DREAM: I am Jean Claude Van Damme, the Belgian martial artist and actor. I’ve got a girl with me and we’re running from the authorities. At the bottom floor of a building that’s at least 100 stories high. I see the bad guy coming after us. I grab her and head for the elevator. We jump inside and as the doors are shutting I can see the angry faces of our chasers. She hits a button that takes the elevator so far down it starts to dig through the earth—hearing the electronic sounds signifying errors in the elevator’s mechanical system. In her mind this is suicidal yet the most efficient way to escape. But it was all just psychological because I open the door to find we’re only at the basement level. We run around the corner and take the stairs up because they’re probably coming down to look for us. It’s not a simple stair plan—very intricate and mazy layout. At one point the width of the stairs is so tiny we can only fit one foot on it. The stairs are blue. A lot of the doors are locked and we can’t get through them. Eventually we find a double door that seems doable. To the right is a woman manning a desk. To the left is an orange lynx creeping on another staircase to which I didn’t feel much danger. I put my finger through a hole pressing on a white powdery gunk that vibrates every time I push it. I express to the woman, “This is an emergency!” She lets us through. We take a right into a department store similar to a JC Penny in a mall. I see racks of clothes everywhere and employees. We turn around and go to the other end of the building. At some point we part ways to trick our captors. I break into an office room. There’s an old man standing by a table with headphones on. The door to the outside has a long protruding handle that I pull with extra strength. I make it through and start climbing down the stairs. To the right I can see the sky and the rest of the foggy city far below. There he is, my nemesis. He eyeballs me from a thick glass window, points a gun, and pulls the trigger. But the bullets barely make a scratch in the window. He continues to shoot as I make my way down the curved staircase acrobatically. I notice a pole in the center of the building is big and wide. I grab onto it and slide down with ease as if it was a fireman’s pole—all the way down at least a hundred flights. I try to slow myself down a little because I keep gaining speed. I can hear radio alerts being sent out to the SWAT team to perimeter the building. I finally make it to the bottom kind of slamming my butt on the ground but I’m okay. I run away through a field—aware now that my shirt is off and I have nice six-pack abs. The SWAT team is spread out making their way to the building. They don’t really notice me as I hop up and down and climb over a wall covered in ivy.
Just after 4:30 p.m. I wake up.
Breakfast: Toasted Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc, Alfalfa Grain.
Quick stop at Alpha to buy a Postal Monkey guitar case.
Work at China Wok.
Meeting Margot at Bankok Garden.
Ordering Chicken Pad Thai with a tall glass of Thai Tea.
She wants me to join her at Harpoon Larry’s afterwards to hang out with her friends. I decline respectfully because I don’t really feel like going out and drinking. Her mood switches to pouty and upset mode. This sparks arguments that I can’t win. The plate of hot Pad Thai just sitting there steaming under our noses as the stubbornness from both of us unveils. I don’t know how but times like these always find a way to lighten up after a while. Finally eating our meal—more like I’m eating the meal as she nibbles on small bites (she lost her appetite).
Back at home.
Margot puts on her Alice costume and hugs Chris leaving glitter all over his clothes and skin. She goes off into oblivion.
JP arrives spontaneously, which I was hoping he would do this weekend.
We watch The Living Wake [2007].
Stretching and doing ab crunches.
We walk to Wawa for milk. Talking about our individual hair loss experiences and our psychological fears associated with it. He’s been taking acupuncture therapy, which has helped.
Chocolate Chip Cookies and Milk.
Sometimes I wish our friendship were closer. I think we could both benefit.
Margot needs me to pick her up from the bar. I tell her I’ll be there at 2 a.m. Despite, she still calls me repetitively.
I got her—she’s in the passenger seat. She keeps yelling, “Let go! Let go!” I think she means Let’s go! Measuring her drunkenness on a scale of 1 to 10, I would rate her an 11. The Backstreet Boys ringtone on her phone goes off. I watch her grab a pack of gum out of her purse and answer it, “Hello?” She’s toppling over as I guide her inside the house and rest her on the couch.
Researching the best shower water filter to get. JP brought up the danger of chlorine when taking a shower, especially a hot shower.
Updating upcoming shows.
It’s around 5 a.m. Emily’s getting ready for work and Margot just woke up from her sleep. Our roommate’s cat is meowing up a storm. Margot calls out my name “Robert! Robert! Robert!” in sync with the cat’s meow.
Eating an Egg Sandwich and Baked Lay’s. Blueberry Yogurt.
It’s about 7 a.m. I’m riding my bike to the beach to drive her car back to the house so she can have it in the morning. I feel grateful to see the sunrise before I sleep.
Margot: “Robur, Robur, Robert…come here…”
The toilet overflowed right before I’m about to get into bed. Roma was the last to use it but I don’t think it was his fault. So in an annoyed fit I clean it up using my handy dandy Shop Vac and some baking soda spray.
Phew. Now I can sleep and join Alice in bed…9 a.m.
