This is an open and unfiltered diary-style journal
on the life of James Robert Smith.
This blog will contain sometimes graphic experiences (both beautiful and ugly),
sometimes stark insight, and all honest and factual documentation of dreams, diet, activity, and thoughts.
Ezekiel 4:9 Cinnamon Raisin Bread. Coffee with Milk and
Sugar.
Playing with Kevin. He attempts to break into my room and
lock himself in with me on the outside. His plan was to post an embarrassing
Facebook status on my computer, as he’s tried and succeeded before. Fortunately
for me I prepared for this and snag the spare key behind the EXIT sign on the
wall in the hallway. His mission failed.
Making a lentil spread from scratch – roasting it in the
oven with carrots, onions, mushrooms, garlic, cumin, and olive oil.
Lentil Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Orange
Juice.
Sorting out things at the storage unit – experiencing
desktop computer problems.
Kiwi.
Back home. Getting frustrated that my plans to record didn’t
work out. I feel helpless sometimes...these obstacles that deter me from
accomplishing my goals.
Cod Fillets with Rice and Cabbage Sprout Salad.
Watching Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (2007).
Minnie stops by soon before Darren arrives home from work.
Sharing Chocolate Chips Cookies with Milk and conversation.
Darren: “I love radio. If I was ruler of the world I would
be like, no more T.V. Radio. It would just be radio. I think I would show
movies but no television.”
...
Darren: “I just think that America, in the last like
30 years, there’s so little culture. Everyone is just clinging to what they see
on the television and its become so intense that a person’s preferences are no
longer some like rudimentary thing. What a person likes has become their total
fucking identity. What a person believes is no longer something that can mold
or change or be reasoned with. A person’s belief system is their whole
socialization and identity.”
...
Talking about how there’re no fat mermaids.
Darren: “If you had a fat mermaid...are you serious? I would
be pissed. If I was Odysseus and I rolled up on these sirens and they had a fat
chick with them I would be done. I would be so mad! I would be
like, Are you kidding me?I went on an odyssey for this? I’d be so
angry!”
I’m locked in a time continuum inside four shifting rooms
representing four different time zones. I’m explaining to a race of tiny people
(like in Gulliver’s Travels) about the coming future of popular music
genres. I reveal that in the first period post-pop-progressive sounds will be
popular. In the second period, it will be post-emo-pop. The third,
electronica-pop. And in the last days, tribal hop-hop will take its reign.
▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬
Inside a house with Aysena and a few of her family members,
maybe sisters. Danger outside...men with guns. I take the leadership role of
the situation and make sure everyone’s safe. At some point I’ve ventured
upstairs where I discover a Thai restaurant. Even though I’m not interested in
eating anything I grab a menu from the counter to appease the dark-skinned man
waiting to serve me. I look over the balcony to find that Aysena’s former
boyfriend has arrived and will be staying here overnight. The whole situation
between them is foggy to me. I thought the relationship was over but he doesn’t
seem to act like it. They walk upstairs and sit down next to me. The boy, whose
name is understood to be Michael Wise for some reason, accidently bumps into
me.
Me: “Hey man! Watch it.”
He doesn’t apologize but instead mutters something rude.
Me: “Excuse me? What did you say?”
His attitude is hostile. I feel uncomfortable and I can’t
understand why Ays isn’t doing anything about it.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up at 2 p.m. on the dot.
Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.
Errands.
Egg Sandwich with Mayonnaise and Tomato. Salt n Vinegar
Chips. Sweet Green Tea.
Watching Bernie (2011).
I got invited to Leslie’s house. She lives with her stepmother
and father who’s been successful as a dentist for some odd 30 years and
therefore owns a fancy house out in Little Neck. As I’m given a tour it’s
revealed her dad has an affinity with the color purple. I’m not used to being
inside such extravagant living quarters. I recall when I was a boy living down
the street in a big house like this with my mom, but only for a brief time. As
well we had rented out rooms. Leslie continues showing me through the halls –
select artwork hung on the walls, some of her composition.
...
I notice two stainless steel salt n pepper shakers. I pick
up the salt container and press the button at the top. It automatically grinds
the salt crystals and distributes them at the bottom along with a convenient
light that shines upon where they land.
Leslie: “These are the most important things that is in our
house.”
Me: “That’s a big statement.”
Leslie: “Oh no. Because in case of an emergency they’re
flashlights.”
Me: “What? So when you wanna use it as a flashlight you have
to get salt constantly coming out of it.”
Reid (her brother): “Also if you run out of batteries you
have a trail to come back.”
...
In her bedroom. The Shins lightly playing on her Mac. She
leaves to help her brother with some physics homework while I’m left to explore
her bookshelves. Sitting down and looking through her personal art scrapbook, a
collection of doodles and poetic excerpts in mostly chronological order from a
child to the present day. As I’m flipping through all the sporadic images and
words I experience a mini overwhelming moment – thinking about all the
beautiful people I know and the richness that each one of them bears, and
specifically in this city. And there are probably more vibrant souls that I
haven’t even met yet. But here I am sitting in this room inside this big house
within this neighborhood in this one of a kind city a part of this unique
country on this vast planet...learning about one soul in particular.
[ii]
She returns and asks, “Did you find anything interesting?”
Me: “Oh yeah.”
She notices I’m holding her art scrapbook and says, “That’s
my life book.”
...
