Friday August 12 2011

Waking up after 11 a.m. for China Wok—all day shift ahead of me…

Breakfast: A Peach and a Plum.

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

---Eleanor Roosevelt

"We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it."

---Rainer Maria Rilke

“I was told Earth was a planet when I was born but it might be an asteroid when I die.”

---Darren Fleet (Adbusters Issue#96)

Lunch: Bagel with Peanut Butter. Kettle Cooked Potato Chips with Avocado. Lemonade.

Reading Adbusters and consolidating emails…

It’s incredibly slow at work today—I’ve taken maybe three orders in the past four hours.

Napping in the hot car…

Watermelon.

Delivering an order on Air Station Road. The guy’s order is $14.31. He hands me a wad of cash and some change. I count it back in the car. It’s only 10 bucks in cash and $1.81 in coins. I’m missing a little over 2 bucks. I return to the door to inform him that I need more money. I’m left waiting for a few minutes. Then, another guy opens up demanding his money back—he claims he gave me $15 and accuses me of stealing.

Me: “Are you serious? Sir, this is what you gave me…”

Him: “I don’t care! Just give me my money back…”

He threatens to call my boss and get me fired. The longer I stay alive the more I believe that people are generally crazy and don’t have the ability to reason or understand logic…This is ridiculous! Why would I feel the need to lie to this customer? I wonder if he legitimately wasn’t aware that he only gave me $10, or maybe he didn’t have enough money to begin with and made these outrageous claims to try and get away with it, or to save face. Oh the things we do.

Major headache caused from incompetent customers…

A few songs come up on my Ipod that remind me of her and the musical kingdom I created in my mind solely for her.

Strawberry Yogurt.

Business today was horrible…

Dinner: Breaded Cod Fillets dipped in Spicy Vinegar Ketchup. Jasmine Rice with Onions and Peppers. Broccoli. Williamsburg White Ale.

Watching The Other Man [2008].

She calls me…the queen that is…not sure if I can call her that anymore, but it feels natural to anyway. I didn’t answer at first but decide to call back. She’s lonely and sad and depressed—on her way to Wal-Mart because she needed to get out of the house and none of her other friends could be there. I stress the importance of having other people to confide in that’s not her or I. It helps.

Her: “Come outside!”

I didn’t even invite her over but she shows up. Here we are…outside in the black sea parking lot of Chanticleer—she’s crying and exclaiming beautiful sweet words like “I want to be with you forever” and “I don’t want anyone else” and “You’re perfect”. Part of me is glad I had the opportunity to see those glittery eyes. I stand there embracing…caressing…comforting…

Me: “You’re so sweet.”

I know this pain she’s feeling. And so does she. We’ve both been here before. The mood turns playful as she affectionately attempts to trap me with her touch—placing my hands on her chest…she’s notorious for putting my hands wherever she wants them.

…

She runs inside the house and up to my room—I follow. We lie down together—bad thoughts—good thoughts—she tries to instigate sexual things and as much as I really want to, I prevent it from happening…

Me: “That wouldn’t be good right now…”

I remind her that we need to have no contact for a while, a few weeks at least…to mull things over. I know myself too well. I’m not one to act rashly but even if I do, the effects don’t take a toll immediately. I know that in a week or two I will start to feel the emptiness and the disconnect.

Her and I: “I love you so much.”

This song stands out to me…Been Here Before by Jeremy Enigk…

“Been here before

Though there's something in the air this time

Now I wanna give away what I've taken back

Run away with you toward the night

A thousand names

Though there's something in me cannot smile

Don't wanna spend the day retracing steps

Run away with you toward the light

I can't stay long in the morning

Another one went wrong

It's okay now that you're gone

Only in your eyes a sudden need denied

I sympathize

A diamond daze

A thousand strands of sunlight in her eyes

Now I wanna give away what I've taken back

Step away with you toward the night

I can't stay long in the morning

Another one went wrong

It's okay now that you're gone

Only in your eyes a sudden need denied

I sympathize”

For whatever it means, Anthony texts me this: “Vanity upon vanity, all is vanity.”

Eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Sleep 4 a.m.

Thursday August 11 2011

DREAM: I’m in Arbor Trace Apartments where Raven used to live…but it’s understood I’m living here or maybe I’m just here for a one-time purpose. Raven is supposed to be arriving soon from Richmond to hang out just for the day. She shows up, but almost immediately she is obligated to drive this group of people to Norfolk for whatever reason, maybe her mom is making her do it (I think they’re family).

Me: “Why are you doing this? That’s going to cut into our schedule because it will take at least an hour and a half to drive to Norfolk and back.”

I’m not sure why I thought it would take that long but for some reason I’m worried and feel crunched for time. I go back inside the house. She follows, and tries to talk to me. I’m confused and irritated because she’s wasting time when she could be getting the Norfolk trip over with. Her mom baked a fresh loaf of Berry Bread. I grab a slice that doesn’t have butter on it—it’s warm. I’m finding it difficult to spread my own butter on it.

I keep waking in and out of sleep—rustling in the bed sheets—an anxious and unsettling feeling from the dream…

It’s around 11 a.m. and I’m awoken by Raven in my room—she’s here in Virginia Beach just for the day to pick up some packages. It’s good to see her spritely face again. Anthony once described her as a “slurpee with legs”. The metaphor is accurate…I would have to agree. Lounging…talking, waxing poetic, and sharing space…recognizing the multi-levels of any form of relationship:

First level: recognition of existence

Second level: drive to understand (connect)

Third level: indulgence

I think there should be a fourth but not sure what that is just yet.

Her scent is really alluring—I’m obsessed with smells. It’s some sort of cotton candy neoclassical musk body scent…

Internally, I feel conflicted. Maybe it’s just that I’m so conscious/aware of the foreign terrain…foreign futures. I even comment on it—how concerned I am about Margot. I know she’s hurting. I hurt too. And I told her I would never just up and leave her for someone else. It’s a horrible state of affairs to be in. I’ve been there. I refuse to do that to her. But I need another person to help me move along, not a rebound, just a friend, a friend whose sole motive isn’t jumping in my pants………but to allow an opening, an invitation to know that there are other wonderful people that exist in this world, other people that could reciprocate a “Yeah I know what you mean.” Raven has been a good friend in this respect by offering non-biased insight and comfort and consolation and understanding. Moral support is important…I also get this through Anthony and other friends that I choose to dispense my situation to.

