DREAM: I’ve been given the opportunity to hang out with John Lennon somehow. Star struck—it’s kind of unbelievable because I thought he was dead. He’s very approachable and sociable—speaking in a thick British accent. Feeling the need to give him a jacket of mine—rummaging through my closet. “I’ve got this jacket I think you’ll like. Don’t worry it’s British.” It’s difficult to find. Then, I realize I’m already wearing it. “There it is! It’s thin and it’s Adidas. See it’s got three stripes.” ☼☼☼ An auditorium—huge hall—rows and rows of seats. Sitting next to Carmen. Earlier we started this trend that is well known to everybody in the room. It’s kind of like freedom of speech except it’s more specific: after hearing somebody speak at the podium you raise a question out loud that’s on your mind with no regard to political correctness. I look around and see everybody wearing these small beanie caps. If you agree with the trend you tilt your hat to the left, which means you “like” it and to the right means you don’t want any part of it. The people in the front row have their hats tilted to the right except for Anthony. Even my cap is to the left. The scene switches to a TV show—I think its Oprah. All the same people—huge crowded room. I’m off to the left of the stage with Carmen and my crew. Danny Rogers is sitting at a desk on stage giving some kind of speech or monologue. When he’s done we all wait. And then it happens. Someone in the audience shouts out loud whatever question is on their mind. At the end, people are leaving but they have to approach my crew’s corner first and shake hands, or thank me, or receive a book as a gift. Louis shakes my hand with a bunch of coin change. I notice one of the quarters is a discolored grey meaning it could be an old quarter made with real silver. I check the date, “Dude, this is from 1776! Let me trade it in and make us some money.” He seems reluctant and claims it’s worth $95. “I know,” I say.
Just after 1 p.m. waking up.
Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. Zinc.
Researching how to file taxes for an independent contractor.
Reconstructing the spreadsheet to keep track of my income. It’s complete. I feel accomplished.
Lunch: Two Hard Boiled Eggs. Salt n Vinegar Chips with Avocado. Honey Green Tea.
Watching Takers [2010].
Grocery shopping.
Margot’s over here. She’s wearing a new summer dress emphasizing her sexy enamor—such a pretty girl—the prettiest.
Sexy time.
I bought a jar of Biscoff spread from Kroger. Trying some out on a Waffle.
“Look it matches your skin color! It’s the same creamy brown. I’m calling this Margot Spread from now on.”
Taking a trip to Target—she wants to get some food to make dinner: a salad with spinach & artichoke dip on a baguette.
Back home. She’s eating her food while I just watch.
Me: “You think I’m weird.”
Her: “Yeah, sometimes. But a good weird.”
Massaging her naked back. Taking in the beautiful geography of her body. Sometimes, well actually all the time, I become so fascinated with its shape and structure.
Cuddling…
Her: “Woo we—” She stumbles on her words.
Me: “[heh] What did you say?”
I make fun of her attempting to finish her whirly statement, “WOO WE WATCH-A-WOOVIE??”
Strumming the guitar—pulling some new melodies out of my sleeve.
Crunching numbers on IRS forms.
Dinner: Black Bean and Mixed Vegetable Salad. Challah Bread.
Margot just got back from Harpoon’s and she’s glowing with general excitement—a big smile on her face.
Me: “I can see the drink meter above your head. You’ve had about 4.”
An hour or two has passed and she’s settled into bed. Earlier I was playing guitar and singing softly feeling a need to respect the quietness of the house. I was also listening to some of the Musicplayer recordings I started almost a year ago.
Me: “I’m frustrated.”
Her: “Baby, why?”
Me: “Time moves too slow.”
Her: “What do you mean?”
Me: “It moves too slow and fast at the same time.”
I go for a night walk soaking in the thick humid air—cutting through the Lutheran church and into Friend’s School territory. There’s something powerful about being alone.
Eating a small bowl of Frosted Shredded Wheat Cereal.
Sleep 5:30 a.m.
2 comments:
i understand when you say being alone is powerful. i think that being alone in an open space, preferably quiet, is pretty nice. really nice actually. being alone in a small space doesnt really give me the same feeling and sometimes feels confining.
yes you are totally correct. there's something about that big open space that speaks to you and allows you freedom.
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