”

Her: “Maybe you’d be better off without a girlfriend.”

Me: “Yeah but I have no choice in the matter because I love you.”

Her: “I feel like I worked hard for that.”

Me: “Yeah you did.”

Newspaper route—Calum drives the yellow Mercedes from the 80’s. This will be my last newspaper route—passing on the torch to Calum. Reciting the “The Paper Man” rap and teaching him the rhymes.

My little green tree frog friend appears again at the Rehab Center box. Calum discovers him on the ground by our feet—the frog jumps up on my pant leg then onto my arm. How appropriate. It’s as if he knew this would be my last time and he’s saying goodbye.

Stop at 7-11—I encourage Calum to try the blueberry donut. The addiction to them I also pass on. Eating a Blueberry Muffin with Iced Coffee.

The closer we get to the end of the route the sadder I feel. I mean, I’ve been doing this thing every day since January. I’ve become attached to this routine of just me and the lonely night, my coffee or milk and donut or muffin, and Coast to Coast radio. I’ve done a lot of thinking on these roads, sorted out many problems in my head, and philosophized. During my time here I’ve went through quite a few changes: got a new car, moved into a new place, experienced a stage of immense rejection (romantic issues). Through it all the papers would still come and go—the news never stopped. It’s strange this sense of loss. I guess I’m free now.

Sleep 7 a.m.

Friday May 13 2011

DREAM: I’ve started working at Sonic again. It’s 5:30 in the morning and it’s understood that I’m late opening. Fumbling in the kitchen trying to set up everything. Orders from customers start popping up on the monitors already—I don’t recognize some of the items. More employees show up. Talking with Steve, one of the managers I used to work with years ago. “Yeah the dishes weren’t clean and stuff isn’t set up.” He seems annoyed that I’m criticizing that because he was the one that closed the night before. I begin cooking the bacon—pulling out the greasy strips and placing each strip on the grill—it cooks fast. I accidently wipe my mouth on some of the raw bacon, hopefully no one noticed. Joey randomly appears and asks what I’m doing today. “Well, I’m working all day!” I respond. He asks, “Can I come back and recite to you this bit from a Cookie Monster piece?” “Yes, of course.”

Waking up at 2:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Business.

Errands.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Finishing New Town Killers [2008].

Google work—counting quarters—figuring out bills.

Jamming on the mandolin—stretching—crunches.

James brings over gifts of wine and some leftover dinner he cooked for his parents. Cooking that up—Chad comes over—haven’t seen him in quite a while—explaining how eager I am to play music.

Dinner: Spinach Salad. Chicken Alfredo Fettucini with Orange Peppers.

Sitting down at the card table with Chad and James. There’s a handful of extra people here at the house hanging out.

Sipping on Smoking Loon red wine, which has a strong smoky taste to it.

Listening to Erin Gilroy talk about her life as I ask questions like a counselor or psychologist—being accepted by friends—casual sex VS relationship/love sex. Chad’s picking apart a cork to one of the wine bottles.

Erin: “Things that are important to me aren’t important to most people.”

Denali Caramel Caribou Ice Cream.

In the living room—feeling a little tipsy from the smoky wine—jamming a folk progression on guitar—Anthony chiming along on an Ovation—Jordan pulls out his 12-string.

Google work.

Fascinated with the smoke bubbles Devon is blowing on the back patio.

The kids went dumpster diving but only Josh returned.

Chowing down on some Challah Bread.

Newspaper route with Calum—he’s focusing on writing down directions and notes in his composition notebook.

Sipping on Iced Chai Coffee.

A raccoon crosses VB Blvd just in time for me to run over him. THUMP! Unfortunately, he doesn’t survive. “Man, if only I had took just a little bit more time or less time at that last box I probably wouldn’t have hit him.”

Later on we catch a fox leap across a neighborhood road in front of us and scurry safely into someone’s backyard.