Breakfast: Peanut Butter and Biscoff Spread Bagels. Orange Juice.

We all cramp into my wagon (Kelly, Raven, Anthony, Jonathan, and Blake) and head to Pungo. Kelly knows this guy Mark who has a farm right in the heart of rural Virginia Beach. Pulling up the long gravel driveway…trampling through the fields…picking watermelon, eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes…an old rusted car stuck amongst the trees...Hundreds of St. John’s Cross spiders standing guard in the hot greenhouse…Jonathon accidently drops one of the watermelons snapping it open. This isn’t such a bad thing—I crack it open more and we indulge, scooping our hands into the juicy pink flesh. Picking fresh eggs…trading for peppers…cat kingdom…fig withdrawal.

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

Watching Universal Soldier: Regeneration [2009].

Making dinner with Kelly using Quinoa, Peppers, Eggplant, and Tomatoes. Then, baking bread from scratch…a bunch of people in the kitchen sharing the wealth…Josh recounts his recent ought with the law and his single day jail experience. This leads into a discussion about abuse of power in the legal system…

I receive a disheartening message from Margot—a desperate plea to return to what we once were. It’s filled with pain and anguish and sadness…with things like “My fire has gone out without you” and “I’m a vacant shell”. I feel it so intensely…I feel her heart…It hits me hard…I love her so much and care about her so much.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch…

1435 Internal affairs going on around me…

In a quiet place…Kelly reads Blankets by Craig Thompson while I read Nature by Emerson…

I’m tired…so terribly tired…

Sleep sometime after 3:30 a.m.

Wednesday August 10 2011

Waking up just after 1 p.m.

Last night…in bed…we were normal…interacting in sweet affection like we always do…as if nothing was wrong. Now she’s standing by the front door, ready to leave for the day—the sadness is overwhelming…tears trickle down her face…

Me: “I love you so much…”

Her: “Then you don’t have to break up with me.”

Me: “It’s something I have to do…”

Breakfast: White Nectarine. Plum. A little bit of a Bagel with Honey Nut Cream Cheese.

At Stephanie’s house for the Nostrum Cast and Crew Meet & Greet…

Eating incredibly delicious Spring Rolls…

Rehearsing with Dream Girl, the band that appears in the movie for a show scene…I’ve got my guitar and amp…Calum rocking the Yamaha synthesizer…Tucker on drums. It’s a spacious abode—we’re set up in the living room—miniature poodle on the neoclassical sofa—practicing the 2 and a half-minute pop song. Before and after there are some endearing ethereal jam outs—this room provides a most satisfying resonance of sound, and the daylight shining through—family pictures, trophies, and a wooden xylophone…

Snacking on Salt n Vinegar Chips and Lemonade…

Back home…

Another couch surfer has arrived from California, Blake—she’s on her way to Florida…

Eating an Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato using some of the Crepes Carmen and Mitch left out. Also, Honey Green Tea.

Watching a little bit of Universal Soldier: Regeneration [2009].

An extensive phone chat—an accidental concept—an intense lightness.

Exploring my dinner options in the cabinet: chic peas in a can or hearts of palm in a can? Jamal, a black guy with a colorful attitude prances into the kitchen strumming a ukulele, “It’s obvious!” Then he shakes the can of chic peas as if this is the obvious decision…

Kelly Suddeth and I concoct an interesting hot meal with the chic peas mixed with a bunch of vegetables and baked pita bread. Adding some picante sauce and goat cheese makes it an almost perfect dish. Having a Williamsburg White Ale with it. Then some ice cream roll. Tristan joins us for conversation—Wolf Parade on the stereo…“Give me your eyes I need sunshine…”

After reading Anthony’s entry in the Rootless & Restless zine, Kelly comments, “His slew of words is mind boggling.”

Sharing words and writings…

Sleep sometime after 4 a.m.

Tuesday August 9 2011

DREAM: I wake up from sleep (still in dream). I hear something that sounds like a clack at the window. I look over and Anthony’s sitting in my computer chair. “What was that?” I ask. Someone threw something at my window. The glass is broke in the bottom right corner. Carefully I slide up the frame to look outside. Instead of the woods and trees there’s a vast field in our backyard with giant plastic 2 liter Pepsi bottles the size of buses spread out strategically. Each one has been cut in a different way to appear as broken glass. It’s understood this is the doing of someone’s art installation. Then I see a guy, understood to be our neighborhood. He’s wearing a pink, green, and blue jogging suit from the 80’s and smoking a cigarette. And he’s just standing there staring at our back porch as if he’s waiting for someone to come out and pick a fight with him. I start to yell but back off to avoid confrontation. It’s obvious he was responsible for my broken window. But why doesn’t he look up here? I make a comment to Anthony, “This guy’s a snozbag!”

Snozbag? Who ever heard of a snozbag?

Waking in and out of sleep…actually getting up at 2 p.m.

White Nectarine and a Plum.

Rearranging and cleaning the dining room—the maintenance guy says he’ll be back to cut a whole in the ceiling to take a look at that leak—Simon & Garfunkel on the record player…

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

Grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s.

Trekking to 21^st street on my bike for the house show at Rusty’s place (Haircut 5000)…Once there, Paige and I walk to Atlantic Avenue to visit Anthony doing his Beach Street USA thing—he gets so embarrassed of his friends seeing him do covers of Oasis on guitar. Grabbing a slice of pizza around the corner…Paige informs me of up and coming technology, like a printer that prints in 3D…

Back at Haircut 9000…lots of friends here…a band called Hooking Up from Harrisonburg performs a set inside the cramped punk space—crunchy pop guitars and screaming anthems—it’s hot in here. Climbers, from Richmond, is impressive with his electronic experimental pop goodness. Daniel shows up just in time from Trader Joe’s for him and Rusty’s Little Foot set…

Smoking a Djarum Mild out back with Leisa and Sky…chit chatting with people.

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/media/set/?set=a.10150252254191230.322659.709546229&type=1

Back home, a sort of after-show gathering…

Sitting down at the card table eating Baked Cod Fillets with Broccoli and a Williamsburg White Ale. Leisa and Kelly Suddeth battle it out in foosball—my dinner entertainment—Frank Sinatra on the record player—just watching the way they interact, the girls, the fair and beautiful—there’s something hypnotic about movement, a female’s movement. Lionel Hampton on the record player now. They begin to dance—I’m lured into the circle of three—a drama—interpretive imrpov dance…

Anthony: “I’ve gained like 10 pounds since I moved in with you!”