Leslie: “Another thing is that I play games with myself,
like I try really hard to just be okay all the time and I find myself doing
things that contradict what I should be doing for myself.”
...
Downstairs hanging out in a pristine clean kitchen to which
her dad is apparently OCD about keeping in order so much that he could easily
walk in, notice a speck, and take the effort to wipe it up immediately. She
makes fun of him for it. I’m fed delicious Salmon and Couscous leftovers.
Amidst the conversation Leslie makes aware to me, “I will
hop the train to tangent town without even realizing I entered the station.” I
chuckle.
Back upstairs in her room listening to her sort through
memories and looking through old photos. Talking about past relationships.
Me: “I’m very passive and very accepting of others...too
understanding in the sense that...it was really hard with someone like her
because she was such an aggressive, um, pursuer...and just like, she wanted
control. And here I am this timid little man...who isn’t very controlling...”
Leslie: “Or doesn’t have a desire to gain control. It’s like
fighting a battle that you’re not fighting back.”
...
Reading through a favorite book of hers that tells about
strange sports you never knew existed like toe wrestling, ostrich racing, and
extreme ironing.
As I walk outside to leave I notice the ice frost that’s
developed on my car. It’s really that time of year. The moon is exceptionally
bright and glows through my front windshield causing me to pause for a moment.
Dropping my car off at the shop to get two new front tires.
Using Kevin’s bike I ride over to the clubhouse in Linkhorn Bay to which I have
a membership through Chanticleer. Running on the treadmill. While resting I
chat with Aysena on VK. I sent her a picture of all the Russian girls using the
machines.
She responds, “wooooow too many dolls in black. say to them
privet kukolki”
Me: “haha. yeah ill say that to them. but the one on the
right is cute.”
Her: “=(”
Me: “don’t worry you are much cuter, doll.”
Her: “i worry! coz you are cute and they could stole you
from me”
Me: “hmf. haha. they are probably not interesting. they are
probably boring girls.”
Her: “you dont know cunning russian blondy and blue eyed
girls”
Me: “they have black hair. so i think its okay.”
Her: “haha. dont make me fool american boy ! )) i have super
6th feeling”
Me: “you mean 6th sense?”
Her: “exactly hehe”
...
Outside I witness a fighting match between two geese on the
lake – they’re fierce and without any mercy. Their geese buddies cluck and
cheer them on the sidelines.
Back home.
Lentil Spread Sandwich with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips.
Sweet Green Tea.
Watching Quantum of Solace (2008).
Browsing Elliott’s thrift store. He leaves two computers out
back as donations for the house. Then, to Target for toilet paper and paper
towels in bulk. There’s a couple in front of me in line and they seem to be
having a minor disagreement on how they’re paying for their purchases. The dude
is wearing a black leather jacket with a wallet chain and crew cut, a semi
rough looking fellow. And the girl seems normal but a little feisty and whiny.
After they move on, the girl at the register gives me a look like she’s glad
they left.
“Creepy couple,” she exclaims and adds, “I’m glad I don’t
have a boyfriend.” I just smile.
...
Elliott gets off work and we ride to Norfolk to hang out at
Emily’s apartment. She’ll be moving to New York for a few months to be in an acting
school and she invited select friends over. Snacking on Chips and Salsa and
sipping on a beer. It’s kind of like a mini 1623 reunion, all the faces that
used to frequent the former house I used to live in. Daniel White, Tyler Watts,
Rocky, Joey, JP, Wes and Emily, and of course Ambrotious the cat.
After a few hours Elliott and I leave. He accidently pokes
his eye on his car’s antenna when walking around the side of it. It kind of
sparks an overall irritation for him. He explains how he feels kind of
disconnected from that bunch and has felt that over the past year. People grow
and progress – they change. It’s a part of life as we age.
Back home.
Spaghetti with Onions, Mushrooms, Peppers, and Tomato Sauce.
Out in the middle of a parking lot is my car with all the
windows rolled down, keys still in the ignition, and phone laying in the
mid-console. Some guys are sorting through found items they’re considering to
sell like bicycles, mopeds, and other misc household things. I get distracted
analyzing one of the bicycles and meanwhile I notice one of the dudes sticking
his hands through my car windows and pulling stuff out. I run over and confront
him and find he’s rummaging through my trash bag. I get angry.
Me: “Excuse me? Look, I don’t really care if you want to
have my garbage but you need to ask first! You didn’t even get my permission!”
He doesn’t seem to have any respect for me and neither does
the other man. All of a sudden a gang of middle-aged people are lounging around
inside my car smoking cigarettes and drinking and having a good time. I
confront them in the same way.
▬ ○ ☼
Ezekiel 4:9 Cinnamon Raisin Bread. Apple Slices. Orange
Juice.
Skyping with Aysena. It’s nice to see her face on my computer
screen. She’s sad about life. I try to cheer her up and eventually our
conversation gets brighter and more entertaining.
Catching up on writing.
Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Sweet Maui Onion
Kettle Cooked Chips with Salsa and Avocado.
Watching Meeting Evil (2012).
Downstairs Tristan and James are trying to learn “GSF”, an
old MxPx song – James on the concertina and Tristan on bass. I do some crunches
on the floor during. Darren, upset about an on going prank war between him and
Kevin, is scheming. His maniacal laughter really enhances the moment when he
takes a can of herring and strategically places it in discreet spots around
Kevin’s room. I try to dissuade him in escalating this mini-war of theirs but
he claims he must show who’s the best.
