Wednesday September 29 2010

DREAM: A bowl of Alpha-Bits cereal—a gorilla with a hint of red resembling the character Chaos from an old video game, Primal Rage. He jumps up on my lap—talking sweet to him as if he was a cute pet—I call him a normal name like Amy or Julie.

Just before 5 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Vitamin E.

Meeting a couple I found on Craigslist at their house. Buying a futon bunk bed from them. Their little boy is excited to show me his space ship made out of LEGOS.

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

MUSICPLAYER practice at the storage unit with Chris and Kal.

Chris describes his Radiohead concert experience with Josiah from a while ago: pouring rain—pants and shoes soaked—yuppies in front of them—getting high together.

Back home. Art wants to borrow a stick of butter to bake Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies with.

Cutting up Watermelon.

He helps me move the futon bunk bed into the shed and trailer—Ambrotious is outside lying in the middle of the road—it’s still raining lightly. “That little shit!” It’s not uncommon for me to come home and find the cat outside let out by other roommates. “Art, how hard is it for people to be careful opening the front door…apparently really hard.”

Eating cookies and milk.

Stretching and doing ab crunches—watching the rest of What to Do in Case of Fire [2001].

Dinner: Baked Cod Fillet. Steamed Artichoke with Yogurt Dip. Garlic Tortillas. Blood Orange Soda.

Watching Hitler Meets Christ [2007], a low budget film imagining a meeting with Jesus and Hitler.

At the storage unit—playing music—writing lyrics for a new song.

Reading…

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Tuesday September 28 2010

DREAM: Standing with a group of protesters holding signs in front of a building that say something in regards to God or something religious. Three black guys that look like hoodlum junkies approach us with obvious opposition for whatever reason (they think we hold contempt for African-Americans). I continue to hold my sign proudly. Then, I introduce myself to them with a courteous and joyous attitude—shaking hands and pounding our fists together. I leave and start running down the steps and over to a basketball court—Ken Nishimoto is with me. I’m carrying a glass of water but spill it crossing the court—the court is made out of those thick aerobic mats that are usually folded out in gyms. I start adjusting the basketball goal, which is a blow-up, and then I realize there’s a real one on the other side. I left my basketball inside so I go back to get it. Crawling up into an intricate version of my attic—people are drinking, smoking, and hanging out like there’s some party. Ladder, steps, ladder…I find the ball and invite everyone to play a game, “Hey everybody! Gonna go play a game of basketball. Whites versus Blacks. Come join.” I thought what I said was funny because it would be white people versus black people. At any rate, I make it back to the courts to find a game already being played. It’s red shirts versus black shirts, and it’s a mixture of black people, Hispanic people, and white people. I notice a little toddler, black with long hair jump up for a slam-dunk right over a tall guy. It gets replayed as if I’m watching a game on TV.

Sometime after 5:30 p.m. I get out of bed. Vampire I am.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Mint Tea. Zinc, Vitamin E.

Business…

Eating a Grilled Cheese with Tomato.

Watching Kyle and Elaina’s kittens meander around in their room—so tiny.

Vacuuming the house. Jamil is sweeping.

Emily accidentally squirts muscadine grape juice on her glasses.

We go for a walk in the neighborhood streets. The night air is clear and nice with the occasional obnoxious jet flying overhead. Smoking Sampoerna cigarettes. Amazed at our body clocks.

She tells me about a fender bender she had with Rocky in Norfolk: Rocky stopped in the middle of an intersection at the sight of Mab and Emily rear-ended her.

A kid and his dad ride by in a blue go-kart.

I express my frustrations with recording and how it’s irritating to have to worry about the technical side of things and focus on the artistic side at the same time.

We find the playground and go for a swing.

Remembering when we used to have game nights at Joey’s house.

Emily: “I really feel like Mae has changed my whole life, like in a very literal way…with a lot of your assistance.”

Back at the house.

Editing some tracks on Ableton.

Poker with Roma, Art, and James G.

Sharing Garlic French Bread with everyone—eating Edamame and Rice with Broccoli and Carrots. Drinking Blood Orange Soda.

The game is long and there seems to be a lot of distractions around us—Doug arrives with his stuff to move in. Art is getting impatient because he has to get up early for work. After an hour or so it boils down to just him and I. At one point, after only having two white chips I come back with an almost even amount compared to him. It’s late. I can tell he’s just ready to finish. He goes all in after the flop. I accept the challenge. All I need is a heart card to get a flush. The river comes and my dream comes true. Game over. Art slams his cards down and shoves all his chips across table, some bouncing on the floor. I’ve never seen him like this, upset in a legitimate way. I know he’s competitive but this was unbecoming of him. He requests us to gather the chips and cards as he marches off to bed.

James and I help Doug move his things into the attic.

James is trimming his head with the clippers in the showroom—buzzzzzz.

Shooting a few rounds at the basketball court.

Feeling light headed and shaky afterwards. Not sure why. But a bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Banana and Brown Sugar does the trick.

James inspired me to shave off my beard.

Craigslist business.

Recording and practicing at the storage unit.

Sleep around 7:50 a.m.

Monday September 27 2010

DREAM: A TV talk show is being filmed in a small chapel sanctuary. I’m one of the guests on the show—supposed to speak on something, maybe my life story. The black lady that’s hosting directs me to a clear glass container of black brushes with gold handles—she wants me to comb my hair so I look presentable on television. Looking in the mirror and using one of the golden brushes, I comb my hair off to the side showing my natural part—the sides of my head shaven shorter than I thought. I sit down in the crowd about two or three rows back. In front of me is a little black girl and her brother. For some reason they’re using my laptop to watch a movie. Trying to plug back in the earphones but the sound of the movie is loud and disturbs the people around us. I notice another guest on the stage getting fitted for a suit jacket by the host and some other workers. I hear my dad just outside the sanctuary doors making impatient calls and jokes about the show—everybody hears him. It sounds like he just wants me to get up there and do my thing and get past all this preliminary stuff. I keep looking back to see where he is, even looking for the red shirt I was certain he was wearing earlier but no luck. Doug Nicolson and someone else are standing up front now speaking about something techy. ☼☼☼ It’s nighttime and I notice the doors to the Sonic I used to work at are unlocked. I bring Emily and somebody else inside. They’re hungry so I offer them food. I peek around into the kitchen and grab some leftover onion rings and chicken patties. On the way back around I notice the trashcans are still full and need to be dumped—getting slightly irritated from it. I hand Emily and the guy the fried food. I apologize about the quality because it had been sitting out for so long. They don’t care.

Just before 4 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.

