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DREAM: ☼ Cookie Death ☼ Walking down the street of Dunbarton Drive in Emerald Point Apartments (I used to live here with my mom). There’s a little boy with me. We pass a familiar dumpster that growing up always had a lot of cool stuff. The boy wants a toy to play with. Just outside the perimeter of the dumpster I see various toys in good condition. Around the corner I meet up with his father. “Where is he?” he asks. “Oh he’s just looking for some toys over there,” I reply. I see the boy peek out from the wood fence surrounding the dumpster. The father opens up the door to his apartment (which happens to be the same apartment my mom and I lived in so long ago). But the layout is much different. The father saunters off into his bedroom. The boy has morphed into a dirty white terrier dog. I’m petting and rubbing him all over. He goes to eat out of his tiny food and water bowl. He lifts his left leg up and hops in a funny way. There’s water spilt on the floor so maybe he’s trying to avoid it. I’m in a stranger’s home but I try to make myself feel comfortable. I’m very thirsty. Searching in the kitchen for a cup of water. There are chocolate chip cookies in the oven but they seem to be not ready just yet so I turn the oven on. The mother and the father are lounging in the living room. The mother mentions how confused she is as to why someone turned on the oven but then quickly recognizes the cookies turned out perfect. “That could’ve been the worst,” she says. I give my two cents, “No, what would’ve been the worst is if one of you two died.”
4:45 p.m. I wake up.
Breakfast: Oatmeal Breakfast Bar. Orange Juice.
Work at China Wok.
On the go Lunch: Egg Salad Sandwich. Salt N Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Rushing over to the guy Larry’s house to buy the speakers that go with the PA I bought from him yesterday.
MUSICPLAYER show at Winston’s Café along with Digging Up Virgins, The Vermilions, and Dylan Gilbert.
Doug has a shot of whiskey sitting in front of him that he wants to give away. I chug it on a whim.
Playing a pretty decent set. All acts performed a powerhouse set in my opinion.
I order a Tuna Steak for dinner—delicious. Yolinda gives me a Clementine to go with it.
Dylan and his drummer, John, are spending the night at the house. Dylan tells me about his guitar getting stolen from their show last night in Hickory, NC—terribly unfortunate. I share my own experiences with music gear thievery.
Eating a bowl of Cherrios with Brown Sugar.
Unloading equipment at the storage unit. Arranging.
Eating a Toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich.
Watching Cube [1997].
Sleep 8:15 a.m.
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