It’s after 2 a.m. A couch surfer arrives on motorcycle—from Canada—he’s on a road trip across the states documenting and taking photos…he’s a perfect match to the mix of people here…

A bunch of unfamiliar kids prance into the house—friends of friends—extremely friendly…one of them goes by the name of Squid…another by the name of Blondie…Carmen tells me we should get nicknames…

Margot calls me about retrieving her cake pan she left here on my birthday—she closed at her job so she’s coming straight from there. She shows up, bad expressions painted all over her face. Upstairs, in my room, she gathers her toiletries that she usually leaves here for when she spends the night like her contact solution, contacts case, and make-up pads. I hold the cake pan hostage even though she insists on taking it now so she can leave. Harsh and soft words are exchanged—but there’s only a desire to understand why…why…why is this happening. She claims she’s not capable of loving anyone else and crouches down on the floor in the corner next to the door…I crawl and lay down beside her while she cries…after a while it cools down…she tells of a nightmare she had last night—she got upset in the dream because we were broken up and there was some other “bitch” with me—she attempted to punch both the girl and me but couldn’t hit hard enough—then she leaves on a big bug and mermaids appear………

Eventually, it seems the only way for the night to end is for her to stay the night—she would feel horrible if she left and I would feel the same. So here we are…invigorating, intimate, sex…again…afterwards…

Her: “How could you give up something this good?”

There’s a seductive sound in her voice.

Me: “You got a point there.”

I’m so tired. It’s too late for my taste…the sun is coming up. I join her in bed…

Sleep 6 a.m.

Monday August 8 2011

She spent the night. I wake up and she’s gone because she had to open at her job. There’s a note written into my notepad on the desk…

“Robert. I love you. I love you very very much. You can’t leave me. I need to be with you. I don’t want to be with anyone else at all. This is my last plea for you to stay with me. I just want to be with you baby, so much. You’re my world. Don’t let me go. You’re the love of my life remember?

Love you dearly,

Margot”

All day shift at China Wok.

Breakfast: Glazed Pastry and Milk from Kroger.

Plums and Orange Juice.

HOT>

My heart felt heavy after reading her note. The words hit hard. I said these very same things back in February when she wanted to break up. I still feel these things. I reciprocate. But I’m not as determined because something inside is pushing me away. Maybe it’s my gut, or maybe it’s God. This is the hardest part…

Margot’s texting me, “People in love should be together. End of story.”

True. But it’s not that simple.

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

Chillin’ with Darren and Anthony for a bit—they just downloaded some British sitcom from the 80’s called The Young Ones.

Delivering an order on 22^nd street off Barberton. As I’m driving down the street, out of nowhere a dog runs directly in front of my car. I slam on the brakes—the sound of rubber skidding the asphalt. It was like a movie scene in that I just barely missed him by a few inches. The dog topples away shaking. The owner of the dog darts out to reprimand me for driving so fast and this and that. I give him a sincere apology and explain I was in a hurry because I’m delivering…He yells at me as if I’m solely responsible for the almost accident, “You’re a lucky mother fucker!” I bite me tongue. Are you serious? I wanted to say, Your dog is fucking lucky! This was just pure accident—both at fault. He wasn’t keeping track of his dog. And I was going a little too fast. Don’t speak to me with the presumption that I’m ignorant to what just happened. Maybe it was my sleeveless black Yellow Second shirt and cut off shorts or my 95’ station wagon that misled him into believing I was some hoodlum teenager. I wonder what his reaction would be if I were a 40-year-old yuppie driving a BMW…would he have been more respectful? Would he have been more forgiving?

There’s an intense feeling of claustrophobia in doing this kind of work, constantly moving behind the wheel—cars and pedestrians surrounding me like an army…I’m getting sick of it all.

Nothing relieves me from a hard day’s work like an ice cream cone from Chic-fil-A.

Finally…OVER.

Sipping on an Amber Wing Walker in Darren’s room with Kelly Suddeth and Anthony. Recapping my dog incident today—Darren exclaims that I could’ve reminded that guy of the Virginia leash laws…

Making dinner for the family: Penne Pasta in Tomato & Basil Sauce with Peppers and Onions. Fresh Baked Poppy Seed Bread from Kelly.

Darren makes me an Old Fashioned Cocktail to top off our dinner.

An extensive friend chat with Raven on the phone—insightful—enlightenment—venting…

Light Gatherers and Light Bringers…

Our nanny, Lauren, was sick last night and hasn’t been home in a few days either; therefore things have been dirty around here, mainly a huge pile up of dishes in the kitchen stacked to the heavens. I take the liberty of doing them myself. And it sure has been a long time since I’ve done dishes like this. I forgot how therapeutic it was…

I’ve been really disappointed in watermelons lately and can’t seem to find a good one. So I’ve been placing the unsatisfactory halves on the back porch and outside the front door as decoration. They make good ashtrays…

Anthony (an approximate quote): “You know that feeling you get after finishing a book…reading that last page, and like you realize that everyone around you is picking their nose or doing something else, and you can’t share that experience you just had…”

…“Happiness is only real when shared.”---Chris McCandless

Me: “Life is better when shared. That’s what I get out of that.”

Small bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Sleep 5 a.m.

Sunday August 7 2011

Waking up just before noon.

All day shift at China Wok.

Quick lunch rush…drinking lemonade…on the road.

It’s on my mind…it’s still fresh…what just happened? Did this really happen? My thoughts get the best of me…heavy teary eyes…

It’s funny how the question, “Are you okay?” just induces the opposite of okay—you realize you want to be but you’re not. Even asking myself this question brings about an overwhelming feeling of loss…

Back at the restaurant Ling shows me his style of cutting a mango that eliminates messy hands. My hands still get messy. There’s no way to avoid it.

Rachel stops in while I’m pickin’ peas…She’s about to head up to Richmond—tells me about a watermelon festival…

Me: “Watermelon festival? Why am I not at that?”

Rachel: “Because you’d eat it all and people would get mad and then you’d have a raging erection!”

