Waking up at 12:35 p.m.
Breakfast: Organic Strawberry Pop Tarts. Orange Juice.
Having a pre-screening/meeting at Felix’s brand new house for the Tokyo DVD.
Impressed with the size and décor of the house—he made a good choice. The only things left that he needs is a dog and a baby.
It’s good to be together hanging out with Aaron, Felix, and Josiah again—like old times at The Thunderdome and playing music as a band. It’s a nostalgic feeling to watch all this old footage.
Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. Blueberry Yogurt.
Back home compiling documents from Kevin, Dustin, and Anthony to apply for the townhome in Chanticleer. I made a decision earlier while I was driving to just go ahead with this rather than wait on the new house. I can always still move forward with buying the Southern Boulevard house in the near future. It’s been a hectic situation trying to figure all this out. I hate moving.
Anthony: “Earlier when you came into my thrift store I’ve never seen you so determined before, in the time that I’ve known you.”
Laying down scratch tracks for bass at the storage unit with Kal. He’s leaving Musicplayer to join the coast guard, and get married. Big steps. Big change. I hope the best for him.
Dinner: Spaghetti with Tomato & Basil Sauce and Onions. Fresh Garlic Bread. Carrot.
Taking care of business with Anthony. We ride to CVS to get money orders for the Chanticleer deposit. Trying to pay with some cash and some on the card. They can’t do that because they only accept cash for a money order. We have to dart over to the ATM to get the rest then head back to CVS. Anthony buys me the 99-cent gummy bears.
In the car, he explains the reason why he thinks he’s gotten so close to me so fast. The log line, which he says is what production companies use to briefly describe TV shows in a few sentences…He uses an analogy dealing with pegs on a board to describe the log line of our friendship. We’re not the same. But fill in where the other isn’t. Sal and Dean.
Skippy’s over here working hard repairing the hole in the wall.
I’m in my room, burnt out, tired, nervous because I didn’t have enough time to go see the queen and I know she’s going to be upset. I give her a call. I try to describe the hectic day I’ve had. Of course, she’s disappointed and annoyed. I’m ranting because she’s responding selfishly.
“I just want you to understand me. Just be more understanding!”
At first I feel angry and tense and frustrated. I don’t know how to explain myself. It seems silly that I’m wasting this past hour talking to her over the phone when I could just be over there right now, but then that wouldn’t be enough time to constitute quality time for her, and it wouldn’t, so it’s best that I’m not. I know how she feels and I don’t want the same recurring issues we had before where I was always busy and not making enough time for her. I love her so much. I really do. Darling, be patient with me. I’m a man on a mission.
It’s been such a complicated day.
“I hate being an adult.”
Newspaper route.
Blueberry Donut from 7-11 and Hot Coffee.
No Coast to Coast AM tonight.
Feeling a surge of angst slowly resonate inside me. I’m angry and I need to let it out. This day has been non-stop in so many ways—nothing necessarily negative, if anything it was productive. Sarah McLachlan soothes me for a bit, some Slowdive, Snowden, The Smiths, and even Sufjan Stevens tries his turn at calming the nerves. But once I hear the distorted swell of Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify”, BAM! I’m all over the place. Impatient. I want to get home now! Cursing other late night drivers who tread on my road.
It’s just after 5 a.m. I pull up to my last stop, Rick’s Café, and find Anthony crouched on the curb holding an empty mason jar, which was probably filled with tap water earlier. He knew I would be pulling up soon. It reminds me of my old cat who would always be waiting by the door knowing I would be coming home soon.
I park out front of the house and express to him the attitude I’ve been feeling all night.
“I need to break something….now.”
He gets it. And encourages what’s to come. Slamming a heavy cement rock over that old wooden coffee table that’s been on the porch for almost two years. I grab the little red hammer I use to open the USA boxes and we take a walk through the hurricane force winds—hitting random discarded items and signs and walls and trees—such a release.
Back inside.
Eating a Lime Popsicle that Anthony said was free game even though the box has written on it a bunch of NO! statements.
Me: “You know, Anthony, you’ve got good listener qualities in you. I think you’ve learned the teachings of Jesus well.”
Kenneth walks in with his headlamp, “Hey. What are you guys up to tonight?”
Me: “I’m hitting the sack. I’m gonna masturbate, think about God, and go to sleep.”
Sleep 7:20 a.m.
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