Monday July 18 2011

11:11 a.m. It finally crosses my mind that I should probably get out of bed now.

Breakfast: Two White Saturn Peaches.

All day shift at China Wok.

A text: “rejection sucks even from people that don’t matter.”

Strawberry Pomegranate Granola Bar.

Raven hooks a brotha up at Starbucks with some Iced Coffee mixed to a perfect consistency. 20 minutes later I’m shaky and jittery, a surge in my bloodstream. It’s been a while since I’ve had this much caffeine in my system. I mean, I think it was the venti size too. This feeling…I hate it and love it simultaneously.

Eating Salt n Vinegar Chips and whatever else is in my plastic bag of snacks.

There’s a mangled discarded mattress on the side of the road just off Laskin road in front of Linkhorn Bay Condos. It’s been there for at least a week now. I don’t think anyone will ever go out of their way to pick it up. How did it get there? Who decided this would be a good place to put a holey unwanted mattress? There’s something beautiful about it being there though—it’s lone persistence—waiting for someone to plop down and relieve it of its bareness. I want to be her man. But I’m not her man today. [see above photo for full effect]

http://www.streetmattress.com/

Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Honey Oolong Tea.

Delivering an order in Welcome Square. They’re regulars—the two ladies have that typical nonchalant attitude that I expect from them anyway. This time the one lady comments about how cute I look and asks how old I am. Caught off guard a little bit.

Me: “I’m…26.”

Her: “Hmm.”

There’s something special about today. Maybe it was the caffeine boost. Maybe it was the ego boost. Maybe it was Beck on the stereo. But I feel in control. I feel super happy and in love with life. It’s a wonderful state of being really.

Delivering an order on the north end of Atlantic Avenue. His father placed the order online and thought he submitted his credit card information, but we did not receive it. So I assumed it was a cash order. Talking with the father over the phone—he’s senile and has no tolerance for mistakes, and doesn’t understand that the computer made an error. I’m ready to jot down his card number and solve this issue right now but he wants to analyze why this and why that in a long-winded rant. All the while I’m standing there in the doorway with the son, who is in his 40 ‘s, and knows his father well and half expected this. It’s been 20 minutes and we’re just now getting to the transaction. Phew. All the while my other order is late now. Thanks dad.

Business dies down around 8. Enjoying Crab Rangoon.

Margot makes a surprise visit—she just came from Borders and she’s really excited about the True Blood novel she just bought. She encourages me to get a tattoo on my forehead that says, MARGOT’S.

“I wonder what the world would be like if you had everything your way…Margot’s world…”

Finally off work after 11 and a half hours.

Helping Art transport a really nice burgundy couch he found off Oceana Blvd to his new apartment. Once we get it inside we lounge on the new find and shoot the shit about our China Wok work troubles—our boss’s temperament—the customer’s ignorance. He offers me a beer and few bucks for gas.

Back home.

Dinner: Cod Fish Filets with Tartar Sauce and Malt Vinegar. Asparagus. Milk.

Organizing—cleaning out the car—wonderful hot shower.

Sleep 4 a.m.