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

Just another day in China Land…

Too many miles…not enough tips…

Becca stops by after grocery shopping with some Indian lady that gave her some kind of milk made with rose petals…I try a taste…She’s going to the Band of Horses concert at The Jewish Mother across the street…

Picking up a Starbucks Vanilla Frappuccino from 7-11 to keep me revved up…

Off work now…

Hanging out in Darren’s room drinking a Wing Walker Lager—he’s strumming on the guitar attempting to play a chord progression, “I wish I had more fingers.”

Becca and her friend, Melbo are here—they just got back from the concert…I grab the guitar and sing The Funeral by Band of Horses…

“I'm coming up only to hold you under

I'm coming up only to show you wrong

And to know you is hard; we wonder

To know you all wrong; we were.

At every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral

Every occasion, once more, it's called the funeral

Every occasion, know I'm ready for the funeral

At every occasion, oh, one billion day funeral”

Darren: “If life is so mysterious then death should be even more mysterious and greater.”

Twilight Zone for the whole family…

Dinner: Personal DiGiorno Pizza with Red Peppers. Another Wing Walker.

I told her I wanted to talk again…she held me to it…I invite her over…she’s sitting there in the computer chair…I kneel down beside her…more explanation…more clarification…clinched face…I feel her sadness (I have my own)…holding her…nuzzling her arm and chest…I love you too, baby…transfer to the bed…“You’re killing me,” she announces underneath cupped hands and a heavy heart…It’s a personal reason and a relational reason…that has brought me to face the idea of separation…I bring up the idea of people that break up and do get back together in the future…We can’t be in a limbo though. That’s not fair. We need to have the mindset of disconnect if we’re ever going to really understand this. Just as colorful and necessary as they are, emotions and feelings cloud reality, the reality of the inevitable, the truth. They offer beauty. But they don’t offer solutions. Distance allows perspective.

I want to be sensitive to her and myself, and the life we created together…

After a while of working out a thorough analysis of our history and its conflicts, she deducts it’s not possible for her to accept, “I’m not breaking up with you!” I just sit there in silence for a minute…It’s late. She has to open in the morning…so we finish with no conclusions or the luxury of feeling okay…

As she stands there asking for a shirt to wear for bedtime, I embrace her…feeling uncontrollable desires…She feels them too. This is what we’re used to. This is all we know between each other…is lovemaking…is loving the other’s entire being. I wasn’t even thinking sex would be in the cards for tonight but there we were…basking in our sensual and intimate place…

Yesterday was Doomsday. Today was Denial. And so it continues…

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

Saturday August 6 2011

Getting out of bed at 11:16 a.m.

Breakfast: Mango. Orange Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

She questions what I wrote yesterday, “Seriously though what exactly do you mean with these ‘shadows’? I feel like I need to know about this especially if it involves us. It scares me when you say things like that in your blog :(”

I need the shadows…a private place for my thoughts—it’s my world in my head…not yours. Some things deserve to stay a mystery until it’s necessary to speak…

Ling reprimands me for the way I cut and peel a mango. He insists he show me the right way next time.

Upset with myself because I drove all the way to Rosemont to deliver an order only to find out it was the wrong address on the ticket. Waste of a trip. Waste of gas…

Surprise visit from Margot…she buys me a Tuna Salad Sandwich from Panera.

Me: “Make sure it’s on country bread!”

I insist on pitching some money but she denies it because, “You’re my boyfriend!”

Me: “But I thought you didn’t want to be a sugar daddy…”

…along with Salt n Vinegar Chips and Honey Green Tea.

She makes a comment about how I’m back to eating salt n vinegar chips.

Me: “What? You know I eat these all the time! You don’t read the blog? [haha]”

Her: “Your diet is the least of my concern.”

She looks real cute in that thin summer dress…she smothers me in kisses…

The deliveries continue…a lot of long distance orders…it’s frustrating me…

Blueberry Streusel Bread.

…only in neverland can you be certain…

Ice cream cone from Chic-fil-A.

A guy calls in an order to be delivered—says he’s still driving and doesn’t know the street address except that it’s on 86^th street—says he will call back with house number. Food is ready. Still no call. I start driving towards the beach. I call him—no answer. Again—no answer. I better get in touch with him before I make it there. Here I am, all the way on 86^th street—still no response. What to do? I’m not going to wait here, nor am I going to knock on the 30 or so houses to find out if they ordered Chinese. This guy is still not answering his phone. After a few minutes of coasting the block in hopes maybe he’d be outside looking for me, I accept defeat and leave. Another waste of a trip. Another waste of gas.

I shout out loud in the car, “UGGHHH! What an idiot! I should’ve listened to my fucking gut and stayed put until he called!”

Pea snapping because our dinner rush loses its momentum…

Finally off work…

We have three couch surfers here from Athens, Georgia: Margaret, Fitzy, and Chandler.

Aj stops by on a whim, then Tristan, then James…

Darren: “Yeah, until we bastardized the English language…”

Dinner: Leftover Spinach Chicken Enchiladas. Rice. Lingwalker Lager.

Putting on Twilight Zone for entertainment…

Aj: “They’re so good at dramatic exits.”

Male character on one of the episodes: “Why do you have to disagree with everything I say!”

Margot calls me—I’m reluctant to see her giving her the reason that I’m preoccupied and want to go to bed soon, which is true. Really though, I just need some space. She’s already close by so it’s pointless for her to go home. Upstairs, she’s feeling rejected…

Me: “I just wasn’t feeling vibrant tonight and I know it upsets you when I don’t feel vibrant.”

Something just isn’t feeling right in my gut…Our words dig deeper into the mysteries of my thoughts, which aren’t legitimate mysteries because we’ve discussed this before, the idea of separating…Somehow I delve into everything I’ve been thinking. I stand there gripping the microphone stand that ended up in my room somehow—on my soapbox talking about: I need to be alone. This is the right thing for us. You deserve to be happy. My hands are getting clammy.

Her reaction is anger and attitude. Mine is sadness and remorse. She rips her I♥ROBERT keychain and tosses it down at my feet. And then removes the I♥MARGOT keychain from my keys, “You won’t be needing this anymore either,” and takes it—stomping out of the room, “We’re fucking done. It’s fucking over.” She’s gone. I hear the door slam downstairs. I crouch down on the floor and sit up crossed legged—the tissues pile up next me as I whimper and moan and shed tears. I call her on the phone, but she’s already home. Trying to be sensitive and express my emotions—she’s angry—and then she’s crying. My voice is nervous, “I want to talk to you again…” But her reaction is absolute cold-turkey defiance.

