DREAM: Weird sexual tension in China Wok with my boss, Cecily…☼☼☼ A pile of miscellaneous clothing and things from a closet. I’m on a team whose goal is to identify an item that starts with “Z”. Sifting through the stuff. Shirt. Pants. Shoes. Duffle bag. Socks. Hangers. Stuff. Stuff. Stuff. Nothing. This is so difficult. I hear a whistle go off in the other room. We’re out of time. But wait! I found it! I snatch the duffle bag up and run into the other room. It’s labeled “Z-NITE” which is the brand name. I attempt to show the judges. And that’s it.
One p.m. waking up after a much needed slumber…
Orange Juice.
It’s a weird feeling when someone blocks you from Facebook, someone who has always been so incredibly close to you, even if it is within good reason. It makes me sad. It’s all a part of the process of letting go, a part of separation. To be cut off. To be banned from someone’s life, even if it is by choice, is a powerful and unwelcoming feeling. I know you won’t see this or read this. Maybe you are, in secret. And I believe I’ve said plenty to express my affections and thoughts about you…You…You…You…whose been a part of me for a long long long time. Miss…Miss…Miss…I will miss you. In this moment…I miss you. A new age is commencing…and I pray for you…I pray for your health, your happiness, your love. You will grow strong. You will always be who you are, which is a beautiful creature of the earth…and whenever I think of you I will see you as such. I will remember you fondly and not with regret and disdain…I don’t doubt these will not be my last words in regards to you…but that is all for now…
Errands…bank…Kroger…
Lunch: Tuna Salad Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea. White Nectarine.
Inspiration to organize the house—rearranging the dining room and living room—less stuff—less junk equals more space and room for more stuff…
Pomegranate Cherry Ade.
Raven, it’s good to see your face…on the back patio sharing smokes with her, Stef, and Calum.
Chili Beans and sharing Perogies in a Yogurt Dill Dip.
Congregating in the dining room around the card table—and so begins the revival of Poker Night…Myself, Calum, James, Darren, Ben (Skippy’s brother), and Dustin…drinking an okay Passion Fruit Wheat Ale. Anthony walks in with one of his greatest finds ever from the thrift store: a vintage Motorola record player with built-in speakers that swing out. A Motown record on the needle makes a pleasing and jovial atmosphere. I’m out after a straight in Ben’s favor, and on the river. The noise is a little much for me as people are walking in and out…words are tossed everywhere…no opportunity to focus on anything for more than 5 seconds…I retreat to my room to get some space and silent air…reading The Prophet…
Cinnamon Toast Crunch.
We’re not fooling you. But we are. And we like this mystery. I know I do. And you theorize and estimate the outcome like you would when watching a movie, based on context clues and perception. But you don’t know our dialog. You don’t know what really goes on between the paragraphs and the ellipses, and the black and white space. It is something special and important, very important to the story. I’ll give you that. But there are obvious reasons for reservation to not enlighten you on the romantic visions and the tribal fire breathing. It’s too delicate. And by exposing too much too soon it could ruin the beginning………
Sleep sometime after 6 a.m.
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