Ableton is still frustrating me but I’ve found another way around this particular bug in the program.

Ambrotious is sitting in the brown basket on the kitchen counter but he’s too fat for it.

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Muscadine Grapes.

Watching Christopher Nolan’s Following [1998].

Rearranging and cleaning my room.

Eating a little bit of Jamil’s Chicken with Rice and Vegetables.

With Margot and Jamil. We meet Ian, Frankie, and Becca at Waffle House.

Drinking Coffee and sharing Muscadine Grapes and Milky, a Japanese taffy candy.

Discussion about movies—actors and actresses and how they’re objectified from the recurring roles they play.

Me: “Margot, I want you to consider some things about life…I want you to think about life.”

Frankie: “My mom hung a zip lock bag with some water and some pennies in it and it keeps the fly away.” Ian: “It’s cause of Abe Linclon.” Me: “Yeah, maybe they have respect for the guy.”

The first waffle I ordered seemed to be cold so I ask for another one, hot. “Yeah, I’m gonna be one of those guys.”

Ian and Margot share their experiences with asshole customers from their restaurants.

Margot’s stoked about Beauty and the Beast coming out on DVD again.

Talking about costumes for Halloween. Becca is humored by the combination of words I choose, “Bunny Butt.”

There’s a huge ravine of water covering most of the parking lot. Margot walks out there in her pink rain boots. I entertain the idea of a kid’s book entitled Margot and Her Rain Boots.

We all head to Becca’s place for a little bit.

Becca and I re-enact the last time I was over here when her dad startled her enough to produce a scream out of her.

Analyzing the layout of her house, Margot says, “There’s a lot of weird spaces in here.”

Driving back home.

Irritated by the semi-trucks blocking our path and taking up both lanes on the highway, Margot lays down the law of the road: “The bigger trucks should be behind bigger trucks because they’re slow.”

Back at home—in my room with Margot.

We play a few games of Sequence—Flora Sapphira playing on my laptop.

This whole evening with her has been light and happy—a genuine happiness—being playful and making jokes. Some of the negativity and hostility tries to ruin the night but is quickly suppressed by more loveyness.

In reference to some of the comments that were made on yesterday’s blog, I joke about how I could post one word online like “lies” or “truth” or “sad” or “television” and everybody would find a way to interject their personal relevance to the word making it personal and about them.

Eating an Egg and Cheese Burrito in a Spinach Wrap and a Banana.

Restoring Emily’s laptop.

Editing tracks on Ableton.

Watching What to do in Case of Fire [2002] and eating Muscadine Grapes.

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Sunday September 26 2010

DREAM: In the gymnasium of London Bridge Baptist Church (when I was younger, my mom used to be a janitor there and I would hang out in the gym and play basketball). Lounging along the sidelines with my laptop excited that there’s WiFi—Felix and I sitting against the wall. Aaron is lying on his stomach facing away from us trying to nap I guess—he is completely clothed but his bare ass is showing. Felix makes a joke about waking up in the morning to find his butt in his face. Laughing. Conducting some business on my laptop—talking about how we’ve all pushed Tokyo (our former band) under the rug. Entertaining the idea if Tokyo got big without us knowing—I tell them about the contest on itunes where you submit a single and Adam of Owl City will listen and give a personal review of his favorite. I uploaded our song, “Bridge”. A coach across the gym blows the whistle and we all have to line up for basketball practice. There’s a bunch of other kids there as if it were a youth group event. Everybody’s lined up and ready to go. I’m in position but then I realize I don’t have my shoes on—I imagine sliding across the slick floor and falling. I run back to grab them as they stand and wait for me impatiently. It’s taking me a long time to put on my brown boots—slipping them under my jeans. My dad is there, a chaperone I guess. I joke with him, “Remember all the basketball camps I went to?” He chuckles thinking about it. The coach blows the whistle and we start. I’m not sure what to do. I watch the others and figure it out. With no ball involved you’re supposed to “attack” another person by using both hands and squeezing their arms. I try this on a few people, “Gotcha!” I continue on. I remember seeing a few cute girls earlier. I sneak attack one of them, and then I kind of leave the game and walk over to the kitchen nearby. Another girl approaches me from behind grabbing my butt. “Ooooh,” I respond playing along but inside I’m kind of weirded out by it. Getting a drink of water from the water fountain. It’s squirting off to the left with too much force. I notice kids getting pizza out of the kitchen. I was wondering when they were going to feed us…

Around 3:30 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Black Tea with Honey. Zinc.

Work at China Wok.

Lunch: Egg and Cheese Burrito from Sonic. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.

Number of Non-Tippers for this Shift: 0

Groceries at Kroger. I found Watermelon!

Fixing up a new fail-safe DVD/VCR entertainment system for the house.

Ken, Rocky, and Emily are home—Ken and Emily having a meeting for the film they’re making. Ken says there is a rumor that 14 cats died in the making of Milo and Otis.

Rocky is super stoked as she reads the band list for the CMJ festival.

As soon as Emily leaves the house for Norfolk, Kenneth walks in excited about a printer he just found. He leaves, then Jamil walks in. I marvel how much this past hour has resembled a sitcom. “See! This place is a sitcom!”

Watching the movie, The Invention of Lying [2009], which depicts a world where no one has the ability to lie. Rocky is doing yoga, as I use the purple Ab-roller for crunches, as Ken is eating leftover flounder, as Jamil is on his laptop—quite a laughable scene.

Rocky leaves for New York to visit Josiah.

Chomping down on Muscadine Grapes. “I can’t stop, Ken.”

In the kitchen making dinner while Roma is on Skype with his parents in Russia.

Dinner: Baked Tilapia with Onions. Jasmine Rice. Fresh Steamed Broccoli. Garlic French Bread.

I think I hear Roma talking in his sleep.

Getting frustrated with the internal bugs I’ve been discovering in Ableton. Trying to remedy the situation.

Eating a bowl of Crisp Rice and Frosted Toasties together with Mango.

Troubleshooting at the storage unit.

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Saturday September 25 2010

DREAM: A convention in the streets of London or some European style city. Everyone is there representing different colors. My team is Orange. With a few friends running around flagging this orange board in my hands—crowds on the sidelines. A water slide to my right—kids are sliding down it into a ditch. It feels cold outside and I make mention how I will never get in that water. Later, I’m with who I think is Logan LoLa at first but then she changes into some unfamiliar man. We’re scoping out a hotel building getting off on various floors. We’re a part of some kind of plan to infiltrate the hotel as spies. Random scenes of affection with him behind closed doors and hallways.

Around 4 p.m. I get out of bed.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Black Tea. Zinc.