I didn’t want this…to happen. God! How I love you so much. This is the hardest part…

I know I’m going to have moments all the time where I question myself, What have I done? Why would I give up someone so beautiful and sexy and wonderful? I fought the fight over her for a long time. I gave it my all. I gave it my best. And don’t you dare tell me I didn’t try!!! There just comes a time when you have to make a move and do what’s best for yourself. This isn’t going to be simple or easy. I told her this. I’m fucking scared. I’m afraid of losing her—I am losing her. It’s going to be a process. I’m just so fucking sad right now. I feel horrible….horrible…horrible…

This won’t be an easy chapter to end………………….

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Struggling through my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Sleep sometime around 5 a.m.

Friday August 5 2011

DREAM: I’m using the restroom sitting on the toilet attempting to take a dump but for some reason I can’t. It’s not constipation. I just don’t have to go. Suddenly, Tristan Stewart is hanging out in here with me to which at first I’m uncomfortable with. But I convince myself and to him that it’s fine. I warn him, “It’s going to get stinky in here though.”

Waking up just before 11 a.m. She’s up before me again…I notice my cell phone is missing where I left it on the floor…I know what’s happening but it’s okay. She can go through it if she wants. I have nothing to hide. She just needs to reassure herself that she can trust me. I’m used to it by now. I don’t say anything when she softly walks back into the room…even though I’m tempted to call her out. Instead, I turn over allowing her the opportunity to put it back where she got it. She slips back into bed—all warm and cozy. Moving on…

Breakfast: Peaches. Orange Juice. Zinc.

All day shift at China Wok—back to the grind—back to the routine—back to Chinaland.

Snacking on the leftover Guacamole and Chips from last night. Drinking Lemonade.

It’s a slow afternoon at work…Cecily lets me try this Chinese fruit called Longan, brown on the outside, white flesh on the inside—a non-tarty grape flavor.

We receive a prank call at the restaurant—it’s obvious someone’s using a soundboard—I feel stupid at first for falling for it but I have to assume it’s a real customer at first every time before jumping to conclusions.

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Ketchup and Tomato. Grapefruit Izze.

Ling: “Robert you selling your car?”

He saw the window markings and thought it said for sale but I inform him it’s the doings of my girlfriend.

Blueberry Streusel Bread.

A guy hollers at me from his truck, “Happy Birthday Hunnie Bunz!!” This is written on the back window…

Just discovered the existence of a man who died recently, Reverend Robert Shields. He kept an accurate detailed diary for 25 years—writing for at least four hours a day documenting his daily activities on typewriters. Obviously I never thought I was the only one who had a desire to document his life. But this man was serious. And it inspires me. Before he died, “in 1999, he handed over his diary to Washington State University in 91 boxes on condition that it would not be read or subjected to a word count for at least 50 years.” Here’s one sample that’s online: http://www.soundportraits.org/on-air/worlds_longest_diary/diary_entry1.gif

Here’s an article on him: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-490674/Discovered-The-worlds-longest-diary--3-75-million-words-it.html

Shields: "You might say I'm a nut. We are driven by compulsions we don't know."

People are giving generous tips today. This is fortunate because it makes up for the incredibly slow dinner rush and overall sluggish day.

Feeling content and happy about life—pumping myself up in my head about things, things I want to accomplish—feeling motivated—it’s a beautiful night—breeze flowing through the car windows creating a fresh moment…

Treating myself to an ice cream cone from Chic-fil-A.

Back home. Workday is done. My mother’s birthday cards arrived. She always sends two, a lighter/funny one and a heavy/serious one. Reading through the poetic Hallmark words that were written by somebody else but are always relevant. She underlines almost every phrase creating a tender rhythm and increasing their significance, and then leaving her own personal note, heart balloons and “Love you bunches” included. My mother is attuned to me—our bond is a strong one, the way it should be between a son and a mom. I owe her everything, for being who I am today…

The house is empty, which is not normal. Darren shows up. We both warm up some food and eat at the card table together…he’s very insistent. It’s mostly him dispensing his usual frustrations with the idiocy of society and the flaws in the system. He has one of the most intelligent minds I’ve known and his thinking is straightforward with no apologies or sympathy.

“Yes, we’re all slaves, Darren. But the trick is to be a smart slave.”

Somehow I convince him that having sex with someone’s personality can be just as fulfilling as actual sex.

Dinner: Leftover Ric-A-Roni with Edamame and Mixed Vegetables. Draft Cider.

I invite Darren with me to Kmart to get mayonnaise and cereal. He’s still high on a rage from some minor gossip issue over a stripper from Mermaids that he’s been in contact with. He discovers a pair of sunglasses in the passenger seat that belong to him…when I tell him that Anthony was using them yesterday, he erupts like a volcano—his voice pierces my ears a little. It just sets him off. I feel for him…

At Kmart—checking out at the register—the guy clerk exclaims, “I’m ruining people’s lives tonight.”

“How so?”

He describes a petty situation with another employee.

As I walk away I say to him, “Try not to destroy people’s lives.”

Back home—eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch…

I’m nervous…like a boy…but conflicted…like a man. There’s something beautiful and inspirational happening in the shadows of my heart…and my mind—it’s important to the story but the timing is even more important…

I’m reluctant and tired…

Sleep 5 a.m.

Thursday August 4 2011

It’s 12:56 p.m. I wake up…she’s already up…

My new haircut isn’t as becoming as I thought it would be to her. She thinks I look like a mad scientist from the 80’s….

What’s wrong with that?

Her: “The 80’s is full of bad decisions…hair styles…fashion…”

Morning sex is nice…

Treating myself to French Toast for breakfast—I make Anthony some too.

I hear a tap at my door…its Rachel: “Robert? Listen I know you’re in there aging…”

It’s my birthday and I just have no desire to do anything except relax…

Sitting in my room listening and singing along to music on my Itunes—the longer I’m alive the more I realize how important music is to me.

Sharing Trail Mix and Lemonade with Anthony…

Basketball date with Anthony in the Latitudes neighborhood (Rachel’s turf)…

Me: “What’s the opposite of ‘That’s the worst’?”