Me: “It’s just a power game. You obviously didn’t learn
anything from history.”
Sipping on Coffee and continuing this day of writing.
A big, big Salad with an Egg. Then stuffing myself with
Cherry Pie.
At an airport. I follow a group of people understood to be
on the same flight as me. We locate a foyer room at the end of the concourse.
The moving escalators are in reverse with the stairs moving upward and we can’t
climb down. Even the elevators are out of whack. They’ve closed off this sector
I suppose but why wouldn’t they just lock the doors rather than allow all this
mumbo jumbo. We’re all confused.
The weather is absolutely lovely, cold enough to wear a thin
jacket but warm enough to ride with the windows down.
Delivering an order to a semi-wealthy house on Caton Drive
near the hospital. A mother/wife comes to the door to sign the receipt. She
asks in a mild Russian accent, “Can I put tip on here?”
“Yes, of course,” I answer.
She scribbles in a $6 tip and thanks me with a smile. I walk
away and try to imagine her story. Probably about ten years ago she comes to
Virginia Beach from Russia to work for the summer. She meets a charming
businessman in a bar at the oceanfront. They fall in love, get married, have
kids, and move into this big house. She must be a happy and grateful Russian
woman.
Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Maui Onion Kettle
Cooked Chips with Avocado and Salsa.
The last half of the afternoon is dreadfully slow. But
thankfully I brought my laptop to work today to keep myself busy with research
and Facebook.
Evening deliveries.
Bosc Pear.
It’s slow.
Vegetable Lo Mein.
Off work.
Elliott invited me for a Rick’s night out. Leslie reached
out to me so she also joins. I hop myself up on Coffee. Elliott writes out his
dinner options on a napkin to help him decide what to eat. After helping him
through it he ends up going for the usual (the comfort zone food).
James walks in to join us. We notice his freshly shaved
mustache and side burns.
Elliott: “If I had just met you, like at a Wawa or
something, my first impression of you would not be who I think you are right
now.”
James: “What would be your first impression of me?”
Elliott: “I don’t know. Like if you came up and spoke to me
and I didn’t know who you were I would probably think you’re a hard ass.”
Me: “Yeah! I would too actually.”
Leslie: “I would not!”
James: “Really? What would you think?”
Leslie: “I’d think you’d just finished fishing or
something.”
[Ha-ha-ha]
James: “I feel like meeting Robert as a stranger would be
the same as meeting him everyday.”
[Ha-ha-ha]
James: “I feel like I’d have the same feelings and/or
emotions.”
...
Everybody’s food comes out. Elliott receives his plate of a
grilled cheese sandwich with tater tots and mac n cheese.
I comment, “Dude, starch meal of the century!”
...
Talking about communication on Facebook and the internet in general...
Me: “There’s a certain amount of etiquette that people have.
Everyone’s etiquette differs.”
Elliott: “Some people have bad etiquette. I don’t know it’s
pretty funny.”
Me: “It’s just so interesting to me. You got to think about
it, like the internet’s not very old. Like, it happened while we were kids. The
internet showed up out of nowhere. We’re still a part of the generation that’s
being acclimated to internet behavior. We’re learning how to be cyber kids.”
James says something in the style of a valley girl voice,
“I’ve got that part covered,” and kind of sings the last word.
Me: “What are we in Clueless right now? If they
remade Clueless and instead of starring high school girls they starred—”
James: “Us?”
Everyone chuckles.
Me: “—middle-aged men what would it be called?”
Leslie: “Dumb and Dumber.”
...
Eventually, the discussion migrates to the topic of
flatulence and the many ways you can produce flatulence with your body. James
of course is an expert and we come up with at least ten different techniques.
We’re the only customers in Rick’s at this point so we don’t hold back with the
fart noises. It’s endless laughter and nonsense.
Elliott attempts to make the sounds on his arm with his
mouth. Instead he sprays a little bit of spit in the air.
Leslie: “Say it. Don’t spray it!”
Me: “Hey! Flatulate it. Don’t extrapolate it!”
[Ha-ha-ha]
Me: “Dude, you sound like a frog farting under water!”
James explains that when he gets back to the house he’s
going to try the back-to-floor fart and give a raspberry to either Anthony or
Kevin.
James: “But who’s gonna let me?”
Me: “Anthony won’t. But Kevin definitely will.”
James: “I feel like his belly would be smelly.”
[Ha-ha-ha]
Back at the house. Leslie and I compile the doodle artifacts
of the night. We finish filling in the line graph that follows Elliott and I’s
hangout time throughout an average year. I use the blog to see how often
Elliott is involved in my life. Turns out August and December were the most
popular months for us.
...
Leslie and I rev ourselves up in conversation – talking
about circadian rhythms – our eating patterns – our sleeping patterns – the
importance of nutrition education and resourcefulness. She claims she talks too
much but I find myself, when around her, talking too much as well. After 3:30
a.m. she leaves.
Chores at work: bagging the fried noodles – folding the
menus – stocking sauces.
Grilled Cheese with Hummus and Tomato. Tortilla Chips with
Salsa and Avocado. Sweet Green Tea.
The evening picks up for deliveries. I’m on autopilot –
driving through the same neighborhoods and delivering to the same familiar
addresses.
Thoughts on how complacent I’ve become in my choice to
publicize my life in blog form. I sometimes forget that others are involved and
it becomes difficult to exclude important memories because I don’t want to
exploit them. Publicity vs. privacy. It’s a never-ending battle.