I discover a slew of gnats flying around my cup of discarded grape skins. At first I thought they were fleas, but was comforted when I read that fleas don’t fly but hop.

A nice housewife on youtube suggests I take a small bowl of apple cider vinegar and a tiny drop of dish soap and place it in the infected area. The gnats are attracted to it and when they go to take a drink, they drown.

I see Kenneth walking up to the house. I give him some hot water for his Cup of Noodles and a briefing on the new laptop I’m gonna sell him. He’s really excited about having his own computer and now he can start his own craigslist account.

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

Work at China Wok.

Eating tons and tons of Muscadine Grapes.

Number of Non-Tippers for this Shift: 0

Back at home. Just before 10 p.m. people start to pile into the house for SHOW N TELL.

James Nee tells me an ice cream story where he ate all his roommates’ ice cream and felt bad about it. Also, I should mention he is a professional ice cream thief.

There seems to be a lot of spoken work at this one.

Especially interested in William’s where he created this concoction of herbs to induce more vivid dreaming.

It’s good to see new and familiar faces—mingling and socializing—drinking…

Dinner: Pad Thai Noodles with Vegetables.

She gets jealous of other boyfriends and girlfriends who spend the night with each other.

A bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Brown Sugar.

Recording at the storage unit.

Eating a slice of Peanut Butter Toast and Muscadine Grapes.

Relaxing…

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Friday September 24 2010

DREAMS: With my mom and Jimmy (stepdad) trekking across the mountainous lands of Japan. It’s beautiful here and it’s hot. Crossing a bridge—to the right on the edge are little cubicle buildings, maybe storage units. The doors to them are opened as if people were using them just a minute ago. Suitcases, clothes, lawn chairs scattered in, out, and around the grass next to the bridge. We get to a down slope and approach a huge entrance where people are waiting for their families and friends to arrive. There’s a group of people in particular excited to see their respective loved ones. We walk over knowing we don’t know them and pretend to be excited to see them. They get the joke and we move on. A Japanese lady and an American man are waiting for us at the gate. We meet up. I see a huge castle-like structure off to the right set upon the edge of a cliff. At first I thought it was some kind of temple, but the Japanese lady corrects me. She explains that after an accident or when physical wounds are inflicted people will go there to get photos of the wounds. It didn’t make sense to me because why would you take the time to get that done when you could just go to a hospital? It must be part of their culture. We continue walking. Our hands brush up against each other’s. She grabs hold of mine—my hand is cold and hers is warm—I feel comfortable. Her face is adorable. I thought the American guy was her boyfriend but the way she’s acting towards me says the opposite. We weave through the hallways of an elementary school. I look back to make sure my parents are still following. We keep slipping along the floor and falling—eventually making it to a gymnasium where a ping-pong tournament is being held. Black people are swinging their paddles back and forth along three tables at once. One of them scores and a friend nearby strums a chord repetitively on an invisible guitar as a sign the game is over, just like at the end of a song when the last chord is hit. I can actually hear the electric power chord being played. ☼☼☼☼☼ An escalator that’s flat with no steps. I’m preparing to ride down it with my long board. I look out at a beautiful nightscape—full bright moon. I stall and start collecting change on the ground. A kid slides down the escalator slope almost hurting himself at the bottom. Four men who are a part of the school faculty confront me. One of them is ridiculing me for what I’m about to do because it could be dangerous, the other kid already proving that. I respond with a sense of pride and a confident attitude, “You don’t know my personality enough to say things like that!” I continue on with statements a teenager would say but in a sarcastic fashion, “Don’t judge me! I’m an individual. Freedom! Blah. Blah. Blah…” Progressively getting louder. Then, I take a heroic rebel turn and direct my rant to all the students that have gathered around us watching the stand-off, “This is a public schools facility! Ladies and gentlemen…GO LEARN!!!” All the students cheer and applaud in a victorious spirit, and exit the big room. One of the four men leaves the group. And the man who originally confronted me earlier asks another guy, “Don’t you find his voice annoying?” In my mind I wanted to respond I think YOUR voice is more annoying. I go to walk away and a bunch of blind girls, all of them with the same exact face, their eyes wide open, maybe they have Down Syndrome. Alyssa Jackson approaches me from out of nowhere. She’s wearing this black and white drape-like outfit and asks me, “Do you like my dress?” I don’t really answer her but she hands me a new laptop with an incredibly thin keyboard, seems to be cut in half and the letter keys stretch out. A new version of Microsoft Word is open on the screen. All of it in a sleek black theme. I start typing a bunch of mumbo jumbo words including my name in and other information about me like my address and such. I go around the corner and climb the stairs. I hear Margot’s voices—she’s sitting on a couch nearby—other people hanging around her. She starts to read something out loud, “We’re on a trip…” It sounded like she was reading something out of my journal—afraid she had found it again. But she wasn’t.

Just after 4 p.m. I wake up

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam.

I ride my bike to the auto shop to get my van back (new alternator)—taking the highway and staying off to the side—sun glaring in my eyes.

Emily barges into the room excited like a little puppy dog about going to the Virgin Festival in Maryland with Wesley (Pavement is performing along with Ludacris).

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

Starting a detective thriller, The Horsemen [2009].

Working on my new desktop computer, setting up Ableton, and other business.

Chris stops by and I help him unload his drums at the unit.

Dinner: Shrimp with Green Curry and Jasmine Rice and Garlic Tortillas.

Finishing The Horsemen [2009].

Muscadine Grapes.

Organizing and rearranging the space at the storage unit.

Eating Frosted Shredded Cereal.

Practicing and recording.

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Thursday September 23 2010

DREAM: A corporation is holding the two of us for experiments. We’ve been trying to escape numerous times and keep getting caught. Crawling behind walls and corridors—an outside structure. I tell him to lay low because I see a guy with long black hair and a sniper rifle hiding in the distance. We make it to an open area—we have to run now if we’re going to avoid the sniper. A tall fence. The workers come from both directions and they seize us once again.

4:30 p.m. getting out of bed.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.

Stretching and talking to my mom on the phone—just catching up. Jimmy gets on the line briefly, “You know how it is. Your mom talks a hundred minutes a day.”

Mom: “I wish I could hold you, hug you, squeeze you.”

A little bit of DOOM.

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

Jamming at the storage unit before Chris arrives to help load up for the show tonight.

On the way to Winston’s Café with Jamil. I brought a bucket of the scuppernong grapes to indulge in. Jamil: “Eating grapes on the road.”