Him: “I love that stuff!”

Margot shows up dressed to the nines, blue top, white skirt, yellow high heels, like the prettiest girlfriend ever—she gives me a birthday card…She tagged my car using window markers with statements like,,,,,,,“I luv yew hunnie bunz” and “sexy doodz”.

She takes me out to Plaza Azteca for Mexican.

Dinner: Chips and Salsa with Fresh Guacamole. Spinach Chicken Enchiladas and Rice.

Her behavior is full bodied with special attention for me, acting all cutsie and offering kisses and touching me tenderly. I’m her birthday boy, as the envelope of my card states, “MY ♥Baby♥…mine.mine.mine.”

I’m feeling somber and overwhelmed, maybe, but I can’t help but keep this permanent smirk on my face—she’s so adorable and beautiful and loving. She senses the despondence though…

Her: “What’s wrong baby?”

Me: “Birthday jitters.”

Back home, the house is packed with celebration and high quality moods. It’s noisy everywhere….

She bought me a pint of one of the finest beers in the world, Chimay, a trappist ale. With its 9% alcohol content I’m feeling full—resonating with everything around me…

Stephanie and Margot are twins! Look…

Sharing the “I ♥ U” cake she baked for me…

Later, back upstairs in my room she presents the last of my birthday gifts…

Her: “Close your eyes!”

Me: “Okay, they’re closed.”

Her: “Keep them closed…[repeats this but in a singing voice]”

Then she stands, her body adorned with an attractive black and white lingerie outfit from Victoria’s Secret…lovemaking ensues…she drank a bottle of wine so she’s sedated yet ultra-feely—more moans than usual coming out of her mouth, so much I’m sure the rest of the house can hear us—I take it all in because she’s so into it—the reigns are in my control—a fire—an intensity kept exclusively for me—enduring and long…it’s done. We lay down. She sniffles and cries quietly…

What’s wrong?

I just love you so much…

I know. I love you too…don’t worry…I’m right here…I’m right here…

I immediately recall the time I did this back in February. I bawled my eyes after sex then. I remember what that felt like. She’s really scared, terrified of losing me. Thinking back to what she said in my birthday card…she presented a letter that was utterly self-aware and apologetic—recognizing our dangers and fears. The last words: “Not to be a Deb, but if things don’t work out, I want you to know I will always be here for you and will always love you. Love you forever! But I will die if we separate…”

She walks across the room for a visit to the bathroom and accidently slams her foot into a metal hinge sticking out of my guitar case. I tend to her wound with a cold rag, ointment, and a band-aid….

Time for sleep…4 a.m.

Wednesday August 3 2011

Waking up just after 1 p.m.

Breakfast: Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

Pulling my bike out of the broken mini van…taking a day ride…it’s cloudy so the sun isn’t too overbearing. At The Heritage Store—mainly to get some shampoo fortified with Vitamin E and Biotin, and without Lauryl Sulfates. Scooping up some trail mix they have in barrels—eating that for lunch along with a Strawberry Kombucha Tea. As I’m walking out the door I run into Aj—I go back in with her to help search for multi-vitamins and a mushroom complex…

Visiting Leisa across the street…locking my bike up next to a tree—afraid of the parading ants that will crawl onto my seat. Sitting in her room browsing online, sharing discoveries, talking about personas and vanity and human tendencies and frustrations with…well, you know what I mean.

I notice The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz sitting on her bookshelf. Reading them out loud…

“Agreement 1: Be impeccable with your word - Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

Agreement 2: Don’t take anything personally - Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

Agreement 3: Don’t make assumptions - Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

Agreement 4: Always do your best - Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.”

On the ride back home…thinking about the past two days and how they’ve been centered on human interaction as opposed to Robert being productive. Normally I get overwhelmed with too much time spent with others but this time I’m fulfilled and healthy….

Raven’s picking up the last of her stuff in Virginia Beach—stopping by for a minute to help carry out whatever’s left…God knows I’m gonna get reprimanded for this later by Margot. But I have nothing to hide and I refuse to feel guilty for desiring relationship with other people in my life—developing friendships that will be beneficial. She feels insecure because she doesn’t know her and of course thinks the worst-case scenario, like me cheating on her, which is NOT the case. Plus it looks bad that I’ve been in communication with Raven almost every day while Margot and I have been on this break. What can I do to relieve her from worry? I’m not going to cease contact with someone whom I could benefit from. My relationship with Margot has been growing for a long time, so much that we can say I love you to each other. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of the disconnect, the way we don’t get along, the judgments, the guilt, the insecurity…I mean, I’m not saying that most of this stuff wouldn’t develop even in a new relationship but it shouldn’t be tolerated for this long. I just need to be alone. I need to be by myself…and have good friends around me. I love her so much. And this is the only thing holding me back from letting go. I know it will feel like death to separate. I already know what that feels like with her. Is it time to go through this one last time?

Eating a Grilled Cheese with lots of Tomatoes. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Lemonade.

All of us are hanging out in Darren and Anthony’s room—Alex Bailey is here drawing with his markers while Anthony and I jam on guitars making up haunting and cutsie melodies and grabbing lyrics from a letter this girl Leslie (a doodle monster) wrote…something about cucumbers stealing the pickle titleship…a silly song about Margot…“That’s the worst!”

Anthony and Rachel start counting down the minutes and seconds to my birthday. Midnight rolls around—they jump on top of me suffocating me with excitement…

Kevin brings home the goods (PIZZA)—eating a bunch of slices with an Oatmeal Stout…

We taped the big map of the world on the wall in the living room—Darren of course takes the opportunity to point out the political and economical flaws in each country—preaching about existential demise and being a slave.

Anthony: “I’m gonna kidnap you and we’re gonna walk the Appalachian trail! I’m 80% serious!”

Talking about Lauren, our nanny, Anthony says, “She’s our punk rock Mary Poppins.”

The queen had to close tonight but I agreed on her coming over after. She walks into my room with a look that says “I’m feeling pretty bad about life right now”. So we dive right into it, the dreaded conversation that makes us both feel pretty bad about life.