Fried Shrimp with Broccoli, Onions, Carrots, and Rice in Garlic
Sauce.
Off work and back home. It’s quiet in here...just the way I
like it.
Doing a few chores while recapping general ideas of the day.
Earlier in the day Margot texted me a response to the blog
entry I posted today from last year which involved me having a romantic
encounter with somebody else. At the time I was not seeing Margot but of
course she finds a reason to hate my decisions and actions. It just turns into
a Bash Robert Fest 2012. She’s forever victimizing herself and finding ways to
say woe is me. We continue texting back and forth all night. All of a
sudden, she’s having epiphanies about our relationship over the years. She’s
being completely unreasonable and emotional. And I take on a mediating role. Why
isn’t this stuff past us by now? Let it go. Let it go. After she gets all
that bitterness out of her system she ends it with something sappy, but poetic
and nice. I mean I could see this quoted over a high quality photo of a couple
in bed, and of course it would be re-blogged on Tumblr a thousand times.
Her: “What’s really sad about this is I know I can never
truly say goodbye to you. A small part of me is always going to want to reach
out to you. But I need to convince myself that I never want to see you again.
When really all I want right now is to be lying next to you.”
Hanging out at a bar or a restaurant surrounded by a lot of
friends and strangers. President Obama makes an appearance. I confidently
approach and ask if it’s okay to take a photo with him along with my friend. I
pull out my phone and hold it up to make sure we’re all in frame but for some
reason I can’t take a clear picture. Each one is blurry. I attempt to fix the
problem but by that time Obama has to move on. I try to track him down in the
hallway but no luck.
It’s actually wintertime weather now – in the 30’s.
Dreadfully slow in the afternoon.
Snapping the peas.
Hard Boiled Egg. Five Guys French Fries with Ketchup.
Raspberry Lemonade.
Business picks up in the evening.
Mini Milk Chocolate Turkey.
Lentils, Broccoli, Snow Peas, Onions, and Rice in Brown
Sauce.
Grossing myself out by watching The Human Centipede 2:
Full Sequence (2011).
“In so far as the learner was in Error, and now receives
the Truth and with it the condition for understanding it, a change takes place
within him like the change from non-being to being.” - Søren Kierkegaard
Chocolate Milk and a Soviet version of Winnie the Pooh...
Sleep 3:30 a.m.
[i] Still frame
from Winnie the Pooh (Soviet version).
In a high school. It’s understood that I’m a student along
with a few roommates and friends of mine. I enter the classroom and watch as a
helicopter crash through the window. An unsuspecting guy in the middle of the
room gets slammed and cut up. I look at the bloody scene. Everyone is in shock.
It’s strange because the helicopter sort of transformed into a ceiling fan.
Later, in another classroom I find myself drawn to the window. I can see a
black spec in the sky gradually growing bigger. I fear the same thing will
happen. I warn everyone around me.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up after a deep sleep at 12:40 p.m. I hear the sound
of the Spanish speaking voices of Jennifer and my stepmother reverberating
through the bedroom door of my guest room.
Instant Oatmeal. Decaf Green Tea. Orange Juice.
Hanging out around the house. I feel obligated to entertain.
Dancing in the living room with Jennifer. She shows me how to salsa dance and
other various moves. We lock arms and take each other by the hands attempting
to spin one another. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Patty is cooking up a storm.
...
Outside kicking the soccer ball around. It’s a beautiful
brisk day in November.
Lunch/dinner on the patio: Egg, Cabbage Salad, Rice,
Broccoli, and Collard Greens.
Teaching each other card games. We’re laughing constantly.
Enjoying this playful relationship with my newly acquired stepsister – a bond
has formed.
Slice after slice of Sweet Potato Pie. Coffee.
Jennifer writes something in Spanish down in my notebook.
She acts embarrassed when I try to translate it on the computer.
“La dia que te conoci mi caiste muy bien y espero que yo
tambien a ti por que eres una persona muy adorable y feliz y eso me encanta de
ti y espero que yo tambien te había caido bien”
Directly translated: “The day I met my you fell very well
and I also hope that you're a very lovely and happy and I love you and I hope
you too had fallen well”
I think by “fallen” or “fell” she means “feel”. Either way I
take these words as her way of saying nice to meet you and that she’s glad her
stepbrother turned out to be likable and impressive.
I’m delegated to drive the girls to Lowe’s for some red
ribbons and ornaments that Patty needs to complete the outside Christmas
decorations. My dad just got off work and just wants to relax in his recliner.
I take the wheel and pretend to maneuver like an amateur driver, hitting the
brakes suddenly and sounding confused on where to go. Patty and Jennifer laugh
hysterically.
It’s time for me to head back to Virginia Beach. I say my
goodbyes to the family and leave. During the three-hour trek Jennifer and I
text back and forth. Its kind of fun as I sometimes have to copy and paste the
español portions into Google Translate. She’s asking if I think she’s pretty. I
explain that she’s gonna win over a lot of boy’s hearts. I realize that she’s
just beginning the teenage stage in her life. Not too long from now she’s going
to be dealing with boys in a way she’s never had to deal with them before. This
whole brother-sister thing is still unfamiliar to me, and I’m trying to get
acclimated to it. I guess it’s not too big of deal considering I don’t live in
that household. But I still have an important role to play and I’m up for the
task.