Recalling my past experiences with raccoons…“Saturday March 5 2011…Driving in the Bay Colony area, which is her neighborhood. I spot a dead raccoon curled up in the middle of the road. Oh the symbolism. I am that tragic raccoon, lifeless. And she’s the fortunate fox still prowling around, full of life….” “Sunday March 6 2011…As I’m driving down Lynnhaven Parkway, I watch a scurrying raccoon safely make it across the street and into the woods. Oh the symbolism, I am that fortunate raccoon still prowling around, full of life. The fox isn’t the only victorious one.” It was a horrible feeling to run over that raccoon tonight. If that raccoon was me and this is a foreshadowing, then I will be responsible for my own poetic death, not the feminine fox.

Back home—organizing and cleaning the dumpster food—Carmen’s making an egg sandwich—Anthony’s being playful, throwing the big orange kickball at me.

Sleep 6:40 a.m.

Thursday May 12 2011

DREAM: I’ve joined an evil space alliance with a clan of aliens, but they don’t look alien, more like hybrid giant humans carrying lots of accessories. It’s understood that I’m a spy and found a way to integrate myself into the group without them knowing my counter objectives—theirs being to take over other planets. I’m flying around in space next to the leader of the pack—feeling the outer space air brushing by my face—such a cool moment seeing all this blackness and starriness surrounding me. We’ve landed somewhere—excavating through attic doors and tunnel spaces. At some point, the leader is reprimanding me for something, more like discussing something with me. He has a black nightstick in his hand, like a cop would have, and is attempting to put it down my pants because it was understood that he knew who I really was. I say to him, “I want to live. I want to be alive.” What I meant by that was that I want to have no boundaries and no limits and enjoy the gift of life. He doesn’t actually put the club down my pants. Maybe something got through to him.

Waking up around 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

Anthony: “You could make yourself seem intelligent just by looking at the context clues.”

Me: “George Clooney reminds me so much of myself.”

Business—figuring out bills—this and that.

Banana—Watermelon.

Stretching and Yoga to the sounds of Ravi Shankar.

Google work.

All the kids just came back from Kevin’s softball game—Kevin’s jeans and jersey are covered in dirt—his team won both games.

Cooking up dinner while James shares his customer stories of the week from GEICO.

Dinner: Teriyaki Chicken with Rice. Perogies. Broccoli.

Anthony: “Dinner with the FAM!!”

Margot stops by with cheese and crackers. All of a sudden donuts are a great idea in her mind and nothing will substitute, not even my suggestion for the ice cream we bought yesterday. We take the drive to Holland Road where the only 24-hour donut place is, Dunkin Donuts. As we pull up to the window to wait for our half dozen, she uses her one-word antics identifying whatever she’s anticipating, “Donuts!” A huge smile on her face—reminding me of a little kid—emotions out on her sleeve—so cute.

Arriving back home—James and Anthony placed orders with us for Boston Cremes.

Making love in my room.

Newspaper route—taking Calum out with me—showing him the ropes. Coast to Coast AM. Coffee.

Sleep 6:20 a.m.

Wednesday May 11 2011

DREAM: I’m standing on a balcony leaning over the ledge—at least 100 stories high. I toss over a stuffed animal and watch it fall, slowly, taking it’s time. After being hit a few times by other balconies it finally lands on the ground.

Waking up at 2:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Dustin describes a conversation with the Cox Cable man. Cox Man walks in to fix cable and notices the TV tower, “Are you guys in the military?”

Dustin: “Nope.”

Cox Man: “Then what the fuck you guys smoking?”

Errands.

Spray-painting my tire rims purple—tricked out Camry.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Helping out Kevin bring his mattress and boxes from his storage unit. We discover a huge TV by the dumpster. Perfect.

Re-constructing the tower of TV’s (2.0).

Sushi with Margot at Fuji Yama. I love the warm orange glow of this room. Volcano roll is a favorite.

Shopping at Kroger for ice cream. We’ve done this once before and we go through a tedious decision making process when picking the right ice cream.

Back home, she’s my object of desire—loving on me—loving on her. I like it when she takes the reigns.