What do you want? What do you think we should do? There I am as usual trying to avoid making any kind of decision…,,,,I just want you to come to an understanding,,,,…it’s a sour exchange of words and she can’t get off it, this new character in my life, new friends…it makes her uncomfortable. It’s just another wrench in the machine, our machine, our home that we’ve created over a long period of time. And yet it’s a home with a list of repairs. “Let’s look at the issues between us…” I mean, there’s no difference in this discussion and the other discussions we’ve already had in the past two weeks. Should I stay or should I go? Should we keep this up or quit?

Me: “I need to feel free. And to be honest, I don’t feel free with you. The person you love should make you feel free, not caged. You stress me out a lot…I mean we do have our good times when we’re happy…”

…

There’s a really sad moment—my eyes get watery, “I’ve given so much of myself to you…” I kiss her shoulder and touch different parts of her body as if to make sure she’s not going to vanish.

This part’s a little lighter…

Her: “A woman’s allowed to change what she wants.”

Me: “So I’m not? That’s not fair.”

Her: “A man is supposed to be…[she firms up her left hand and swipes it through the air]”

Me: “What does that mean?”

She repeats.

Her: “That’s why a woman has curves and a man doesn’t.”

I watch her take off her work shorts, blue panties in sight. I immediately dart over instinctually and embrace her flaming presence. It’s time for love. We deserve that. I feel intensity in the way she moves and the way I respond…sweat developing on her slick sexy back. I last a while, with intention…to savor…the…fire.

Sleep sometime after 6 a.m.

Tuesday August 2 2011

DREAM: I walk outside of my house in Chanticleer but it’s a hotel setting—enclosed lobby and hallways. I’m holding my cell phone talking with Raven but trying to find a quiet place to chat. All the while I’m exploring the surroundings—discovering a bowling alley that seems to be open late at night, then a gym with basketball hoops. In my mind I make a note to show Anthony these places. I couldn’t believe we’d been living here all this time and never knew about a bowling alley or a gym. I try to explain to Raven over the phone the events from last night and how frustrating it was. The whole conversation is realistic and believable as if we were actually talking in waking life…but in contrast my dream environment is surreal and unrealistic. I finally find a storage room but there’s an annoying echo when I speak. I get off the phone eventually or maybe I still have her on hold. But I run into these two kids whom act very intrusive at first. But then we help each other find the way back to the correct hallway or block where we live….

Getting out of slumber sometime after 1 p.m.

Peaches.

Errands—running into Kelsie McNair and her mom at Target.

“Kelsie McNair!”

Blueberry Streusel Bread.

Anthony texts me in the middle of the day: “Trouble and anguish have taken hold on me. Yet thy commandments are my delights. The righteousness of thy testimonies is everlasting. Give me understanding and I shall live. Psalm 119:143-144”

Eating an Egg Sandwich with Tomato and Mayonnaise while Darren expresses to me his frustrations with the house and the people here…

Salt n Vinegar Chips and Lemonade.

Kevin and I browse through Anthony’s thrift store and bring in a nice haul of misc records, books, plates, pictures, a barometer, and a ship-themed blazer, which Kevin ends up rocking as he walks up to the BP gas station clerk for cigarettes.

Kelly Suddeth, whom most of us all know in some way or another, is over here—sharing Biscoff Spread Toast on a plate that says “Happy Everything”. I leave Hitcher in the Dark on the TV for her and Kevin to enjoy while I occupy myself upstairs.

Darren makes me an Old-Fashioned Cocktail.

Darren: “The whole reason I’m frustrated is because I haven’t been able to spread my seed.”

I decide to shave off my beard, but not all of it at first…a soul patch and a Hitler ‘stache…

Rachel: “Just cause you’re turning 80 doesn’t mean you have to be all crotchety!”

Carmen wears the Ice Cream sneakers I obtained from the thrift store along with some tube socks that say I So Don’t Care. Photo shoot time…

Carmen forces me to cook Beer Glazed Black Beans with Onions. I’m not opposed…

Eating leftover Rice-A-Roni with Mixed Vegetables with it and a Hoegaarden.

I’m feeling different—fresh. This whole day has been unproductive in a functional sense but constructive in my spirit—Lay back, Robert. Relax. Every problem and anxiety I have in my mind will have its time and acknowledgement. But for now…chill…fill…lift…touch…real,,,,,,no need to analyze…,,,just breathe, drink, eat. I need to be away from stress and tension—I need to feel free with my friends—social confidence...in myself…spreading love and light and humor.

These ○ Are ○ Our ○ Pains

Music Is My Place ○ Music Is My Catharsis ○ Music Is My Everything

Eating a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and finishing Appaloosa [2008].

Sleep before 5 a.m.

Monday August 1 2011

DREAM: My dreamself has obtained a moped, light green in color. Apparently I bought it off some guy on Craigslist for an affordable price. Leaving my 1435 townhome with it and riding to my old house at 1623 Michigan Avenue. It’s nighttime. I pull up to the house at the same time as Stephanie Lou—she’s strutting a hefty red dress and riding her own moped, red in color. She yells out to me, “Look at you! You’re riding something Leisa would never get.” It’s understood there was a conversation the other day where Leisa exclaimed she just wouldn’t ever buy a moped for whatever reason. My engine seems to be giving out, but just in time. I walk into my old home—my dad is living here now—most of my other roommates are here as well. There’s a puddle of water spilt on the kitchen floor. I get angry, “Are you serious? Not only does this happen at 1435 but now here too?!” No one seems to care. Anthony recently baked homemade Berry Streusel Bread that he’s very proud of. Eating a slice—it tastes delicious. Everyone else joins me…

Waking up a little bit earlier for China Wok so I have time to complete some prep work. Yesterday was non-stop and I didn’t even start the snow peas…

Breakfast: Peaches and Orange Juice. Zinc.

Working W6r25ng W6r25ng Working.

Watermelon…this one’s okay.

A slow relaxing afternoon…packing the bags—snapping the snow peas…

Lunch: Chic-fil-A Sandwich with Waffle Fries. Sweet Tea.

My half-assed vegetarianism shines bright…

A regular walks into the restaurant…he sees me with the snow peas…“Pickin peas! Pickin peas! You’re momma would be proud.”

A guy from 1436 Taureau Court calls in an order. I joke over the phone how I live at 1435 Taureau Court. His total comes out to be $14.37.

Lemonade.

