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DREAM: In a postal service vehicle—on duty at China Wok. Two deliveries to make. Darren takes the wheel. I’m in the passenger seat. And Kevin hops in the back. None of this makes any sense because why would three delivery drivers ride together? Inefficient. Attempting to keep the bag of food secure so it doesn’t get smashed or fall over. There’s hot butter wrapped in foil? We take off down Laskin road. I point out to Darren that the destination is near Birdneck road. He misses this information and now we’re at the Oceanfront. He turns right on Pacific.
Me: “Are you serious, Darren? I told you its on Birdneck!”
Looking at the GPS and watching the solid orange line that represents our path move along missing our next turn again.
Me: “Darren! We just did a complete circle around where we’re supposed to be!”
He slams on the brakes, agitated by my agitation.
Me: “Look. Just get out. I’m driving.”
We switch spots but before we do more friends hop on board out of nowhere. Margot sits in the driver’s seat leaving a little room.
Me: “Huh? What are you doing?”
She wants to sit next to me. I feel her hand on my back. I act distant and focused on our job. The back hatch is still open and people are laughing and having a good time. I’m irritated.
“Let’s go!”
I start reversing slowly but I hear Anthony yell to stop. Ashley Vigneault is still hanging out the back and I sense she got hurt. We finally get going. I turn into the neighborhood to which all the signs showing the different sects are Disney theme font—looking for Doors Lane. I’ve been here before but the layout is always confusing.
I comment, “This is like some kind of wonderland…a maze!”
I pull us into what I think is the right place and head inside a department store, which there seems to be no one around.
I warn everyone, “Okay. Four minutes! And we’re leaving. Four minutes.”
Talking to a security guy. He says Doors Lanes is just on the other side of this building. He’s smiling and starts playing a song over the PA system, a cheesy pop song that’s been playing on the radio recently. I guess he’s trying to plug it or advertise it. It’s understood that he’s in this band. His face shows that he’s proud…
☼☼☼☼☼☼
On an abandoned beach with Kelly Suddeth. Parts of it are layered with hay straw rather than sand. Shells embedded in the ground. I notice a few that have sharp edges.
Me: “Be careful. These shells are sharp.”
Helping her collect various shells. Analyzing the details of each one I find. I discover, after removing some hay straw from the edge of the water, a sinkhole. The ground drops about 4 feet—almost right where Kelly is sitting. I look down into the hole. There’s water and pipes that have been stagnate for a long time. I wouldn’t dare dip my feet in that. Later on I climb in through a broken window of an abandoned rec center. Kelly follows and Anthony shows up too. It’s a gym. We’re not supposed to be here. But we’ve done this before. Searching for the light box. The basketballs seem too big to handle at first but after shooting them around a bit they’re perfect….
☼☼☼
Waking up at 11:06 a.m.
This is supposed to be my day off but one of the chefs is in New York meaning Cecily cannot help deliver so they asked me to work. And here I am serving extra time in China Wok prison…
Grapes. Orange Juice. Zinc.
Slow afternoon…reading…writing…thinking.
There’s something powerful and unsettling about distance. It resides in an ominous physical geography inducing a stark disconnect in your mental space. It’s disturbingly patient as you slowly become acclimated to a forced state of acceptance.
Lunch: Spicy Chicken Sandwich with Waffle Fries and a Sweet Tea from Chic-fil-A.
Delivering an order on Hunter lane off Birdneck. During the transaction the customer’s little daughter spouts out, “I like Chinese!”
Me: “Me too.”
Girl: “You work at Chinese. You lucky!”
Air show in the sky today. Jet noise cranked to eleven.
Darren works the dinner rush with me…
Darren: “I think I’m gonna make a video game app called China Wok Pro…and you drive around and have to collect coins in the road so you don’t get stiffed.”
Me: “[haha]”
This cool night air is perfect for the last hour of my shift…
Dinner: Tofu with Mixed Vegetables in Garlic Sauce.
Me: “Hey Anthony! Ask me how many cute girls I delivered to today?”
Anthony: “How many?”
Me: “Three.”
Poker with “the men” not the boys (Kevin, Darren, James)—the shortest poker game I’ve ever played. Kevin wins fair in square…
Oreos from Lauren.
We all hop in Darren’s Audi and congregate at Baja’s for $2 margaritas—playing Kings—feeling loose—sharing laughs…
Back home we transform into a bunch of rowdy kids without chaperones—Kevin and Lauren dress up in aprons and nothing but—I’ve got some flowery skirt on—running around—picking on Kevin—rambunctious—free—flow—jovial.
All of us lying comfortably in my bed, heads on each other’s stomachs, while Anthony reads to us erotic bedtime stories from an Anais Nin novel…We’re one big happy 1435 family…American Hipster Mutts with no cause at the moment except the surrender to liveness.
OOoooI’m so tired…
In the meantime one of the most important protests is going on right now: Occupy Wall Street. The news is barely covering it. But it’s all over the place and it’s a big deal…
Sleep a little after 5 a.m.
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