Lounging on the couch—putting Fantastic Mr. Fox on through the TV Tower. Dustin joins us. Sharing Denali Caramel Caribou ice cream, a good choice.

Newspaper route.

Snacking on Popcorn with Vitamin Water and a Blueberry Donut from 7-11.

Sleep 6:40 a.m.

Tuesday May 10 2011

Waking up around 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Picking up a mini-fridge from the JCOC thrift store.

Stopping by 1623—all the debris and stuff is cleared out now—bare yard—bare house—it’s sad to know that I have no part of the house anymore.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Work at China Wok.

There’s a new driver here in training named Aaron. He says he’s from New York (Lower Manhattan), which is near Chinatown so he understands the serious vibe of the Chinese, i.e. my boss.

Talking about my bosses, “Yeah, they match the criteria for the stereotype of an Asian for sure.”

Him: “See without knowing you and just by looking at you, I would think you were a stoner.”

Me: “[haha] And I don’t really smoke weed. I guess I do have a grungy look.”

Back home—people hanging out.

Strawberry Yogurt.

Art, Roma, and Jamil come over. I missed my Russian friends.

Dinner: Chicken with Onions. Rice. Broccoli.

Poker with James, Art, Harry, and Roland—Rachel is parading around the house with roller skates pretending to wait on us at the table offering peach flavored Tic-Tacs—Art wins.

Carmen, after sucking on a blue ring pop, reaches over to take a bite from my dinner.

Me: “I don’t want your blue mouth on my yellow rice!”

Margot brings over Chocolate Chip Cookies. I ask her to save me a few while I wash the dishes. She demands, “I don’t talk to anyone who doesn’t give me a kiss first.” The queen needs her proper greeting every time; otherwise there will not be good relations.

Constructing a tower of TV’s in the living room.

Me: “I love this kind of stuff. It’s like a science project—all these wires going everywhere.”

Anthony puts a New Radicals song on the computer. Within the first 15 seconds Margot comments, “This is the worst!”

Amanda, whom I know through an acquaintance, contacted me about doing a paper route. So I take her out with me and show her the ropes in hopes that she’ll take over the job.

Eating a Bowtie Donut from 7-11 with Milk.

Sleep 7 a.m.

Monday May 9 2011

Getting out of bed around 10:30 a.m. I head to Edible Arrangements—supposed to be there at 10. They send me home though because there just aren’t any deliveries available.

I fall directly back to sleep until 3:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Strawberries.

Taking advantage of the time to clean and organize.

The Mileage Shop sent me a new hydrogen fuel cell to replace the broken one I sent them back. Installing and making sure the system works. It feels good to have that back in my car.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Tomato and Mayonnaise. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Work at China Wok.

Blueberry Yogurt and a Banana.

More cleaning and organizing. Within the week I expect this new place to feel like a home, complete with everything in place.

Kevin just got off work—sharing our delivery stories for the day—eating a Carrot.

Me: “That’s the thing I love about this job. You get a glimpse into so many people’s lives, all these people out there that you know nothing about. As soon as they open their front door you get to see what kind of person lives there—you make judgments and predictions. It’s very interesting.”

It’s after midnight and the rest of the family is trickling in.

Margot brings over a DiGiorno pizza. Eating a few slices and watching a little bit of Samurai Pizza Cats The Movie, this anime from the 90’s, in the living room. I can see where The Powerpuff Girls gets its influence.

Chilling in my room and cuddling with the queen. Earlier she was acting a little sour.

Me: “I think me identifying you as the queen is getting to your head.”

She becomes happier when it’s just her and I or I’m giving her my full attention. Of course I like full attention too. Everybody wants understanding and to be able to share their excitement over things.

Before we have sex she starts taking off her dress. I object, “No. Put that back on. I want to take if off you. I like taking your dress off while we’re having sex.”

Newspaper route.

Coffee Roll Donut from 7-11 and Milk.