8:15 a.m. I’m up and on the road. North Carolina bound...to see my dad for Thanksgiving.
...
Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar.
...
Driving on 58 and then on I-95. The beautiful autumn scenery accompanies my peripheral vision. Talking on the phone with mom for over an hour – on the bigger grander issues in life – about equipping ourselves against inconsistencies and fallacies – understanding our influence on the people around us and how powerful that can be in determining, in some cases, life or death.
And here I am in Goldsboro. The trip only took three hours. I pull up into the driveway of my dad’s house and there he is already standing there. Of course he comments about my purple car, “The Purple People Eater!”
...
A bunch of months ago the daughter of my dad’s wife Patty, from Honduras, moved in with them. I meet my stepsister for the first time. Her name is Jennifer and she is sixteen, a sprightly young gal who’s still working on her “Inglés”. We all hop into the car and drive to Clayton. We’re having Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt Pansy’s husband’s mother’s house. She’s a whopping 93 years old, healthy and British. Her house is historic, just a tad bit older than her, over a hundred years old. Exploring the ancient drafty architecture – complete with an exhausted upright piano slightly out of tune, space heaters from the 50’s, a hefty ping pong table, a working stove from 1946, and a big book collection – it’s been well kept up and there’s a beautiful spirit of love and warmth here.
Gathered around the table for an authentic Thanksgiving meal including all the essential dishes: Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and Gravy, Collard Greens, Stuffing, Green Beans, Butter Beans, Deviled Eggs, Cranberry Sauce, and Dinner Rolls. Despite my pescetarian diet I partake in everything. The sound of clinking plates and glasses as dinner talk ensues. Scarlet, my aunt’s dog, scurries underneath the table hoping for scraps. My aunt discusses the unfortunate health problems with her dog and explains, “She’s my buddy—she’s my girlfriend in North Carolina cause I don’t have one so she’s my girlfriend for me. I talk to her like I would a girlfriend. She’s my company. She’s a good dog.”
Afterwards, my dad, Jennifer, and I venture outside and hang out on the colossal-size front porch with a chair swing. I pluck away on the guitar singing a few familiar tunes for my dad and I to sing along as well as whatever songs I’ve been working on lately. For some reason my voice is hoarse ever since early this morning and I’m forced to half-whisper the melodies. The weather outside is wonderful – the sun glaring down on the floorboards and providing heat to our bodies despite the brisk cool air.
Eventually, we leave and drive about an hour or so away to another family-related gathering. On the way. Jennifer and I get anxious in the backseat. I crank up some tunes on my iPod that both her and Patty can bop to.
...
I observe the father-daughter relationship between Jennifer and my dad. It’s kind of strange at first because I’m supposed to be his only child but I kind of like the idea of having a stepsister. Jennifer leans forward and fiddles with my dad’s grey head of hair turning it into a mini-mohawk as a joke. She then transforms my hair in the same way.
Me: “Like father like son!”
...
We arrive in Grimesland where my aunt Deloris lives. Inside the cozy house sipping on Coffee and having Pumpkin Pie. Vicki, a cousin I’ve only met once or twice in my life is here with her husband and two lively young boys. Throwing the football around with them and Jennifer outside. I’m the big kid and proud to be the instigator of holiday fun. One of the boys is super talkative and carries around his iPad blaring pop tunes. At some point I get coerced into strumming some Christmas songs on guitar for a sing-a-long.
The evening dwindles down. My dad and a few of the fellows pay close attention to the Redskins-Cowboys football game on television. While waiting I sit on the couch with Jennifer flipping through the pages of a Webster’s Dictionary pointing out words for her to learn.
...
We leave and head back home. The drive is long. But this is quite normal in North Carolina where most anyone you know is always a “drive” away rather than around the corner, at least that’s always how I experienced visits to this state. There’s a quickly growing kinship between Jennifer and I, a sibling kind of relationship that I lost growing up when my real sister died in ‘91. It’s kind of nice especially since she’s a teenager and I feel I can have that big brotherly influence on her.
...
Finally making it home. In the guest/office room I help Jennifer upload some select Spanish hip-hop songs onto her phone. With the Google Translate tab opened we’re able to understand each other in conversation a little better. She types in questions about me and I type back answers to her.
...
Snacking on some Popcorn that turns out to be expired and therefore plastic-like. I revert to a few slices of Sweet Potato Pie.
I’m terribly beat from the whole day. Sleep 2 a.m.
Standing in line inside a school or public facility. What
are we waiting for? In conversation with friends cracking jokes, something
to do with the Italian language. Kevin leans over to a dark skinned man behind
us and asks, “Don’t you speak Italian?” and then immediately turns away as if
he just realized he said something stupid. Kevin lowers his head and grins. We
all laugh. The Italian man doesn’t seem amused and approaches us. It’s
understood that he’s a police officer. He pulls out a strange device understood
to be a breathalyzer and demands Kevin breathe into it. Then he shoves it into
my face. I blow into it and the thing starts beeping along with a blinking red
LED light.
He questions me, “Were you drinking tonight?”
I stay honest. “Yes I had one beer earlier.”
I was hoping he’d be lenient on me since I wasn’t loud and
obnoxious. But he pulls me outside and questions me some more.
Me: “I don’t normally drink, officer. And I never get
drunk.”
Something happened to my car. I notice somebody stripped my
hood and roof replacing it with another hood and roof of a different shade of
purple.