My battery light had been flashing on the dashboard. Before we left I even charged the battery just in case. But right as we get off I64 the van cuts off at the first stoplight. Broken down—Kal, Chris, and Jamil start pushing while I steer. Then a man in a white pickup truck offers to power it from behind all the way to the parking lot. Thankful my car didn’t quit on me while I was on the highway.

Playing as MUSICPLAYER with The Invisible Hand and Lo.La. A decent turnout—with good friends. Strong performances.

Back home. Eating some Chicken Potato and Vegetable dish Jamil cooked earlier today along with Garlic Bread and some of Elaina’s birthday cake.

Margot and I drop off the equipment at the unit. She’s ahead of me carrying the suitcases and starts to pick up the pace as if we’re racing. “I win!” she exclaims. This is the pleasant side I like to see in her—being randomly playful and happy. No arguing. Nothing disheartening. Just good old-fashioned romantic chemistry. “So what, are we going to have sex now?” Without question she replies with a “mmhmm.”

Eating a bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Brown Sugar.

Back to the unit on my bike for a few hours of recording.

Sleep 7:30 a.m.

Wednesday September 22 2010

It’s about 8:30 a.m. I haven’t even had the pleasure of falling asleep for more than an hour before I hear the Civil War of 1623 fire up. The roommates are at it again; or rather the girlfriend is going berserk on the boyfriend. Thud. Bam! Doors slam over and over again. Frenetic yelling and screaming. She keeps repeating herself, “Why?! Why?! Why?! Why?! Why?!” I finally make sense of the possible cause of all this, “Why would you call me a stupid bitch on my birthday!!!” Even with my earplugs in, it’s disturbing enough to keep me awake and I’m forced to listen. She sounds possessed. Eventually, jets overhead start up and my brain can regard it as white noise helping me get back to sleep.

DREAM: An army of ants has invaded a house I’m in. They look more like over-sized spiders—ugly, creepy, red, and disgusting. They’re hidden behind the walls and windows. I’ve warded them off into the bathroom. Now I’m outside in the street hanging out with a few friends. A black lady in an old Cadillac pulls up. I try to speak to her, “Oh it’s a nice night isn’t it?” She avoids any conversation and yells out “I just want to find my Sufy!” She darts into the driveway. I remembered then that a guy named Sufy was still inside dealing with the ants. He may be dead.

Waking up around 3:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc.

I drive Margot and I out to Blackwater Vineyards to pick Scuppernong and Muscadine Grapes. She talks about wanting to be a care bear for Halloween with her co-workers—describing all the different care bears.

Margot: “Yeah…well…so…”

We have to take an unnecessarily long detour.

Eating Tuna Sandwiches before we start gathering.

She’s afraid of all the bees buzzing around her ankles. Listening to her talk to them, “Go away!”…“They’re around me forever”.

Back at the house. After cleaning the grapes, we retreat to my room—touching, caressing, nuzzling my face on her chest and shoulders—pleasuring myself inside of her as she pleasures herself on top of me. She’s so good.

MUSICPLAYER practice at the storage unit with Chris and Kal.

Taking a break outside—they smoke cigarettes. Chris confides in us about these genuine romantic feelings he has for a girl. Kal turns into Dr. Phil, or maybe Dr. Drew, directing him on the right thing to do. I put in my two cents as well. Kal is still intent on his theory that being an asshole to a girl somehow has this counter effect and increases their attraction towards you. At any rate, Chris comes to a conclusion: “Let her miss ME now.”

Sharing the Muscadine Grapes with Roma and Jamil.

Getting help with Art restoring an old laptop.

We go to the basketball court for a few games.

Setting up Windows XP on my new desktop—copying files—troubleshooting.

Drinking a cup of Crisp Rice Cereal.

Reading…

Sleep 7:20 a.m.

Tuesday September 21 2010

DREAM: There’s a party at Will Huberdeau’s house in Williamsburg. (Note: In waking life I’ve never been to his house and have no knowledge of what it looks like). I walk inside to find a two-room white-walled gymnasium—kids playing basketball. Feeling confused, I walk back outside—talking to Will and explaining that in another dream I was flying inside a slide on a playground just two houses down from his. He shows me back inside past the gymnasium and into a kitchen with lily pads wrapped up near the sink. I’m really hungry so I cook something simple and explore the house further. Other people have already started to pour in and are scattered about. I creep into a room that I assume is Will’s. Nobody’s in here though. Just me. It’s a larger bedroom. In the far corner is a makeshift foosball table without legs. Next to it is a pool table. Across is a queen size bed, unmade, sheets sprawled out. Nightstand with lamp, magazines and papers, maybe guitar picks. A brown entertainment center with a TV on it. I expected to see an old video game console like Nintendo or Sega. Along the other wall is another brown entertainment center with a TV playing an old 80’s flick—catching a scene in the movie where a cool black guy wearing a red headband is driving down the street being chased by somebody and telling jokes. At this point in the dream I am very aware of everything around me—it seems so real. I feel as if I’m on the set of a movie or actually in Will’s room. ☼☼☼ In some kind of warehouse. I’ve been in this place before in another dream confronting a drug lord. Mab is here instead. I have a crush on her and there’s an unwelcome distance between us.

Around 4 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Work at the ice cream shop.

Reading the second DOOM novel.

Lunch: Hard Boiled Eggs. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Fresh Mango.

Sitting on the black stool—it’s slow, slow, slow.

Reading…

Strawberry and Peach Ice Cream.

Back at home, stretching and exercising.

I go to the basketball courts for about 20 minutes. The baseball field lights were left on so I had plenty of bright light available for me to play well. I like these basketball excursions. I can think about things.

Walking up to the porch. Art is sitting in one of the white lawn chairs with a Miller High Life in his left hand and a cigarette in his right. “This is the best part of day,” he tells me. “Sitting here (with cigarette and beer)…thinking of nothing…looking at the stars.” He’s especially interested in one that seems to be twinkling red and blue. We establish that it’s most likely a satellite.

Dinner: Spaghetti with Onions. Garlic Bread.

Poker with Art and Roma.

Drinking Coffee with Cream and Sugar. Eating Peach Pie.

I win the second game against Art with a flush and both of us all in. It’s a dramatic moment when the exact card I need shows it’s victorious face on the river.

My life is entertainment for others.

Recording at the storage unit. Capturing some really beautiful moments.