Coast to Coast AM. I’m just going to copy and paste the newsletter that sums up tonight’s show,

“On Monday's show, author Jim Marrs discussed various conspiracy theories, and how events such as the ongoing deadly radiation from the Fukushima reactors and spraying of Corexit in the Gulf continue with little news coverage. We live in a "fake world" now, he contended. with such issues surrounding Pres. Obama such as his birth certificate, the so-called killing of bin Laden, and the phony pictures of his dead body that appeared. The secret operatives that claimed to have killed Osama bin Laden dumped his body into the ocean saying it was custom in his homeland of Saudi Arabia, a predominately desert country, and without any objective forensics performed. If bin Laden was unarmed, why didn't they capture him to bring him to trial for his crimes?, asked Marrs.

According to many credible sources, bin Laden has been dead since December 2001, probably from his kidney problems. This wasn't reported back then because the government needed to keep him alive in order to justify such programs as the Patriot Act, and Homeland Security, he conjectured. The removal of bin Laden now was a tactic to take people's mind off Obama's issues about his birth certificate and citizenship, he continued.

Regarding suppression of news coverage of Japan's nuclear radiation which is still spewing from the damaged plants, he cited how "the nuclear industry doesn't want everyone to know how bad this is, because we would be doing like Germany is doing and shutting all nuclear plants down." Speaking about the UFO secrecy issue, Marrs said disclosure hasn't taken place because government & the military don't want to admit to the public that there's technology that they don't have, and that they don't have any control over this technology.”

Back home snuggling with her. Sleep 6:45 a.m.

Sunday May 8 2011

FUGHUGH. Waking up at 9:30 a.m. Only 3 and a half hours of sleep.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

Starting my new job at Edible Arrangements. It’s Mother’s Day and it’s a hectic atmosphere of people in aprons putting together the bouquets of flower shaped pineapples and chocolate dipped strawberries. The route dispatcher is swamped compiling all the routes. He gives me a 12-order route, which starts way out in Pungo. After the long trek out there, I knock on the door but nobody answers, and according to Flower Delivery Etiquette you’re supposed to leave it with a neighbor, not at the foot of the door especially perishable things like fruit. Surprisingly, the neighbors to the right decline on holding it for them, “Oh, we don’t get along very well. Try the people on the other side.” Starting to sense a weird vibe. I try the neighbors to the left and again, declined on the grounds that “they don’t talk very much to them…try the Avon lady across the street.” Without hesitation the Avon lady accepts the arrangement and even has the customer’s number.

I take advantage of being on this side of town and stop by a strawberry field for a quart of strawberries—so soft, and sweet, and perfect.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Delivering an order somewhere out in Shore Drive. As soon as the door is opened two giddy little dogs come tumbling out—the cutest dogs I’ve seen all day. The littlest one amazingly hops up from the ground and lands in my arms. This is the stuff that keeps me going.

Just as soon as I get done with fruit bouquet deliveries, I rush over to 1623 to meet a guy I found on Craigslist to collect all the junk in the yard. He’s legit and affordable. Otherwise, Kenneth’s stuff would’ve stayed there. Then The Property Shoppe would’ve overcharged me for junk removal and it would get taken out of my security deposit. I wasn’t going to let that happen.

Straight to work for China Wok.

150 miles of driving. 11 hours of work. This day definitely constitutes as Burnout Day Part 2. Part 3 coming tomorrow.

My shift has finally come to a close—slurping down Vegetable Lo Mein while I drive home. This is ridiculous. Every single meal I’ve had today has been in the car, on the go. That’s how busy it was.

Me: “Hey Anthony! Guess how many hot girls I delivered to today?”

Anthony: “How many?”

Me: “One. But guess who.”

Anthony: “Who?”

Me: “The owner of Guadalajara’s daughter. Yeah man. It was my last delivery at China Wok—a big house over on Haversham and Dey Cove right across from Cox High School—a bronze fountain flowing in the front yard. I had been there once before. It had a see-through stain glass door and all I could see was skin walking down the steps and she opened the door. She was standing there in what seemed like swim suit attire. I had noticed a neon sign in the garage for Guadalajara. Yeah I found out her dad is the owner of that restaurant.”

