DREAM: I’m in the sequel to a movie similar to The Cube where you have to climb down these completely narrow and thin tunnels, straight down about 100 feet. When you reach the bottom, you open up a pressurized hatch door into a room. Other people join this sadistic game of exploring the tunnels and rooms, knowing their life is on the line but the goal is to survive. I’m explaining this to somebody, “You open the door and then walk into the room, then you have to make sure the door is shut behind you.” According to the dream, in the previous film there was a character played out by Jean Claude Van Damme—he got stuck in one of the rooms and died. We find out later he became part of the construct down below and his spirit controls the walls of the rooms—he’s seeking revenge on the people that did this to him. I’m standing there in one of the rooms now. The walls are metallic and an onyx black. At first I’m just watching as one of his enemies enters. The walls start to create this glow and sound. His skin vibrates and his whole body becomes attached to the wall—he disappears instantly and only a splatter of blood is left. Soon after, the same thing happens to me. I feel the same vibration on my skin—it feels so real and uncomfortable. I’m gone instantly—a part of the walls, a part of the room, one with The Cube.
Waking up just after 12 p.m.
Breakfast: Toasted Bagel with Peanut Butter. Orange Peach Mango Juice.
Meeting Mom at Jimmy’s workplace, the parts department of a dealership.
Jimmy introduces me to all his co-workers—showing me around.
Mom and I go on an adventure around town.
In a field on the side of the road sits a tall rundown cement brick wall used for a drive-in theater back in the day. Getting photos.
Stopping by a garage thrift store—a big sign on the front door with a cowboy and “WELCOME PARDNER!” painted onto it—bargaining for a power inverter for my car, an amplified bible, and a kid’s book—all for 15 bucks.
One of the market places refuses to sell us a slice of Strawberry Pizza unless we get a whole pie because they wouldn’t be able to sell the rest of it. Mom is disappointed I didn’t get to try one.
Mom and I snacking on Salt n Vinegar Chips with Avocado.
Getting gas at a Circle K—a gang of chickens and a rooster chillin out in the parking lot.
Another market place. Checking out at the register—finding it hard to resist the smell coming from that huge pot of boiling peanuts. An old man with a potbelly and compression socks starts yelling out demands about taking the strawberry baskets out of the boxes and rearranging the oranges. His voice is obnoxious, raspy, and loud—it sounds like there’s a permanent gargle in his throat—the most comical southern slang I’ve ever heard. At first we thought he was just some senile customer but the clerk girl tells us he’s her father-in-law and one of the bosses. I give the best impression I can do. It seems to entertain the other clerk lady and the Mexican employees.
Mom and I chomping down on hot Boiled Peanuts and sharing an Aloe Vera Mango drink—observing the bossy old man commanding others to various things.
Then, the Goodwill.
All of us are at Teresa’s house—planning to see a movie later.
Hanging out with the kids—having a contest on how many push-ups and sit-ups we can do—jumping around and doing various aerobics—Robby and Mariah play-fighting on the porch—filming all the shenanigans—Mariah grabs the video camera and captures me doing an impression of the MTV show Cribs—Priscilla, the dog, is spastic and jostling around the room yapping her schnoz off.
The kids are watching all the YouTube hits on the computer.
I’m lounging on the couch reading Adbusters. Mariah sits down next to me, interested in what I’m looking at. She reads out loud a Thoreau excerpt. It’s a little advanced for her age but she does quite well. Afterwards she says, “I hate reading.” I reply, “You’ll change your mind about that when you get older.” I enjoy this. I’m kind of drawn to her in a big brother-like way. There’s a lot of energy and curiosity inside her—she’s intuitive. It feels good to have people look up to you and know that you have the power to direct their inspirations. And with the knowledge of her family story, it is definitely helpful in her case.
She draws a self-portrait of me.
Seeing the latest Narnia movie at the theater with everyone.
Snacking on Popcorn and Salt n Vinegar Chips.
Back home.
Mom makes the most exceptional Fried Green Tomatoes. Eating some with Ketchup and Lobster Bisque.
Referring to the house, Jimmy declares, “This house is tore out the frame!”
The lunar eclipse gave us a red moon tonight.
I go for a walk down the street to the Circle K. It’s a chilly night. Smoking a Sampoerna clove and feeling the rushing force of the semi trucks whiz by me, just 4 feet away. The lady working the graveyard shift I notice is mildly attractive, but in an older trailer park kind of way. It’s her first time seeing a lunar eclipse. She uses the term “Guaran-damn-tee it” which I’ve always found amusing.
Eating a bowl of Raisin Bran mixed with Cinnamon Bunches.
Reading.
Sleep 5 a.m.
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