DREAM: I’ve just climbed over a fence that borders a muddy brook flowing just below me. It’s barbed wire so I had to be careful. About to dart down a trail between the trees when I discover a lioness blocking the way. She roars. But she’s tied down with a leash. A pack of lions suddenly appear in a field nearby. Maybe she called on them. Another person was with me earlier and I think they ran off. The pack of lions approaches me with nothing but intentions of attacking. I decide to shout out the biggest and realistic lion roar I can make. The lions back down and take it as a sign to go after the other guy. I turn around and crawl back through the barbed wire fence. It’s very difficult because of the tight space between the wooded gate and the ground, which is wet and dirty.
Waking up at 5:50 p.m.
Margot takes me to the auto shop to pick up my car. Rick, the mechanic there at BP Automotive, comforts me in the fact that I made a good choice on buying the Toyota Camry. “Everything looks good, Robert.” The only thing needed was a $100 repair on a gasket.
Breakfast: Scrambled Eggs. Cinnamon Raisin Toast with Butter. Immune Defense.
Musicplayer practice at the storage unit—structuring new material. Getting excited about the songs and how they’re coming along.
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Chris and Kal stop by after to watch footage from the Williamsburg show.
James is baking a pizza he bought from 7-11. Sitting at the table with him and Wesley waiting for Dustin to arrive. Sharing entertaining tidbits from the internet—Jenkem, a hallucinogenic drug made from fermented sewage, causes loads of laughter and disgust for a while.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UsNbsjpuLc
Kenneth is a man on a mission, walking back and forth from outside, moving this and that to here and there, talking and talking. He frightens Wesley as he fills shotgun shells with peppercorn for his shotgun as a precaution. He’s a protector.
Throughout the night, Wesley asks, “Where’d you get that?” referring to a particular item in the house, and more often than not the answer is, Oh, Kenneth found that. At this point, I’ve become immune to his quirkiness and his ways. He’s a favor-man, meaning he feels inclined to do favors for you as you do the same for him, always hookin’ a brother up, and filling the house with gifts for the 1623 community.
Finally, Dustin is here and we do our poker thing. James wins in the end.
Probably the best ad ever on Craigslist:
http://atlanta.craigslist.org/atl/crs/2202170274.html
Dinner: Udon Noodle Soup with Mixed Vegetables.
Unthinkable [2010].
Newspaper route.
As I’m compiling the papers at the docks, Margot calls me. Her voice sounds kind of secretive. “Hey Margot, let me call you right back.” “Just talk to me for a minute.” All of sudden I hear noises through the phone and she’s yelling at someone, “Hey! Give me—my stuff—you bastard!” “Margot, what’s going on?” It doesn’t sound good. “I just got mugged!” “Mugged?” “…calling the cops.” And then the phone disconnects. I try calling back. Later on, I get through. Come to find out she was walking back from that dude Les’s apartment on her way to Harpoon Larry’s where her car is. And a black guy wearing all black runs up and steals her purse on 23rd ½ street. I can’t believe this. I can’t understand why she was walking by herself in the middle of the night like that. As uncomfortable as I am with this guy Les being around her, he should’ve walked her back. Especially at that time of night and in one of the highest crime areas in Virginia Beach. I feel her pain though. I’ve had my share of thievery when my book bag was stolen in Philly and music gear stolen in, well, Philly. I sympathize. I empathize. I lecture. It seems like a bad sign or omen to me, for her to even be involved in any way with Les. But it’s nobody’s fault. Of course it could’ve been prevented, but no one is ever prepared for stuff like this. She noticed the robber following her to begin with and that’s why she called me. Unfortunately, being on the phone creates a distraction giving the robber a perfect opportunity to make his move. If I had only been there, I would’ve chased down this guy and knocked him out.
I continue my deliveries. Coast to Coast radio is on and they’re discussing Satanism and the inherit evil nature in humans. Sort of relevant.
Eating a Blueberry Donut and Coffee from 7-11.
It’s about 7:30 a.m. and I’m searching for her purse around the oceanfront in case the robber tossed it after taking the money—maybe in a dumpster or trash can. It’s bitter cold outside. I only allow myself 30 minutes of goose hunting.
Dropping off my car at the shop and riding my bike back home. The gloves I have on only do the trick for so long. I switch my hands back and forth in my pocket to keep them warm. The air burns my lungs.
Back home, doing the dishes. Drinking Red Zinger Tea and eating Goldfish.
She texts me: “I wish you were here right now. I don’t feel good.” I invite her over.
She’s here—trying to console.
Lying down to sleep next to each other. 10 a.m.
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