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Monday September 20 2010

DREAM: I have a bowl of strawberries. I find 4 slices of butter pound cake in plastic wrap. I want to share them with my music teacher. She calls me by the name of Valor or something that starts with a “V”. Switch to a scene in a gymnasium. I’m sitting inside a half open tent during a classroom session. The teacher is introducing a new student up at the front—a tall white girl, conventionally beautiful. Trying to locate a good spot for her to sit, she asks the class, “Raise your hand if you’re not attracted to this girl.” Or maybe she said, “Raise your hand if you do not like this girl.” Either way, I immediately push my hand in the air and the girl comes to sit with my group in the tent. ☼☼☼☼☼ MUSICPLAYER show with two stages. While we prepare on stage, my mom is performing a set on electric guitar. I hear her voice begin to sing in a nervous manner but as she goes on she starts to sound more confident. I think to myself how proud I am to have such a talented mother.

Just after 3 p.m. I wake up.

Receiving my daily hug from Ambrotious where he stands on his hind legs atop the stool in the kitchen and stretches his front paws across my chest. He loves me.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.

I can’t even finish my afternoon routine and she already calls me wanting to have the same conversation we had last night. Something I said in my blog reiterated some fears in her—probably in both of us. It’s heavy, then mushy, then scary, then light, then nice, then playful. A good way to start the day—her version of a cat hug. She loves me.

I go to the store. Walking out of Target I notice a skinny white boy with a beard entering. It’s strange because just last week that same kid was entering as I was leaving at the same time.

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

Watching In the Bedroom [2001]. Sissy Spacek is my favorite movie mom.

Testing out this new desktop PC I bought for $20 at the thrift store. I have to re-install windows and whoever owned it last did not clean it at all so I go to Big Lots again to grab DVDR’s and a compressed duster can.

I head over to Becca’s salon for a haircut. I inform her of the recent dilemmas over the weekend—they seem to be causing more damage than expected but it will be okay.

Then, we head to Waffle House. Eating a bowl of Chili with an Egg and a cup of Coffee with Cream and Sugar. A seahorse design formed in my cup from the cream.

Back at her house—baking a Peach Streusel Pie from scratch. Re-enacting some of the photos we took of each other the last time we baked a pie, exact pose and all. She’s washing the dishes and at some point she stops and asks me, “Do you hear that?” She peers out through the hallways but nothing seems to be there. Then all of a sudden she belches out a scream so high pitched I’m sure it wakes the whole house up. That scream even convinces me I should be afraid of whatever it is, which just so happens to be her dad creeping up the stairway to get a drink of water. The act of being startled is so strange to me—that in your mind, only for a second, whatever it is that’s doing the startling is a foreign enemy, something unknown, something that should not be there. But then after that second is over and all your senses start working again, you feel safe. Enjoying the delectable flavors of the pie and a cold glass of milk.

Back at home. Business. Scheduling.

Practicing music at the storage unit.

Sleep 7:30 a.m.

Sunday September 19 2010

9:14 a.m. James taps on the tent waking me up to go back to Virginia Beach.

Dozing off and on in the backseat.

Back to sleep in my purple lit room.

DREAM: Jamming on the guitar in some wooden room, maybe a restaurant. A girl and her father are listening. I decide to play some covers to keep their attention—beginning the first chords to “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt. James is beside me singing along. Switch to a scene at a small airport. Mark Padgett, Thomas McNabb, and Pogge arriving from somewhere—here in town early to prepare for the Mae farewell tour. At some hotel cabin with everyone setting the schedule for the day.

A little after 3 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Black Tea with Honey. Zinc.

Business.

Then, talking with Teresa on the phone trying to make more sense of what happened last night. Convincing ourselves that being respectful to the people we’re already with is important in spite of anything else.

Work at China Wok.

Lunch: Egg and Cheese Burrito. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Orange Juice. Vanilla Yogurt.

Number of Non-Tippers for this shift: 1

First Non-Tipper

Race/Description: Caucasian couple in their early 30’s

General Location: Linkhorn Bay off Birdneck

Type of Residence: Medium Sized Apartment

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): ***

Amount of Order: Over $20

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Friendly

Figuring out the bills.

Margot comes over and we go for a walk through the neighborhood. The clear cool air is necessary for this kind of talk. I did something that broke that little inkling of trust she had. But I didn’t cheat on her—I just did some things with somebody that were questionably teetering on the border of cheating. I told her I would be honest and inform her if anything like this occurred which I did. She’s thoroughly upset and disappointed and it doesn’t help any of the progress we’ve been making the past month. I don’t even know if you can call it progress, more like stabilization. The explanations I give her and the angered rebuttals lead to the bigger issue of being happy with each other and statements like Why keep trying if it isn’t going to work out. I express my fear of losing her again. Inside I know I really am scared of this but part of me thinks that it could be the right step to something beneficial for both of us individually.

We go back inside. I throw some Campbell’s Vegetable Beef Soup on the stove. Chowing it down with Garlic Bread. It’s relieving to get the heavy talk out of the way and just feel light.

Later, in my room. I was planning on doing something more physical like playing basketball but my eyes feel weighty and sore from the off-course sleeping schedule over the weekend.

I talk with Teresa on the phone some more. Coming to the understanding that having a beneficial and platonic friendship is completely possible, and of course was the original plan to begin with upon first meeting, especially in my mind. She expresses her concern to be respectful and sensitive to Margot to which I agree is appropriate. Talking about seasons in life and how to know when a season is beginning or ending.

I desire happiness just like anybody else—still holding true to my loner habits and desiring to feel freer. I just want to be free. I don’t want to hurt people but I also want to be true to myself. Ugh…there are so many thoughts running through my head. I need strength and guts.

Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat Cereal.

Finishing the first DOOM novel and moving onto part 2.

Watching the rest of Presumed Innocent [1990]

Sleep around 5:15 a.m.

Saturday September 18 2010

DREAM: I’ve abandoned her…or she’s abandoned me…or maybe we just abandoned each other. It’s over now. But really it was probably just me that did the abandoning because that would resemble more closely to waking life behavior. The hours pass, then the minutes, and then seconds. I see her in the hall—upset, with the usual sad and disappointed face. “I’m sorry,” I say while grabbing her body and embracing it with love. Something’s going to change…

11:11 a.m. I sludge out of bed to make it for my 10-hour shift at China Wok.

The jets are conducting an air show right above my house, literally.

The other day I used this purple scarf to cover up one of my windows and eliminate some of the bright light while I sleep. The whole ora of my room has changed—enjoying the new purple glow it emits.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Mint Tea.

Delivering an order near Harper’s Road. I have to putt-putt through the air show traffic on Oceana. I knock on the wrong door and have to call the lady just to find out she’s only two doors down. I apologize to her. She says to me, “It’s one of those days…it’s a rough one.” She must’ve been experiencing the same stress I was having today.