Kevin describes his own hot girl encounter during his pizza deliveries, “Yeah she had dazy duke shorts on and a British accent. I got a total boner upon recognition.”

Counting quarters—talking with Margot over the phone. Understanding one another is the most important aspect of a relationship.

Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat in the kitchen while Darren explains how disgusting he thinks it is for a girl to eat fast food all the time.

Newspaper route. I really don’t know how I have any energy.

As I’m pulling up to the newspaper plant I’m surprised to see Skippy and Anthony in a big red truck. They came for moral support I guess and to entertain themselves with my line of work.

Towards the end I can barely keep my head up.

Sleep 6:20 a.m.

Saturday May 7 2011

DREAM: Describing a dream I just had to Margot within another dream: Inside a section of a house that’s supposed to be 1623 but looks entirely different. There are people everywhere and the floor is covered in snow, but my feet aren’t getting wet. It’s understood that a lady from The Property Shoppe is coming to inspect the home tomorrow and decide what repairs or charges I will get taken out of my security deposit. ☼☼☼☼☼ In an airport. I’ve just gotten in line to buy some ice cream. The menu above me has four square images of flavors and dishes. I watch as other people are served. I see a green colored ice cream and think of kiwi. I ask the man behind the counter, “What do you recommend with kiwi? The Tropical?” which happens to be the fourth image on the menu. He starts putting together my ice cream. But suddenly something goes wrong and the electricity goes out everywhere. The machines and tools can’t be used to finish my ice cream. The employees are trying to complete it but the ice cream is melting in one of their hands. Realizing I won’t be delighting in ice cream I immediately run down a hallway past a security guard who’s checking id’s and plane tickets. He hollers at me to stop. I continue my fast pace hoping I can make it on the plane. He keeps shouting and demanding that he needs to see my birth certificate. “Sir! Come back here! I need your birth certificate!” It’s becoming difficult to run, sometimes in slow motion and the guard is very close to catching me. I arrive at the kiosk to enter the plane where a woman asks for my birth certificate. I explain, “I have it! It’s in my safety deposit box.” which is at home or maybe in a locker somewhere. So it’s useless. I attempt to run past her and……………….

Waking up around 11 a.m….next to her warm brown body again—such a lovely feeling.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice.

Having to work a full day shift at China Wok.

The sun’s bright intruding light baring down—nothing my blue shades can’t handle.

Sitting down in the restaurant waiting for orders. Two guys in their 30’s sitting just across the way waiting for their food.

One of them asks me, “Do the Verizon girls come in here?”

Me: “Oh yeah.”

Him: “There’s some sexy ones come in here man!”

Quick stop at the house for lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Ling, my boss/chef delegates me to go buy string beans from Kroger. The restaurant never orders them so whenever a customer wants them for dinner we have to make a Kroger trip. I pick up a Vitamin Water and gorge the whole bottle within 2 minutes.

The orders keep coming. It’s systematic: Knock on the door and/or ring the doorbell. Say “Hey how you doin?”. Make the transaction. If there’s a dog or cat, make sure to greet or acknowledge their presence then compliment them. Say “Thanks. Have a good night”. Then rush back in the car and repeat the process at another address.

Texting Margot…

Me: “i saw a few cute girls today and realized how cuter you are.”

Her: “Dats right! You better think that! <3”

It’s been almost 11 hours since I started working. Long day. And it keeps on going and going.

Chowing down on Vegetable Lo Mein while I drive because I’m that hungry.

Walking into the house—music blaring and a crowd of the usual people.

Me: “Hey Anthony! Guess how many cute girls I delivered to today?”

Anthony: “How many?”

Me: “Three.”

Anthony: “Legitimately?”

Me: “Yes, legitimately.”

Chocolate.

