DREAM: Many years have passed and I’m revisiting The House of 1623. Walking up on the porch. I look in through the window to find some of the belongings and stuff in the same exact place we left them when we moved out. There are cobwebs and dust and dirt everywhere. The walls of the house have rotted. It’s almost as if nobody ever rented the place out after we left. Talking with some of the people I’m with, baffled with the discovery, “I don’t think anybody lived here after us!” I pick up a toy piano with a colored keyboard and attempt to play it…
Waking up around 11 a.m.
Breakfast: Everything Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.
Full day China Wok shift.
Facing the hot day—a 20-minute rain session is refreshing.
Quick break at the house—slurping up delicious Watermelon.
No orders for a while. Napping.
Lunch: Mixed Nuts. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Vitamin Water.
Reading here and there—Adbusters Magazine—the third DOOM novel.
My shift is coming to a close. A small lightening storm passes over and strangely, sparks a slew of orders to come in for the last hour. The lightening has some weird effect to induce cravings for Chinese food.
Delivering an order to room 529 at The Holiday Inn. Nobody’s in the room. Two girls get off the elevator apologizing for making me wait. They wanted to watch the lightening on the beach. “Totally understandable,” I say. I get a whiff of bud as they brush past.
Later on, I get word they didn’t receive forks to eat with. I promise to bring them some when I finish up.
Delivering an order on Bartow Place near Oceana. The customer’s final words are, “Prish”, which is obviously short for “appreciate it”. Never heard that before.
Heading back to the hotel. I bring the forks and my dinner. Deciding to chill out with the two strangers for a while. Sitting on the balcony—light ocean breeze in the air—eating Vegetable Lo Mein and sipping on a Miller High Life. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever done this. It’s kind of cool to actually hang out with the customers I deliver to.” They’re from Philly on a random vacation for a few days. Striking up a conversation about what I do (my life) and what they do. The younger of the two, wearing a Led Zeppelin T, pulls out a really nice Sony SLR camera—she wants to have her own photography studio one day. We make fun of the kids across the way on the opposite balcony that, according to them, are on some kind of senior trip and are ordered to have lights out after midnight. They see me off and I head home.
About to put a load of clothes in the wash and annoyed to find someone else’s load already in there, “Ugh! This is just like the other house. The wash is constantly going!”
Anthony responds with something comic.
Me: “Anthony, guess how many times I wash clothes?”
Him: “Twice a year.”
Me: “Exactly. And this is the second time.”
Margot shows up. For old times sake I bring up the idea to throw down some sexy time at the storage unit. On the way there there’s some arguing, mostly me going off on a rant reacting to her bad attitude towards something insignificant that happened earlier at the house involving me not letting her use a marker. It’s silly really. But like always there’s a deeper underlying reason this kind of thing happens. So I talk. And want her to talk. I just want to know why.
Me: “We’re two people that love each other. And out of everyone that I know you’re the person who I want to understand me the most. You have the highest priority. It’s the same for you with me….This is what a relationship is about! Communication and understanding.” I’m such a preacher.
Finally, we settle down and have sex. She’s so good and satisfying. And I love her. She’s the best.
Jokingly I retort, “Now I have to write about this. Stop giving me things to write about. I just want to have a bland day for once.”
Eating a bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat.
Finishing Edmond [2005].
Sleep 5:30 a.m.
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