I got so angry today I cursed the sun out loud and imagined shooting a gargantuan size rocket at it in hopes it would block out the charring rays in my eyes. At times like these I wish I had something to squeeze and cause damage to at my whim, but all I have is the cushioned seat next to me. Sometimes I hate. Sometimes I love.

Cops are all over the place, on every corner. “Chaos on the road!”

Delivering an order on N Oceana. A flamboyant young black guy dressed in women’s clothes answers the door. I immediately thought of the loud-mouthed rape guy on youtube. He even had the crazy sister at his side. One of his friends on the couch spouts out to me, “Do yall hire black people?” I was tending to the order and didn’t answer him. Then he re-words it, “Do yall hire African-Americans?” Not sure how to answer I reply, “I don’t see why not.”

Number of Non-Tippers for this shift: 2

First Non-Tipper

Race/Description: African American Male in his late 20’s

General Location: N Oceana

Type of Residence: Small Duplex

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): *

Amount of Order: Over $31

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Friendly

Second Non-Tipper

Race/Description: Caucasian Female Mother

General Location: Snow Goose off Fremac

Type of Residence: Medium sized Apartment

Quality of Residence (5-Star Rating): ***

Amount of Order: Under $20

Friendly/Non-Friendly: Friendly

Dinner: Vegetable Lo Mein. Apple Juice.

In the backseat of the car. James and our new friend in the front. I tell them how I almost accidentally opened the front door of my boss’s minivan today thinking it was my own. We entertain the idea if it was a complete stranger’s van instead and there were kids in the back. I would just drive off to deliver my orders—the kids not knowing what was happening. The kids, intelligent enough to talk about interesting things with me. I would arrive back to the restaurant just in time when the mother, unaware of the adventure her kids just had, is ready to leave. I’d wave to my newfound friends and continue on my day. This would be a short film of course.

Arriving at 121 Woodland Drive in Newport News, the lovely abode of Angel Graves and Renee Shuman—it’s Renee’s 21^st birthday. Fresh faces and laid back socializing. Talking with Renee in the kitchen—my beautiful friend, your energy was missed—updating our stories.

Playing one of Angel’s battered guitars with new acquaintances—drinking a vodka and juice mixture. The guitar is missing the G-string—droning in the key of E—singing a bluesy chant in unison—on the bed with everyone. There’s a sudden awareness in her eyes—high on a new feeling. We go for a walk. The night air is cool and natural. I’m out of my element yet comfortable—smoking Sampoernas and talking about our current romantic relationships with other people. Leaning against the rear of a car, her back to me—I hold on to her from behind as she resembles a cherub statue in a water fountain pose yet live movement.

There’s a deejay down in the basement blasting the latest remixes—making me feel like I’m a part of a narrative nightlife scene in a music video.

I mingle around playing the no-g-string guitar. Sitting down next to a girl named Ashley singing aloud a made-up “That’s what she said” diddy we made up an hour ago.

Inside the tent on the patio…most everyone has gone to sleep. There’s a weed after smell leftover from someone else. I watch her body slither and maneuver like a mermaid among the sheets—stretching her arms and legs—just observing, then caressing her Japanese chocolate skin. Throughout the night she repeats to me her concern to be respectful, yet there’s a wild fire controlling her and I’m not sure I can resist a response. However, I won’t allow anything further. She keeps asking about her phone to call her family. Eventually, she decides to curl up in a ball on the round sofa chair like a pearl in an oyster. I cover her with the blanket and retreat into the kitchen.

There’s mild drama with one of the roommates. Renee gives me some applesauce for sustenance.

Sleep 5:15 a.m.

Friday September 17 2010

DREAM: A big arena. A path protruding high above the ground designed for an obstacle course. Lined along the boundaries of the course sit tons of people, mostly of a young age—their heads just below the foot of the path. A boy comes out of a boxy entrance—a host is introducing the player on a loudspeaker. The boy is a champion and has never lost a match. I am him now. I start running on the obstacle course and make it to what they call “Round 1” which is a brown picnic table. I have to accomplish something before I go further but I’m getting frustrated because I don’t know what it is. Frantically, I yell at the guy manning the table, “What am I supposed to do? What do I do?!” Finally, I see that I have to blow out these two candles. Even though I’m in the body of this champion, it’s still me and I’m new at this. I continue on. The crowd is cheering. I scramble through the course hitting “Round 2” then “Round 3” and I finish. Looking at a chalkboard, or maybe it’s a dry erase board. Somebody beat my time and I only get second place.

Around 3:30 p.m. I wake up.

I think I remember hearing Kenneth outside my door about an hour ago. I find a written note from him in the show room.

The jets are exceptionally loud right now—soaring overhead and it feels like they’re only at 10 feet distance from the house. Art makes mention to me about this. Later, I find out there’s an air show going on.

Downloading music.

Cleaning the bathtub and shower curtain. Phew.

Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Work at China Wok for a couple hours.

Selling just a box spring to a couple.

Chris calls me from inside my room dressed to the nines. He’s looking for something to do tonight. Sitting on the couch—he puts on shades and tells me he feels like he’s in a Fellini film.

Watching some MUSICPLAYER footage with him.

Dinner: Chicken Alfredo with Broccoli. Garlic Bread. Carrots.

JP always tends to show up at the right time, when I’m making food. Enjoying dinner together on the marble green card table. He’s happy that he finished writing lyrics for a composition he’s been working on called One Singultus. Reading it aloud—enjoying the tricky rhythm of the words. Pointing out my favorite bits. He says he could write his own 40-page analysis of it. Scanning through the artwork on his deviantart page while he describes the back-story for every one. Washing dishes together, we share our personal grievances on roommates with bad dish etiquette. Washing dishes has gradually become a pleasure since I’ve moved into this house.

Me: “Sometimes I feel like the ‘mom’ of this house.”

Sitting back down. JP tells me about a 107-year-old man whose claim to longevity is only eating one big breakfast a day.

Sipping Coffee with Honey and Soymilk—watching some funny new youtube videos: the rave dog with cerebellar hypoplasia, the skateboard moonwalk, and the dancing man that gets hit by an ice cream truck.

My friend Verity from Australia sends me a dream she had involving me: “You were in dream last night. I came to va. I drove from sydney in my car. The distance was if I had driven to a friends place here. We were hanging out, and your girlfriend was jealous of me. So she invited this religious like cult over so I would leave. One of your friends said that if we showed them we like squares they would leave. Which they did. But hours later they returned in full force. Kinda zombie like style trying to attack us into converting. It turned into a massive civil war and to escape we had to find places that 'rebelled' society. I ended up in a tattoo shop, while you stood at the door shooting who seemed to be the "queen bee" of the cult. =”

Recording at the unit—getting some beautiful guitar tone.

