[i]-->
I wake up at 2:17pm.
Dream: I’m sitting in one of those toy picnic tables for kids in the backyard of my parent’s old house in Ocean Lakes. I had placed the table right by the wooden gate in the very back for some reason. I’m waiting for Phil and some unknown girl to join me. There’s a big plate of sliced Roast Beef from the Deli that’s been cooked and some kind of vegetables too. I’m barefoot and the ground is wet and muddy. They never come out and I question why I am out there. I start to bring the food into the house and Phil says he has to go. I didn’t believe him. I thought it was a joke. The front door is open and someone is there to pick him up. “Oh you really are leaving,” I say. He gives me that mischievous smile of his and walks out the door.
Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran with Cinnamon and Blueberries, Orange Juice, Zinc and Vitamin E.
I get online and invite people to read this blog.
Lunch: Toasted Peanut Butter and Strawberry Jelly Sandwich, Baked Lay’s, and Honey Green Tea.
I do nude modeling for a drawing group. This is my third time. I get paid to do four 20-minute poses with breaks in between. It’s strenuous to be still for so long and I’ve learned to be more comfortable with being naked in front of people. It’s interesting to see an artist’s perspective on my body. This time there was a sculptor. He asked me afterward if there was anyone on my mother’s side of the family that was bald, which is true.
Sculptor: “Enjoy it while you can.”
After modeling, I walk next door to Tortilla West and meet up with a bunch of friends. Most of the gang is there. I eat three Black Bean Burritos and a lot of Chips and Salsa. We play pool and I meet a few new people.
I drive home and park near my house on Ohio Avenue.
I can feel the delicate air seep through the phone and surround me.
Me: “I want to help you feel better…”
It cuts through and stops all words.
Her: “I just feel like you don’t want me around…”
The silence communicates much more than I imagine.
Me: “I’m a loner sometimes…”
I think about how much easier it would be to speak if I was mute.
Her: “You don’t even care…”
But then again, that would not make it very easy at all.
Me: “You keep holding onto my mistakes and make me feel guilty all the time.”
My brain feels like it’s tied in a knot.
Her: “Take responsibility for your feelings!”
The battery on my phone is dying.
Her: “Come over…”
My desires burst into a sexual fire.
Me: “You know I want to…so bad…”
I surprise myself at how strong I am.
Me: “I’m gonna have to say no, Margot…”
I think about the book of Proverbs.
Me: “It won’t help anything and it’s the right thing to do…”
I watch a possum cross the street.
Her: “I don’t care! Just come over…”
I really want to express how I do care.
Me: “I can’t. I’m not coming over.”
Her: “You’re a dick. I hate you!”
Me: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…I have to go.”
I eat a bowl of Honey Sunshine cereal and wash my dishes for the day.
I listen to some Arthur Rubinstein. It gives me solace.
I cuddle up with Ambrotious and feel his motor run while I read some of Notebooks of a Naked Youth.
No comments:
Post a Comment