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Cooking dreams. Preparing food for a family Christmas feast. It feels like we're living underwater in an abandoned city.
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Waking up at about 12:30 p.m.
I remember while I was high last night that I promised myself to make pancakes in the morning. So I look up a recipe and fix it up in the kitchen – everything from scratch, syrup and all. Sharing the final product with Josh, Darren, and Ana.
Whole Wheat Oatmeal Pancakes with Peanut Butter and Syrup. Orange Grapefruit Juice.
In general, I feel pressed for time. There's just never enough time for me in the day to complete the tasks I want to accomplish.
I run to a few stores for groceries.
Then, to the Rec Center for basketball. I need this workout before I start China Wok for three days in a row.
At the house I gather all the children (Darren, Josh, Sasha, and James) into the wagon and drive out to Norfolk for Emily's annual Christmas gathering. It's an ugly sweater party. There's good cheer and drinks to be had. Ana looks cute in her felt cat sweater and her ribbon bun hair and tube socks. Ambrotious is running around biting any flesh he can find. He doesn't seem to recognize who I am. After all those years living with him at 1623 you'd think he'd show a little respect but none is given. There're tons of people packed into this little studio apartment. It's stuffy and my nose is getting irritated.
Afterwards, we all reconvene at Rick's Café, the mostly Virginia Beach lot of us. Ana orders chocolate chip pancakes (even though we already ate pancakes this afternoon) along with broccoli. I give her a hard time for it. The conversation is engaging even though I feel a strong magnet towards the house. That's where I'd like to be.
Back at the house, after opening the door and answering a question of Don's, Kevin, being his belligerent drunk self, tries to stop me from closing the door on him with intention of marching into my room and demanding a hug. At the moment I just didn't have the tolerance and wanted to be alone. With intensity I push the door hard and accidentally slam the door on his hand. There's blood and a big gash on his middle finger. I feel terrible. Even though it was unintentional I could've lightened up and just accepted a surprise hug from my friend/roommate. The rest of the Rick's crew arrives home and we have to explain the tragic story. I don’t think it's his bow hand though so he'll still be able to play violin.
Ana spends the night. Before drifting off to sleep at 3:30 a.m. I softly deny her touch down below. I'm beat. I'm tired. I feel drained. And whenever I feel spread thin I barely have any sexual energy. I feel bad because she deserves it. She deserves my love and I deserve hers. And she looks super cute and sexy today in her outfit.
[i] Most images by me, some by Stephanie.
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