Eating a small bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Brown Sugar.

Sleep around 6:45 a.m.

Thursday September 16 2010

DREAM: A heroic surfer from Australia survives a snake attack. Watching a re-enactment. A pool. He’s standing near the edge. A giant snake strangely called “Tycoon,” which in my mind I thought my dream messed up and meant to call it “Python”. Either way, the giant snake attacks the surfer and coils around his body bringing him down into the water. I see a close-up image of the snake’s face, which resembles a skeletal-like triangular face with hollow pink eyes. The surfer is in battle for a quite a long time but eventually looses the snake’s hold and escapes. I’m about to walk into clubhouse nearby and join the others when I look back at the snake slithering around in the pool. “You suck!” I tell it. The snake pulls itself up on the edge at the far end leaning against the railing, sort of posing. It looks more like a magical dark-skinned mermaid now. I counter with my own reply, “But you’re beautiful.” Seductively, she mouths to me thank you as I walk back into the building and join the others.

Just before 4 p.m. I get out of bed.

Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Black Tea with Honey. Zinc.

http://rathausartprojects.com/blog/2010/07/22/laura-keeble-mermaid-corpse/

Trip to the store.

Lunch: Grilled Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea. Vanilla Yogurt with Peaches.

Watching First Snow.

Figuring out some kinks in this movie editing software, Sony Vegas.

Stretching, then playing basketball across the street.

Emily’s about to go to sleep—recapping an upsetting situation between her and Margot.

Dinner: A mixture of leftover Sinigang—adding Broccoli, Squash, Carrots, and Egg to it. Garlic Toast.

Finishing the movie First Snow.

Eating Chocolate Chip Cookies and Milk.

Recording at the storage unit.

Eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes with a Banana.

Reading.

Sleep around 7:15 a.m.

Wednesday September 15 2010

DREAM: Working for a taxi service in an Olde English town. Everybody’s dress seems to be of the late 19^th century. I yell out to my co-worker, “Let’s open up the law firm!” I let him start up the law firm business as I meander outside. One of my other co-workers is standing there in a long black raincoat with a few other men—sleek black limousine with purple interior parked on the street. The front hood is open to attract customers. Wesley is there. I confront him about something related to the battle of the bands in Fredericksburg (in waking life he passed this opportunity along to MUSICPLAYER). He seems to be hiding something and I figure out that the open spot on the bill has already been filled. I make a conjecture that Elliott’s band is playing place of us now. He still doesn’t admit it. Looking at the bill written out on paper—I’m right. ☼☼☼☼☼ Floating in a boat that’s made of a giant cardboard box. We dock into a small harbor behind this structure. One of my comrades is worried we will get raided by the people nearby so we stay hidden. All of a sudden, the people spot us and, in a frenzy, start hopping onto the boat. There’s a rope line connecting us to ground and can help steer the boat. I pull the line to get us away but the mob is persistent. I yell out, “We have food! We can give you food. Just hold on.” The boat slowly moves around the corner. The people are throwing money right and left as we exchange it for the food supplies we have.

3 p.m. waking up.

Sipping on Passion Tea and taking a Zinc pill.

Grocery shopping. Watermelon is scarce but there are plenty of pumpkins out there.

Eating a Hard-Boiled Egg and a Toasted Bagel with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Honey Oolong Tea.

Working on Ableton.

Tennis with Art and Jamil. Successful wins.

Eating Watermelon.

MUSICPLAYER practice at the storage unit.

Kal introduces me to a mathcore band called Daughters.

Eating a mix of Roasted Potatoes with Beef, Onions, and Peppers. Green Beans and Cauliflower. Garlic Bread. Modelo.

Working on Ableton while chowing down on Trader Joe’s version of Reese’s cups.

On the way to Margot’s house talking with Phil on the phone. He tells me about his plans to road trip to the West and settle down in a place that feels right.

At her house now, watching a riveting documentary called The Cove about the dolphin slaughter going on in Taiji, Japan. It’s actually really touching and an interesting study on how easily secrets can be kept from society. The dolphin is an underestimated and magical creature of the earth.

Lounging around on the couch. A humorous show called Animals Behaving Badly is on Animal Planet—junkie monkeys who rub millipedes on their mouths for the sole purpose of getting a chemical high—an Australian bird that collects blue artifacts and takes the role of interior designer to attract a female mate.

Cuddling on the couch after a sweaty session of lovemaking. Margot: “I like having sex with you…because I like you so much.”

Analyzing some of my friends with her and talking about the difference between a wanderer, who desires to travel constantly, and a nester, who desires to settle in one location. She veers more towards the nester side and I can’t figure out which one I am. I feel I’m a seasonal wanderer. At this stage in my life, I feel obligated here. One day though my feet will get antsy.

Back at home. Washing all the dishes. I’ve come to realize I am a born dishwasher. And I actually enjoy the process.

Eating a bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Brown Sugar and Bananas.

Editing some video footage.

Sleep around 7 a.m.

Tuesday September 14 2010

DREAM: Back in my old house in Ocean Lakes. In my old room waking up to go to school. My bunk bed is there. Another guy, a friend, is waking up with me off the top bunk. I’m attempting to clean out my suitcase—sorting out my coin change from my clothes. Downstairs I open up the fridge for breakfast. My mom prepared plastic Tupperware bins of strawberries and big slices of pineapple still with outer coating. I pull a tub out and eat it.

Getting up at 3:30 p.m.

Breakfast: Milk Toast with Cinnamon and Brown Sugar.

Work at the ice cream shop.

Business is slow.

Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Oolong Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.

Reading the DOOM novel—getting really enveloped in it.

Here at the shop ants are a big nuisance. Watching one writhing in agony as it’s being pinned down by a spider half it’s size. It’s a strange sight. Even the other passing ants don’t stop to help.

My newly acquainted friend, Teresa, makes a surprise visit at work. She tells me about some of her military classes where they were sprayed with OC Spray and have to learn what it feels like, which is like pepper spray but ten times worse and used in India to discipline elephants.

She sticks around and we chat about things. The customers come in from time to time and we pause. She’s almost nicer to the customers than I am—adding a touch of estrogen and womanly nurture. The parking meter where she parked keeps expiring—a quarter only allows 10 minutes. I wasn’t expecting her to stay until the end of my shift, but she did. Feeling comfortable and thinking this could be a start to a close and beneficial friendship. Both of us were on the verge of telling each other personal back-stories. Not really having enough time—making a rain check for another meeting over coffee.

