Friday June 17 2011

Waking up at 11:05 a.m.

She’s making those cute bed noises in reaction to my leaving for work, “Mmm…no leaving.”

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice. Zinc.

Full day shift at China Wok.

It’s dreadfully slow.

Reading the new Adbuster’s issue—putting the paper bags in the plastic Have a Nice Day bags.

Delivering an order to Rockport in Latitudes next to Target. It’s Rachel and Kanzas and Kelley and Vincent and of course Kino!

Lunch: Hard Boiled Egg. Cape Cod Kettle Cooked Potato Chips with Avocado. Peach White Tea.

Quick stop at Trader Joe’s—picking up yogurts and a watermelon.

I pull up to the restaurant to find Emily spread out across the two front seats of her car, napping with the engine and A/C running to keep cool. I tap the window and impersonate a voice, “Mam! You can’t be parked here!”

Giving her the rest of Ambrotious’s stuff left at my house. Standing there shooting the shit about our lives and ideas. All problems and relationships exist only in your mind. They’re not tangible. You cannot touch them. YOU create them. Once you understand this concept, everybody’s behavior will make perfect sense. Conflict arises when your expectations of that person differ from reality. You expect that person to know your expectations and be the person you created them to be in your head. Watch out for this. Communication is the only solution.

Discovering the watermelon I bought is sour. Bummer. I thought I had the Picking the Best Watermelon Tactics down. I return it for another one only to discover another sour baddie. WTF. It’s slow right now anyway so I assure myself Kroger may have a better alternative. A dollar extra but bigger. Again. Sour. I give up. Ling smiles after seeing me slice it open in the kitchen. He offers me some of his. “This ones sweet and cold.”

Swiss Milk Chocolate with Hazelnuts.

4 non-tippers all day. Getting frustrated—yelling, “Bring on the SHIT TIPS! Stack’em to the heavens!”

The congestion on the road and the endless number of traffic obstacles is really getting to me. I have no patience for overly cautious idiotic driving. “You’re slowing me down! Get the fuck out of my way!” I can’t help feeling like this. I’ve become a bitter driver. Road Rage. I have an overwhelming compulsion to cut off one of these heartless egotistical drivers in their slick Dodge Chargers and shout, “I WILL FUCK YOU UP!” There’s an ironic aesthetic at play as I blare Rubenstein piano sonatas on the stereo. I was hoping the dramatic classical melodies would calm me down and remind me how much better I am than this nonsense on the streets of VB.

The dinner rush has begun. China Wok sent out a bunch of menus in the mail so we’re getting hit with a lot more orders than usual for dinnertime. It’s just Cessily and me. Time to kick it up a notch. Quickness. Every second counts. Run. Don’t walk to the door. I’m a one man delivering wrecking crew. “I’m on fire!” Hearing in my head the narrator from the NBA Jam Sega game announce, HE’S ON FIRE!

It barely rained for a few minutes. Despite, I notice a rainbow painted in the sky.

Delivering an order on Old Virginia Beach Road. After I make the transaction a dude asks, “Hey you wanna shot man?

Me: “I wish I could.”

Last order for the night in Thousand Oaks. The door next to me says, “999”. An inversion of “666”. Symbolizing justice and truth.

Anthony calls me while I’m on the way home…

Me: “I want to destroy…and create at the same time.”

Anthony: “Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

Enjoying a nice cold Summer Brew from Trader Joe’s.

Darren just moved into Anthony’s room. He’s showing me his computer set up to which he uses a big screen TV as a monitor.

Eating a Carrot with Ranch.

Darren and Anthony hop in my car and we grab a free pizza using one of the Papa John’s pizza cards Kevin gave us. Chicago Style. Having 3 or 4 slices. Jamming at the storage unit—I take the drums, Anthony on guitar, Darren on bass. Nothing really cohesive. The purpose is to release aggression through sound.

Back at the house. Darren and Kevin take it upon themselves to become the interior wall decorators of the house, hanging up signs and pictures. I lost my desire to corrupt the walls after the move.

Smoking a clove on the back porch with the guys—fascinated with the array of bugs surrounding our bug zapper. One in particular gets caught in a perpetual electrocution state.

Slurping down glasses of Milk with Mango.

Sleep 3:30 a.m.