Downstairs—describing the cute girl experiences I had today with Anthony. “It’s funny because you go through the motion of delivering. You go up to the door and expect to make a quick transaction. And then someone attractive opens up the door and it catches you off guard…….It’s the perfect plot set up for a short film. The Chinese food delivery driver encounters an attractive customer and because he already knows her address and has her phone number from the ticket he begins an unhealthy obsession, which leads to stalking and awkward attempts at trying to hang out with her.

It just gets to a point where you see so many throughout your life and you literally see how there’s so many fish in the sea—it’s overwhelming—and even though it’s exciting to observe, you realize it’s not about that anymore. Beauty is fleeting. It’s unoriginal and redundant, at least conceptually, but you can’t help but respond to the effects of it.

This leads to a debate on soul mates. I grab a dry erase board and map out my theory on how soul mates rarely work out because people attract themselves to the wrong mates in so many different ways, through globalization, technology, pressures to get married quick. But really, it’s all situational. Being happy with someone you know that you love is the most important. Anthony’s rebuttal involves John Cusack movies.

Business—calculating the figures for the month.

Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat.

Newspaper route—Anthony joins me to makes things go quicker.

He comments on how settled he feels with the dynamic of our roommates and how it does resemble kind of a family.

Throughout the route we compose a rap. Check it:

Sleep 6 a.m.

Friday May 6 2011

Waking up next to my baby’s naked warm body—the most wonderful thing to wake up next to.

Dropping her off at her car.

Target.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Organizing. Setting up the washer and dryer—getting frustrated with all the little problems that keep occurring with the electricity and other misc kinks. The Italian maintenance guy is helpful.

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Honey Green Tea.

Watching some of New Town Killers [2008].

Decorating the walls with pictures and signs.

Sharing yogurt with James.

Work at China Wok.

I chose to wear my red Edgar Allen Poe today and for some reason keep receiving comments on it. It’s not even that loud of a design, just a black outline drawing of his face with “POE” and a raven contained in the O.

Attending the Art Show at Concrete—lots of admirable work—snacking on Salt n Vinegar chips—Rachel positioning herself inside an over-sized tire and posing for a picture—Roland tinkering on an old Casio keyboard—drumming on a djembe and producing simple vocal melodies on the microphone to go along with it—Rusty holding an Animorphs themed canister—freestyling along to a lofi electronic sample, “Animorphs. Animorphs. Did you ever read Animorphs. I did because it’s so cool [SO COOL] way cool [WAY COOL].”

Using one of Kevin’s complimentary pizza cards to order a pizza from Papa John’s. Having three slices.

Counting a heart of quarters.

Dustin’s covering my newspaper shift for me tonight, thankfully. God bless roommates.

Going to sleep early tonight. 4 a.m.

Thursday May 5 2011

Waking up at 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Cinnamon Raisin Toast. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Getting a new job for Edible Arrangements—starting this weekend.

Kevin: “Dude, I woke up with a ton of boxes all around me! I felt like Shredder from Ninja Turtles 2 buried in garbage.”

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Vitamin Water.

Unpacking—organizing—arranging the living room.

Dinner: Carmen’s Spicy Pasta with Tuna. Broccoli. Naan Bread with Fresh Garlic. Corona.

Anthony barges into my room, “Robert, I really look up to you. You wake up every morning and you get it done.”

Me: “I hope you write a book one day called Wake Up Every Morning and Get it Done.”

More unpacking and organizing.

Wesley, Emily, and JP stop by to see the new place. I miss seeing my old friends. It’s sad to even identify them as old friends. Old or new. Friends are friends forever.

The queen went out tonight with her girls. And you know what that means for me. I stop by Poon’s to pick her up. Of course this usually takes at least 10 minutes because she has to make her rounds to almost everyone—exclaiming I love you’s and Goodbye’s. It reminds me when I was a kid going to church with mom. After the service, I’d be impatiently waiting to leave while my mom makes her rounds talking to everybody she can.

Margot’s really drunk riding in the passenger seat as she repeats her words and tells me confusing stories about her night. I can’t help but snicker every now and then at how cute she sounds.