This lyric from Apartment Story by The National always comes back to haunt me…

“Oh we’re so disarming darling, everything we did believe

Is diving diving diving diving off the balcony

Tired and wired we ruin too easy

Sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave

Hold ourselves together with our arms around the stereo for hours

While it sings to itself or whatever it does

When it sings to itself of its long lost loves

I’m getting tied, I’m forgetting why…”

It’s the kind of work shift where I can lay back in the driver’s seat while I coast the streets of Hilltop and say to myself Take it easy, Robert. Take it easy. That’s how slow it is today.

Quick nighttime dinner rush…

Back home…

Dinner: Edamame with Rice-A-Roni and Mixed Vegetables. Williamsburg White Ale.

I hear a tap at my bedroom door. It sounds like a girl’s. It’s Margot. She steps in without permission, shuts and locks the door, and smacks her lips on mine—she’s crying into my white Philip Uster t-shirt smearing some of her mascara into it. I wasn’t supposed to see her until at least Wednesday. But she’s here…

I missed you…

Baby, I missed you…

It turns sour shortly after. She brings up her insecurities over Raven being friends with me—making it sound like I need to make a choice—like choosing one over the other…

“Margot, this is ridiculous! This isn’t a war. I’m not choosing. I’m friends with her and that’s it. I’m still yours. I’m on your side…”

Becca’s here now because she’s supposed to cut my hair.

Outside, I’m standing by Margot’s car door—she just wants to spend the night with me and “make love to her boyfriend.” It’s a great gesture and I love the idea. But something is wrong. I’m exhausted. Becca’s waiting inside the house to cut my hair. I want to shower then go to bed. I’m tired. I don’t have healthy energy for the queen tonight. But she’s terribly sad and has been the past two days without me. She says she feels sick…

Her: I don’t want to start over…I’ve given so much of myself to you…

Me: I know how that feels…I feel the same way…

I can’t explain where the turning point occurred but skip a few minutes…and there’s yelling…she’s picking a fight with me…threatening to key my car if I walk off…she’s just not in a right state of mind, nor am I. She’s sobbing and heaving and weeping and crying…God, what is wrong with her? I hate seeing this. I hate that she feels such an intensity of pain. We’re not breaking up. But it feels like it. And we’ve both lost hope. I don’t know. Maybe I’ve gotten numb to these episodes, which is unhelpful, but a bad sign.

Becca finally cuts my hair all the while Kelley is tending to Margot outside trying to be a friend and help understand…

Now I have a mushroom head.

She left but called me multiple times while I was showering………Having an hour long phone conversation……same points made…same words shared…a few new revelations…this was not part of the plan tonight…I didn’t plan on using my energy tonight on this…I’ve been relaxed the past few days, uneasy about things, but relaxed—trying to allow the space to give me perspective…

Becca keeps sending me these little insightful texts…

“There’s a problem when a patient man loses patience.”

“Not to be funny, but you need to lay down the law, and that’s it. It would be better for her than baby spoon feeding her.”

“If talking isn’t solving or helping anything then its probably more beneficial to not talk.”

“Well if she cares about you then she’ll respect what you have to say and respect the law you lay down for yourself. Otherwise she only cares about what you can give her.”

Some of this makes sense to me…

Sleep 4:30 a.m.

Sunday July 31 2011

DREAM: Setting up the stage for a show that’s about to happen outside in a courtyard—people lined up. The cover is $5. Some are reluctant to pay until it’s considered a recommended donation price. Jake Clemons starts his performance…he’s sitting in a compact car with all the windows shut. Water starts to flood the inside covering up to his chin, acoustic guitar in hand. I can hear guitar sounds coming through the sound system. It’s a waterproof guitar apparently and it’s wirelessly plugged in. In the middle of it Josiah jumps in through the sunroof because it’s understood he has an infatuation for water…

Waking up just after 11:30 a.m.

Breakfast: Peaches and Orange Juice. Zinc.

All day shift at China Wok.

Rain—clouds—rain—clouds—the sun is absent—my skin is grateful.

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

Rediscovering some old tunes as I drive around…listening to Yo La Tengo albums…“You can only hurt the ones you love not the ones you’re thinking of.”

Snacking on Strawberry Rhubarb Pie and an Iced Coffee I snagged from Raven’s Starbucks. This will be the last time I get the hook up…

Delivering in Emerald Point Apts. They ordered a party platter. I packed it in a fortune cookie box, “I gotta box for ya.”

One of the guys lounging on the couch replies, “He said there’s bomb in it!”

This creates laughter and confusion around the room. Some of them confuse the word with bong, “Nah! He said bong!”

The deliveries are steady steady freddy…

Eventually things pipe down after 11 hours of straight driving—169 miles—and a record breaking tip total of $143.28…

Visiting Raven at her place—she’ll be moving to Richmond tomorrow creating less opportunities for hangout sessions.

Dinner: Vegetable Lo Mein. Cherry Coke.

We take a nightwalk…

Me: “It’d be cool if Gus Van Sant were filming this right now—just us walking—the camera directly behind us—everything unscripted…”

We make it to the BP gas station and purchase a Black n Mild. Raven has on a black T with “FUCK MEAT” prominently displayed. The cashier lady comments, “That’s nasty.” Raven doesn’t take a liking to the judgmental reaction…I propose the lady might not be offended by the vegetarian statement but maybe by the abrasiveness of the statement.

As much as the single strands of spider web are annoying to walk into, I collide into at least two full-on webs plus the spider throughout the stroll…the second encounter causes me to drop the cigar and lose it somewhere in the thick wet grass.

On the couch sharing music and photos from over the years—it’s interesting to realize how small of a world Virginia Beach really is after finding out the degrees of friends we both know………It’s an abrupt conclusion to the night after a phone conversation is required between her and her boyfriend. There’s discrepancies and uneasiness on his end over the new friendship that’s sparked between Raven and I, and some other personal issues in the relationship. I have an open ear to it because I see some of myself in these situations. I see the same scenarios, the same insecurities, and the same fears. I still have my Margot, even though we’re not speaking for a few days. For all I know, she could be consoling in someone else just like I am, some other guy who’s fresh and new. My heart is still with her though…because I love her. Boundaries are important in sensitive times like these. I will respect that…

Back home—walking into a jam session going on in the living—It’s important to note that Josiah is pantless and underwearless…

Quick recap chat with Anthony about our respective girlfriends and the in-limbo feeling…

His last words: “Be cool for the Lord.”

Sleep 4 a.m.