I meet Margot at her place. The plan was to have fondue together and maybe watch a movie but I forewarned her there might not be much time because of poker and recording tonight. After arriving later than expected and informing her I wanted to be home 30 minutes earlier, leaving us about an hour of visiting time, she switches to self-pity mode. Spending most of the hour bantering back and forth—listening to her say things she doesn’t mean. To recount a long story short, in the end hugs and embraces and kisses make things better. “Twin high maintenance machines,” a lyric to a Mountain Goats always sticks out to me after heated conversations like this, except we’re not twins but individuals with different needs.

Back at home…playing poker with the boys: James, Art, and Roma. I win the first hand and Art wins the second.

Dinner: leftover Shrimp Sinigang.

Art persuades me to go to Kmart with him and buy cookies. So we do. As we exit the store, I point out a girl in grey shorts analyzing some fruit. She seemed pretty from behind. I joke with Art about how sometimes a pretty girl from behind isn’t always a pretty girl in the front. He tells me how most pretty American girls seem to be missing something to him, but he can’t quite figure out what is it—only a rare few seem to be complete.

Eating Chocolate Chip Cookies and Milk—watching funny videos on youtube with Art. He sings to me this Russian song he likes by this band—translating the chorus for me: “In my right hand is Snickers. In my left hand is Mars. And my PR manager is Karl Marx.”

Art goes to bed and in 15 minutes Emily is waking up to go to work at 4 a.m.

At the storage unit practicing.

Sleep around 7:30 a.m.

Monday September 13 2010

DREAM: A story with many characters. A sweet black woman with a beautiful unselfish heart to protect her son. Bombarded with an evil disturbance. Scanning through a book of paintings by an artist I know that resemble Salvador Dalí. One stands out to me. Analyzing the painting. It takes up two pages: A panoramic view of a cave-like room—brown and red dirt. To the left are two men’s naked torsos built into the wall of an opening causing water to flow across the cavern. Just next to the center are more torsos of humans or some strange warped version of them. To the right, two women built into the wall of an opening where the water escapes. One is lying down and the other is standing over her. All of it has that abstract dream-like Dalí tone. I’m really fascinated by this picture and it’s meaning to me. I continue looking at it for a long time.

3 p.m. I wake up.

Breakfast: Toasted English Muffin with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Black Tea with Honey. Grapes.

Jamil, Roma, and Anna have off from work today.

Doing head stands with Anna in the living room.

Eating Grilled Cheese Sandwiches with Jamil and Anna—dancing on www.chatroulette.com. Recording a silly music video—purple hair wig, yellow construction hat, and water jug.

Performing a solo show at the house with Paleo, Seamonster, Benji/Ashley, and Lo.La.

More faces than expected, some new, maybe 50 people. Great music and drinking.

Eating leftover DiGiorno Pizza. Sharing a slice with Todd.

An attack between two mother birds almost arises.

Lo.La begins the royal rumpus—lush and noisy—taking a small amount of us into another dimension.

Anna and Vova leave for New York.

Margot is upset that one of her best friends will not talk to her. I comfort her the best I can but the mother bird attack just made it worse. Hostility has never seemed to work in anyone’s favor. Communication. Communication. Communication. Seeing a friendship in shambles is a shame, especially when it’s caused from a lack of communication skills. Be strong, friends. Be strong. Please love each other. Because I love you.

Proverbs 16:23 “A wise person's heart controls his speech, and what he says helps others learn.”

She’d sent me a nice text yesterday and I was reminded of it…

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so good to me. Thanks for listening to my rants and calming me down <3”

Everyone’s finally left. It’s not too late.

Art asks me to make him a grilled cheese. Eating a bowl of Crisp Rice Cereal with Brown Sugar and talking with him. He tells me about how he used to spend his summers in a village where everyone would eat off the land, fresh eggs, fresh milk—picking mushrooms in the forest.

Talking with David of Paleo a little bit about his recent record deal with Partisan Records before he asks for earplugs and heads off to sleep.

Posting the photos from the show.

Shooting some hoops on the courts.

Eating a toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich and a hard-boiled Egg.

Reading the DOOM novel.

Sleep around 7 a.m.

Sunday September 12 2010

Dreaming…

Suddenly I wake up at 5 p.m. on the dot. Realizing I have to be at work at 5, I snap out of it forgetting about my dream entirely. I jump out of bed, and grab an English Muffin and some Blueberry Tea.

Work at China Wok.

It’s a slow night.

Trying to figure out how I slept so long. I crashed around 7:30 a.m. last night making it about 9 hours of sleep. Maybe it was the combination of reading the DOOM novel and the beer I had with it. Alcohol tends to make your sleep heavy.

Having to deliver an order over near Harpers Road, so I make a quick stop at the house for a hard-boiled Egg, Salt N Vinegar Chips, and some Honey Green Tea.

Number of Non-Tippers: 0

My boss sends me home an hour early.

Shower.

Stretching and exercising while listening to the Surfer Blood album.

Learning Russian on Rosetta Stone.

In the kitchen. Anna is asking me about honey and what it means when it’s unfiltered.

Jamil hasn’t seen Apocalypto, so I put it on.

Eating leftover Shrimp Sinigang.

James and Rocky are commenting back and forth on facebook. I invite them over for Chocolate Chip Cookies.

I add a little extra flour to the mix, which makes them extra plump.

Rocky joins vkontakte.ru.

Anna puts on these new pink and white toe socks she got from T.J.Maxx made from this incredibly soft material. James gets inspired and wants a photo of it on his phone.

Dumpster Dive at Trader Joe’s (see above photo): Apples, Oranges, Green Peppers. Squash, Grapes, Plums, Apple Grape Juice, Hummus, Pesto, Spanish Cheese, Eggs, Soymilk, Raw Sugar, Chicken Breasts, Mahi Mahi, and Shrimp with Jasmine Rice.

James wants to watch Total Recall, so he puts it on.

He tells me about some dreams he’s had recently: waking up and somebody shaved his entire beard off, insects taking over the world, crying about a cat that’s about to be put to sleep.

Washing all the finds. Talking with Art in the kitchen. He tells me about a factory he used to work for in Belarus that put out palettes of yogurt treats that were only about to expire in a month. The employees were allowed to take them home.

Sipping on Coffee and reading until Dave (Paleo) shows up He’s driving from Wilmington, NC and needs to crash on the couch tonight. He tells me he’s on a 9-month tour after which I noticed he seems rather road worn.

Recording at the unit.

Eating 1 and ½ Toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich and a Plum.

Reading.

Sleep 7:30 a.m.