We walk into the house and all the kids are getting live and hanging out. Immediately Anthony and Kelley start shouting “SEX WITH MARGOT! SEX WITH MARGOT!” making fun of course on how I write in my blog. I take her upstairs and…well, Sex with Margot. I would’ve preferred her to not be so inebriated but man, I was itching for this, especially after this week of MOVING hell. I love her.

Newspaper route.

Grapes. Apple Fritter from 7-11 and Milk.

Coast to Coast AM.

Getting back home. She wakes up and shakes her arms signaling me to embrace her. Ahh. So warm. She’s mad that she can’t remember having sex or anything for that matter after I picked her up.

“Come over here and love me!”

More Sex with Margot.

Sleep 7 a.m.

Wednesday May 4 2011

DREAM: Attending a gathering at the 1623 house. I approach an old friend, Emma Sherbak. We’re catching up on the past few years. The behavior of her body interacting with mine is borderline awkward, not so much for me but enough to give an outsider the wrong impression. Of course, Margot is watching all of this friendly interaction and I sense she’s displeased. I walk over to her as she crosses her arms and presents her notorious I’m upset with you pouty face. I whisper into her ear, “It doesn’t matter….I love you.” It doesn’t have the calming effect I would like it to…

Waking up around 2 p.m.

The last time I’ll have the pleasure of waking up in this house.

Stanley Steemer is here to clean the carpet and perform the miracle of removing the raunchy dirt stains everywhere.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tarts. Orange Juice.

At the new home in Chanticleer. The street number is 1435 and has now been dubbed “143live” as a moniker, pronounced [lahyv]. It was quite an amazing feat to transport every last particle from 1623 to here in only two days. It could not have been done without the help of the rest of the gang.

Well, here I am sorting through boxes and arranging my new room, which is two times bigger. I find myself designing the layout of a lot of things in a similar fashion as they were at the old house.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Tomato and Mayonnaise. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Vitamin Water.

Work at China Wok.

A customer pays me with fifty-cent pieces (half-dollars).

Back at home, unpacking boxes—moving furniture. Finally setting up internet. I just want to get back in the flow of things and be settled in and make music and not be so stressed out. The past few days have been non-stop, literally.

Dinner: Vegetable Past Soup. Naan Bread with Garlic. Carrot.

Anthony is acting like a spastic 4 year old as usual, running up and down the stairs with a scooter making his rounds to every corner of the house. All the while Margot and I are having an upsetting talk over the fact that I have an ex-girlfriend box, which contains a few love letters and memorabilia from my first girlfriend. I try to explain there is absolutely no emotional attachment to it and that I only keep it for posterity’s sake. She just doesn’t understand. “But I’m a historian! You know me. I like to collect things and document my life.” I guess she’s more offended by the fact I won’t throw it away. I whisper into her ear similar things I whispered to her in my dream. I just find it entertaining and interesting to look back and see where I’ve come from. It’s simply an artifact that represented a stage in my life. She just doesn’t get it. Eventually, the convo turns around for the better and the sweetness begins.

Newspaper route.

Cinnamon Streusel Muffin. Milk.

Coast to Coast AM.

Sleep 7:20 a.m.

Tuesday May 3 2011

Move Out Day Part 2—the day that never ends, that never catches a breath, and never stops to give you a chance to even think. Just keep moving those boxes, those mattress, and those bags.

Spending my last night in 1623—all alone—just me and a futon and my laptop—and the ghosts of the house that I never seemed to pay attention to when the house was full of stuff and people. This empty house brings about a sad feeling. So many ideas, thoughts, and words were exchanged here within these walls, so much laughter and life. And now it’s all over. Time to move on to another geographical locale and paint some other home’s walls with spirit and love and liveness.

Monday May 2 2011

Moved into the new place. With all sorts of helping hands and vehicles, it is mostly done. You can imagine what moving out entails. Numerous trips back and forth. Boxes. Boxes. Boxes. It’s a sad and hopeful feeling all in one. That is all I have energy to tell.

