[i]
☼ ○ ▬
I’ve been transported to a futuristic machine planet,
originally made by machines, or Transformers, whom still inhabit the lands
along with humans who help keep up maintenance and teach the machines human
speech and human ways of thinking. Along with a few buddies of mine we are
taken through a maze of mechanical metallic hallways and into a suburban sector
where a special teaching room is located. An old man, who appears to be human,
begins a lecture. I ask him what brought him to this planet and why he decided
to help the machines out. His answer is hard to understand but it seems it’s
just something he felt drawn to. The dream blurs into a different scene, the
setting in Buffalo, New York. I’m riding in the passenger seat of a car with my
dad at the wheel. The sun is just setting. I attempt to describe what Buffalo
is like.
Me: “Um. It’s calm. Quiet. You’re alone. The nature is
powerful.”
We’re driving down an off-road that leads to a campground of
sorts. Along the way various groups of people have gathered in the hills,
praying, singing, and chanting in celebration. I perch myself on the side of
the window to snap a few photos with my camera. The deep orange sunlight is
perfect. I hold on tight as my dad randomly hits the brakes. We arrive at the
end where an outside auditorium is. On the side is a shop selling convenient
store items, mostly fresh produce: bananas, individually wrapped plums, and
chocolates.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up right at 2 p.m.
Instant Blueberry Oatmeal.
Errands.
Concord Grapes. Figs.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Salt n Vinegar Chips.
Pomegranate Cherry Ade.
Watching God Bless America (2011).
More errands. Shopping around for a running shoe. I settle
on a Reebok brand at Dick’s Sporting Goods.
Meeting up with Anthony at the courts over on Mill Dam and
First Colonial. We strike up a game with a tattooed black guy who’s obviously
got his game going for him. He suggests he can take the both of us on. We
accept the offer but his cocky attitude is unbecoming. At one point he verbally
complains about Anthony’s strong defensive behavior, which appears to be
borderline fouls. The mood gets tense and turns the game sour. The kid has his
shots down pact that’s for sure. The game is over 16 – 11, his win. Anthony tries
to conclude ties and cool the water by shaking his hand and saying, “You’re a
warrior. I respect that.”
“Good game,” I add.
The guy saunters off to his girlfriend waiting for him in
the car. Anthony and I continue shooting the ball around and psychoanalyzing
our lone star opponent and his ungentlemanly antics. It turns into a
much-needed powwow – discussing the upcoming shifts in our lives.
Afterwards, I drive over to Shore Drive and pick up Aysena.
Back at the house fixing dinner.
White Bean Soup with Mixed Vegetables and Garlic Bread.
Her and I are sitting down at the card table enjoying our
meal. Anthony, with guitar in hand, and Kevin, with violin in arm, pop out of
the corner and serenade us for dinner entertainment, like you would expect from
a mariachi band at a Mexican restaurant. Kevin makes up some kind of silly
refined accent and says, “Hope you enjoy your stay here at 1435.”
Me: “Thanks Kevin. That was great.”
...
Elliott rings me and demands a bodgiboard night out. Aysena
and I meet up with him by the Country Club on Holly Road. I brought along my
longboard and scooter as well. After a few runs down the asphalt hills we take
our three-person troupe to the boardwalk. The bodgiboard attracts a few
spectators including tourist families, a local skate gang, and some drunk
people with a pet snake. All in all it’s a pretty successful promotion of the
bodgiboard. Elliott’s gonna need to patent it soon.
After our wonderful adventures, Aysena and I return to the
house. She had a semi-nasty fall with the scooter earlier so I tend to the
wound on her knee. Retreating to my bedroom.
...
Sharing Concord Grapes.
...
Challenging her in a vocabulary test I point out to various
objects in the room and ask what they are in Russian, “Что это?”
Her: “Mug.”
Me: “Что это?”
Her: “Picture.”
Me: “Что это?”
Her: “Fan.”
...
Banter and romantic exchanges. Lying on the bed together –
kissing – making out – more and more passion fills my heart. She has a mature
style of kissing that keeps me hooked and yearning to learn more. I rub her
back and caress the feathery features of her body. Progressing to deeper
ecstasies – my fingers pleasuring her, but not too rough, just enough to ignite
a reaction and light the fire. But everything moves slowly – the momentum
taking it’s time. I slip off her shorts. She pulls mine down from behind. We’re
practically naked. She perches her delicate form on top of me – long black hair
hovering over my face entrapping me under a spell. I want her. She wants me. I
put on protection and so it goes. The mood is smooth and dreamy. It’s always
different at first when making love to someone new. It’s like uncharted
territory for an explorer. At times I feel inexperienced and other times I feel
confident. No orgasm necessary. We’re done.
I turn to her angelic face – staring at her beautifully and naturally squinty eyes. I comment, “That was wonderful.”
She just nods and smiles in response.
...
Her: “What are you thinking about?”
Me: “Um. I was just thinking I’ve never made love to a
Russian.”
She laughs in shock as if she was expecting an entirely
different answer.
I giggle along with her and ask, “What? What’s so funny?
It’s true.”
...
Settling down. She drifts off to sleep. I tinker away at
thoughts on the computer and try my hand at poker on my phone. Then joining her
in dreamland at about 3:30 a.m.
[i] All photos
by Aysena Bosikova.
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