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.
No comments:
Post a Comment