Sunday May 1 2011

Waking up just after 2:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Taking my car to Firestone for an oil change and minor maintenance.

Wesley pulls up in the driveway with his newly purchased 15-passenger van.

Talking about the move and the changes coming up.

Wesley: “Life moves on, bro!”

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Work at China Wok.

Darren’s in my room—having a heavy discussion about the logistics of the new place and how to divide the costs.

Sharing a few Chocolate Chip Cookies.

Anthony comes up to me describing how excited he was all day that Kelley agreed to “go steady” with him.

Scouring town for cardboard boxes with Anthony and Skippy. It’s after 10. We walk straight into Target—there’s an open door where employees are unpacking boxes for the new produce section being put into the store. They can’t help us. The Burger King next door has a slew of boxes just sitting in their dumpster. Bingo!

Trying to organize and pack as much as I can, all the while there’s the usual crowd of people getting live and being loud and drinking around me.

Dinner: Two Over Medium Eggs. Broccoli. Naan Bread with Fresh Garlic.

I hear someone scream, “OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD!” This is the latest news. All the people in the house are rejoicing and hollering…minus Darren and Richie who seem to have no reaction at all. My reaction? What? Now? Yes, this is anti-climatic. If he really is dead, then we as Americans should feel gratuitous amounts of joy and relish in the justice that has been given. He was immediately buried at sea? Yes, we as Americans have every right to be suspicious. I’m going to need more proof than my trusty Obama telling me it’s true, God bless him. It’s possible even our own president is being lied to. None of it makes sense. And why after all these years should we trust the government and media now? Let’s wait until the facts unravel before we celebrate. Please, don’t be stupid robotic minions. Be smart autonomous human beings.

More packing.

Arriving at the newspaper plant. The papers are a little late because of the extra printing they had to do. With the front page showing an image of Osama Bin Laden and “DEAD.” in big red letters, The Virginian Pilot expects more sales.

Running the route.

Blueberry Donut from 7-11 and Iced Coffee.

Coast to Coast AM.

Sleep 7 a.m.

Saturday April 30 2011

DREAM: I’m sitting a big table with other people for some kind of business meeting. A lady that’s heading up a particular science project sits at the end of the table seeming flustered about the progress all of us are making. A man, also in charge, decides to share a secret on behalf of her. “She’s solved the Human Genome in America,” he explains. I don’t really know what that means but it’s understood that this is big news. I watch as a model planet revolves in place. It’s like the size of a giant bubble, brown and muddy with yellow lava cracks flowing throughout. I’m able to see the inside of it. I ask the lady, “What planet is this again? I thought it was supposed to be Mercury.” I point out to her a technical flaw in the science experiment that we should fix…

Waking up 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tart. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin D.

Errands.

Watermelon time!

Anthony’s concerned about an ear infection after getting out of the shower. I force him to eat watermelon.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Banana.

Work at China Wok.

Eating Blueberry Yogurt and one Chicken Finger from a plate that Devon brought over for Anthony.

Margot comes by after she gets off work—she’s frustrated about the lack of tip money she made tonight. She’s got a pretty grey flower attached to her hair emphasizing her already attractive smile.

She’s talking about pizza again. I’m making fun of her.

Her: “I don’t eat pizza all the time. I just talk about pizza all the time.”

The kids are watching Bobby’s World. While I’m making food, Kevin comments about how similar I am to Bobby. Really?

Dinner: Two Over Medium Eggs. Broccoli. Naan Bread with Fresh Garlic.

Google work.

I’m scooping cookie dough onto the baking sheet. As he’s talking with Devon, James says, “Sometimes I just like to watch Robert…he’s interesting to watch.”

Filling up on Chocolate Chip Cookies and Milk.

Anthony and Kelley are spitefully hanging out in my room.

Anthony: “Don’t worry, Robert. We got some Google work done for you.”

Kelley: “Do you think God is energy?”

Newspaper route.

Coast to Coast AM.

Feeling nostalgic and hopeful at the same time.

Sleep 7:20 a.m.