Me: “Whoa! Why would somebody do that? Why would somebody go
through all the effort of that?”
The officer seems confused as I am. He inspects the car as
if he’s looking for something awry. Across the parking lot I spot another
vehicle with my hood and roof. “There it is!” I run over to make sure
it’s true. I don’t know whose car it is or anything. I mean what can I do at
this point?
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up at some point.
Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice. A shot of Apple
Cider Vinegar. Vitamin D (2,000 IU). Zinc (50 mg).
Chatting with Aysena.
Researching new computers.
Playing music.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio.
Honey Green Tea.
Playing more music.
Exercising – learning Russian.
Going for a run around the neighborhood along to piano
sonatas.
James Graves arrives. Minnie arrives. I bake Iced Whole
Wheat Pumpkin Muffins while James and Minnie fill up paint into glass bottles
and shake them up creating a smeared color effect.
Sharing the muffins and eating Leftover Salmon with Onions,
Mushrooms, Green Peppers, Carrots, and Rice.
A few games of Sequence.
Jes arrives. Then, Becca’s here all the way from Blacksburg.
I sit down in a chair and she cuts my hair.
Walking around with a friend in a courtyard that has a roof
but no walls. I’m giving her the tour of this little room enclosure I
constructed specifically for recording that also has no walls but all the
equipment is placed in such a way to give the impression there are walls. It’s
very dark outside. I guess we’re about to spend the night. She notices a
stalker about a hundred feet away.
Her: “Why is he staring at us?”
Chills run down my spine because it’s really creepy. But I
ensure, “Don’t worry about him. We’re safe here.”
I notice a green and yellow python slither by us. He perches
his front half up and faces me with eager eyes. I try moving side to side in a
strafing technique to avoid him snapping at me. It’s proving difficult.
Jes shows up. I stop by the house and we sit down at the
table with Kevin to eat lunch. Jes mentions how she sees this place as a zoo
and I’m it’s zookeeper.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Tortilla Chips with
Avocado and Salsa. Honey Green Tea.
The day picks up with steady deliveries.
Bosc Pear.
Vegetable Lo Mein.
Off work.
The kids are letting off some steam downstairs playing some
kind of card game called 21 that involves drinking vodka-orange soda and
establishing rules to abide by otherwise if you don’t you lose an article of
clothing.
I leave to return this pimple spot treatment to Margot (I
had borrowed it from her when I had that mountainous spot on my nose). Hanging
out on the couch watching The Voice where up and coming young singers
show their talent. I eat up on a slice of Carrot Cream Cake and drink a
Killian’s. We’re playful towards each other and it feels understood that we’ll
have sex. We both agree that it’s for the best that we don’t hang out like this
anymore – I mean we made this agreement ages ago anyway. Again, I don’t look at
this as a concession or any kind of major re-connect. It’s a subtle
re-connect...a morale pick-me-up, I don’t know.
Back home.
Anthony knocks on my door. As soon as I open it up he
reaches in for a strong hug. “I just wanna give you a hug and tell you that I
love you. My dad always said you should tell the people you love that you love
them every day.” His eyes a little watery, I can see he’s burdened with heavy
thoughts. Then he points to my arm and mentions something poetic about the
flesh and how it’s not always gonna be there. Jonathon’s suicide has raised a
lot of questions and awareness between all of us here at the house. It seems to
be affecting our lives more and more everyday.
In other news, I receive a Facebook message from Raven, yes,
Raven. She had actually asked for a string of photos that were taken last
summer with Jonathon in them (they were close friends). She added a sort of
apology excerpt. It’s been over a year since I’ve had any contact with her as
we departed from our intense but brief romantic affair. I mean the whole reason
any of us knew Jonathon was because of her. But as cheesy as it sounds I’ve had
multiple dreams over the past year about this day...the day she acknowledges
the ugliness of the events and how everything went down. I dreamed of
reconciliation intently that it felt absolutely real in the dream. But here it
is in reality...
“Also, I'm really sorry about everything. I really just
need to be a better person now, and I feel like last summers events were very
selfish of me. It truly hurts me to remember causing you and Adam pain, as well
as the strain it put on my friendships (Amanda). I also feel bad because I
remember how close I was with Jon and that moment in my life and instead of
using those opportunities to get closer I was so caught up in what was
happening that I couldn't even work on my own existing friendships, and I can't
ignore that feeling. I don't know, I have a lot of regret to work through about
almost everything in my life, and I hold my emotions in my front pockets so
it's not like I can let this all pass. Ive had very few opportunities to
apologize in sincerity and a state of clarity, so I would like for this to
be one of them. You are an exceptional and kind person and you didn't deserve
for me to treat you the way that I did.”
I hear the sound of persistent glass breaking coming from
downstairs. I investigate to find Richie and Josh and whomever else without
reason slamming glass bottles out back and inside the house. There’s
drunkenness in the air. The dining room is a muddy mess. I go on a rant and demand
that everybody leave. This is all too much. I really don’t understand this kind
of destructionist mindset. I mean this is their forte. I like to destroy things
sometimes but this is in their blood. It controls them.
...
I go for a run. It’s only a little bit chilly. It’s
refreshing. My escape. As Beethoven’s Sonata in E Minor Opus 90 trickles into
my ears I feel righteous anger...anger against all the wrong in this world and
all the wrong that hits close to home. I think about Jonathon’s death. I think
about Anthony’s fierce attitude earlier. I think about Aysena. I think about my
mom. I think about Margot. I think about my sins. I think about destruction and
beauty. My heart beats faster than the tempo of this classical piano. God we
need purity. We need salvation from our retched lives. I look at my friends,
and friends of friends, and how they act like degenerates when intoxicated.
