DREAM: I wake up from sleep (still in dream). I hear something that sounds like a clack at the window. I look over and Anthony’s sitting in my computer chair. “What was that?” I ask. Someone threw something at my window. The glass is broke in the bottom right corner. Carefully I slide up the frame to look outside. Instead of the woods and trees there’s a vast field in our backyard with giant plastic 2 liter Pepsi bottles the size of buses spread out strategically. Each one has been cut in a different way to appear as broken glass. It’s understood this is the doing of someone’s art installation. Then I see a guy, understood to be our neighborhood. He’s wearing a pink, green, and blue jogging suit from the 80’s and smoking a cigarette. And he’s just standing there staring at our back porch as if he’s waiting for someone to come out and pick a fight with him. I start to yell but back off to avoid confrontation. It’s obvious he was responsible for my broken window. But why doesn’t he look up here? I make a comment to Anthony, “This guy’s a snozbag!”
Snozbag? Who ever heard of a snozbag?
Waking in and out of sleep…actually getting up at 2 p.m.
White Nectarine and a Plum.
Rearranging and cleaning the dining room—the maintenance guy says he’ll be back to cut a whole in the ceiling to take a look at that leak—Simon & Garfunkel on the record player…
Lunch: Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Grocery shopping at Trader Joe’s.
Trekking to 21st street on my bike for the house show at Rusty’s place (Haircut 5000)…Once there, Paige and I walk to Atlantic Avenue to visit Anthony doing his Beach Street USA thing—he gets so embarrassed of his friends seeing him do covers of Oasis on guitar. Grabbing a slice of pizza around the corner…Paige informs me of up and coming technology, like a printer that prints in 3D…
Back at Haircut 9000…lots of friends here…a band called Hooking Up from Harrisonburg performs a set inside the cramped punk space—crunchy pop guitars and screaming anthems—it’s hot in here. Climbers, from Richmond, is impressive with his electronic experimental pop goodness. Daniel shows up just in time from Trader Joe’s for him and Rusty’s Little Foot set…
Smoking a Djarum Mild out back with Leisa and Sky…chit chatting with people.
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Back home, a sort of after-show gathering…
Sitting down at the card table eating Baked Cod Fillets with Broccoli and a Williamsburg White Ale. Leisa and Kelly Suddeth battle it out in foosball—my dinner entertainment—Frank Sinatra on the record player—just watching the way they interact, the girls, the fair and beautiful—there’s something hypnotic about movement, a female’s movement. Lionel Hampton on the record player now. They begin to dance—I’m lured into the circle of three—a drama—interpretive imrpov dance…
Anthony: “I’ve gained like 10 pounds since I moved in with you!”
It’s after 2 a.m. A couch surfer arrives on motorcycle—from Canada—he’s on a road trip across the states documenting and taking photos…he’s a perfect match to the mix of people here…
A bunch of unfamiliar kids prance into the house—friends of friends—extremely friendly…one of them goes by the name of Squid…another by the name of Blondie…Carmen tells me we should get nicknames…
Margot calls me about retrieving her cake pan she left here on my birthday—she closed at her job so she’s coming straight from there. She shows up, bad expressions painted all over her face. Upstairs, in my room, she gathers her toiletries that she usually leaves here for when she spends the night like her contact solution, contacts case, and make-up pads. I hold the cake pan hostage even though she insists on taking it now so she can leave. Harsh and soft words are exchanged—but there’s only a desire to understand why…why…why is this happening. She claims she’s not capable of loving anyone else and crouches down on the floor in the corner next to the door…I crawl and lay down beside her while she cries…after a while it cools down…she tells of a nightmare she had last night—she got upset in the dream because we were broken up and there was some other “bitch” with me—she attempted to punch both the girl and me but couldn’t hit hard enough—then she leaves on a big bug and mermaids appear………
Eventually, it seems the only way for the night to end is for her to stay the night—she would feel horrible if she left and I would feel the same. So here we are…invigorating, intimate, sex…again…afterwards…
Her: “How could you give up something this good?”
There’s a seductive sound in her voice.
Me: “You got a point there.”
I’m so tired. It’s too late for my taste…the sun is coming up. I join her in bed…
Sleep 6 a.m.
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