What does this accomplish? Absolutely nothing. It merely reinforces the
downfalls of humanity.
Settling down in my room with a bag of Popcorn and a can of
Busch Beer.
Watching Bug (2006).
Peter Evans: [on why he hasn't been with a woman for a
long time] “I just decided it wasn't worth it anymore.”
Agnes White: “What wasn't?”
Peter Evans: “You have a centre right? A place inside of
you that's just you, that hasn't been spoiled... And I think it's really
important to try and keep that space sacred. In some sense, on some level,
but... sex or relationships cloud that space... or, they cloud me I guess, they
make it difficult to be just me and not have to worry about... being somebody
else. I sound like a big asshole, don't I.”
I arrive back home to get ready for the day. As I’m boiling
some water I hear somebody march slowly down the stairs. I look out and it’s
Anthony. He’s standing completely still and with a forlorn face as if he’d just
seen the most terrifying ghost.
“Jonathon committed suicide last night,” he says.
I feel the same dread he feels.
“What? Are you kidding me?”
I wasn’t terribly close to Jonathon but he came over to the
house off and on to hang out with our friend-family. He was always
quiet-spoken. Anthony had taken to him like a distant brother.
Me: “I don’t even know what to think or say. This is
intense.”
Anthony shows me this book that Jonathon gave him a week ago
and claimed it was his favorite book:The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa.
While I’m driving around delivering, dark thoughts press
hard on my mind. I’ve never had to deal with suicide so close to our thread of
friends. I give Anthony a call to kind of debrief and figure it out. The more
and more I think about it the more shaken up I feel. I think the biggest thing
to remember is we can’t take responsibility. It wasn’t anybody else’s fault.
Jonathon made is own decision according to his philosophy at the time.
But it still breaks my heart. This is real life.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Potato Chip Trio.
Honey Green Tea. Vegan Pumpkin Muffins.
Delivering an order to the Fairfield Inn at the Oceanfront.
As I walk into the lobby I can see through the big glass windows kite surfers
out in the water braving the high force winds.
As usual Sunday is steady for business.
Fried Shrimp with Broccoli, Onions, and Carrots in Garlic
Sauce.
Off work.
Chatting on the phone with Margot while I do some crunches.
Hashing out some understandings with part humor and part sincerity. In no way
have we been “seeing” each other or anything like that. We’ve merely seen
each other more than once over this past month. But I’ve taken a kind of
carefree attitude towards it and towards most things lately. In a way she has
too.
Running into Kevin in the hallway. I can see the heaviness
in his eyes. Jonathon’s suicide affected all of us in a surreal way.
It becomes an awkward situation in my house when Aysena
visits me while Margot is here. Margot doesn’t know the full extent of who she
is to me. We’re leaving. Margot gave me the keys to this car I’ve never driven
and I’m having trouble finding it. It’s supposed to be a Camaro or a Camo, I
don’t know.
“So where is this car, Margot?”
She’s being evasive on purpose.
“Which car is it?! C’mon! I’m gonna be late for work!”
I find myself uncontrollably screaming in anger. I’m
stressed because I also have to give Aysena a ride somewhere. She walks over to
the trashcan to dump something. I confront her.
“So are you coming?”
“Yes.”
I explain that Margot is my ex-girlfriend, but she already
knows that. Margot walks over and offers Ays a strange looking hug and insults
her by calling her Abe Lincoln.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up directly at 11:21 a.m. The back of my throat is a
little itchy and my head is still throbbing. And now I’m gonna be a tad bit
late for work.
A shot of Apple Cider Vinegar. Strawberry Toaster Pastries.
Orange Juice. Ibuprofen. Zinc (50 mg).
All day shift at China Wok.
Anthony had texted me last night while I was at The Wave...
“...lost out here in a thousand loose details and the fog
of a friday night...where the hell is robert and what is he doing and what is
he thinking and who is he really right now in this exact moment in time and
space? ...we need to connect soon. to set our hearts and souls and minds and
everythings right. we need to. soon soon soon.”
I respond back to him now with, “in that exact moment I was
in the middle of a dance frenzy...a time void of escape...in a somewhat strange
world of friendly misfit party people. I was thinking about how free I felt and
how gorgeous this African beauty was and happy that she reciprocated the
attraction. I was who I was which is who I am.”
I add, “in other words I was at the wave.”
Hard Boiled Egg. Five Guys French Fries. Honey Green Tea.
It’s a slow day for deliveries.
Bosc Pear.
Off work and back home.
Hot and Sour Soup with Rice, Broccoli, and Bread.
Watching Battleground (2012).
I hear a bunch of commotion in the hallway. The kids have
schemed to barricade Kevin’s bedroom door with everything they can find while
he’s sleeping. At the top of the twin mattress two bowlfuls of water sit
waiting for an unsuspecting Kevin to get an early morning douse. I live in a
zoo.
[ii]
Margot calls me with a request to give her a ride to her car
because she’s stranded at Poon’s. Earlier in the day we got into quite a bicker
on the phone and I called her a child, multiple times to get the point across.
She doesn’t how to act any other way towards me, even now when we’re not dating
nor seeing each other. Sometimes she gets so bitter I have no choice but to say
it like it really is. So with that in mind I didn’t like the cross feelings so
I take her up on the request. After dropping her off she insists I come over.
...
There. She’s wearing this new pink dress that she takes
pride in.
“Do you like my dress?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She takes it off along with everything else except her
panties. Still fully clothed I join her underneath the soft Hello Kitty
blanket. I’m entrapped now. When her body is presented to me in such a way – or
when I am confined underneath her pressing bosom – I cannot refrain from
surrender. At some point it becomes irresistible. Here’s to another
pick-me-up-ex-girlfriend sex.
...
I wanted to get back home after that but sleepiness
overwhelms me.
High levels of anxiety and stress when I come home and find
somebody pulled a prank and somehow moved my car out of its parking place and
painted nonsensical letters on the windows. I see other miscellaneous things
were taken from inside the house and placed as a barricade by the front door of
my car. How in the world did someone do this? None of it makes any
sense. I barge inside the house and demand that all our party guests leave.
“Alright. Everyone get the fuck out! Now!” I tap everything as I march through.
“Come on! I’m not playing games. Let’s go! Everybody go home!” I find Anthony
and question him, “I suppose you’re just gonna tell me that Richie did it? Who
did it? Tell me!” I’m terribly upset because there’s always something I have to
clean up or repair or re assemble. I’m fed up with it. Anthony is proving
relentlessly unhelpful. Outside some guy that I don’t know who is apparently
friends with an old roommate of mine, Kyle, is pressure washing my car to get
off the graffiti.
▬ ○ ☼
Waking up around 1:30 p.m.
Strawberry Toaster Pastries. Orange Juice.
I get the opportunity to Skype with Aysena for about an
hour. Ahh. I miss her. And I can see the missing in her as well. Both of
us are happy and playful in conversation. Whenever I talk with her it keeps my
heart in check and I attempt to hold onto the clarity of whom my heart is loyal
to. Ever since she left I stayed in contact and we chatted with each other more
frequently than we do now. Over time I have to disbar from it just a little bit
so I can live my life. It’s important to focus on what’s going on here in my
world. But whenever our eyes align through the computer screens it all comes
back...everything that was between us. The future is uncertain...as it always
is. But she’s a beautiful rare jewel, that’s for sure. And I’ll give this a
chance when we have another opportunity.
Grilled Cheese with Tomato and Hummus. Tortilla Chips with
Salsa and Avocado. Raspberry Lemonade.
Watching A Mighty Heart (2007).
Chores.
Learning Russian.
Vegan Pumpkin Muffins. Coffee.
I leave the house alone and trek out to Norfolk to hit up
The Wave. My newly acquainted friend, Octavia, will be there. I tried to get
James Graves to go but he refuses to leave his abode. It’s the opposite of crowded
and the dance floor is bare but that doesn’t stop the rare few who came to
knock off their socks and cut a rug. After a few dollar PBR’s (you can’t beat
that anywhere) I give the floor a go and dance hard. Throughout the evening
Octavia keeps me in sight. It feels like I’m her little sidekick for the
night...taking me by the hand and guiding me through her world – meeting some
of her friends. I already knew Hannah, one of Kristin’s best friends. She was
always very nice to me. A flamboyant gay guy be-friends Octavia and I
separately. On the floor he doesn’t hesitate to approach me and ask, “What are
you on?”
“Uh. I’m not on anything. I’ve only had two beers!”
“You are super hot!” he explains and then persists to bump
and grind on my ass. I don’t know how to react. He seems enthralled with
Octavia just the same.
...
At some point amidst the flashing lights and booming music I
receive a text from Anthony. He’s at home.
“...lost out here in a thousand loose details and the fog
of a friday night...where the hell is robert and what is he doing and what is
he thinking and who is he really right now in this exact moment in time and
space? ...we need to connect soon. to set our hearts and souls and minds and
everythings right. we need to. soon soon soon.”
...
They hit the lights just before 2 a.m. Closing time. Octavia
hops into my car and we head up the street to an apartment near ODU. Parked.
She divulges into a little bit of her family life while I chow down on a plate
of Spaghetti I picked up from Mama Joe’s. She’s a nightlife warrior. It’s her
escape and she revels in the after-midnight madness that takes place on the hip
side of Norfolk. Her friends are her “family”. Even from our last meeting at
Rick’s I could tell there was something genuine about her underneath this
youthful charade.
...
We step inside the apartment. Her brother is here along with
tons of her homies. A beer pong game is in session. I watch as they tactfully
toss the ping-pong balls across the table, sometimes shouting incomprehensible
slang not even I can understand. I venture into the living room. Some white
dude, obviously stoned or maybe drunk, doesn’t stop himself from immediately
engaging in a conversation with me.
He asks, “So what do you do?” or something along those lines.
He mentions my shaggy bed-head and wonders if I’m some
computer programmer, “You must be one of those who’re on the computer all day.”
“Yeah I guess so. I do write a blog.”
We hit it off well. He explains that he just finished the
third stage of the break-up process with his ex-girlfriend and that his main
prerogative tonight is to meet girls. He’s extremely talkative and eager to
forget his worries. This cat isn’t stupid though; he’s got intellect.
Me: “Just be a really nice guy. Girls like that.”
I say my goodbye to Octavia and the other people I just met.
Back home. My head is throbbing. Goodnight. 4:30 a.m.
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