[i]
☼▬
It’s understood to be the near future or present day. I just finished playing a gig at London Bridge Baptist Church. In waking life it’s been many years since I’ve been inside this place. My keyboard rig is set up in the gym. I break everything down as much I can until I have to go get my car. Outside the gym in the foyer or what feels like a big intersection walkway for a mall. People are all over the place like it’s a big part of the city. I keep looking for people I think I know. While backing the car up to the curb I notice I’m getting in the way of a big semi truck – it looks all futuristic. The driver yells out to me but I can’t decipher the words, something along the lines of I’m in her way. Eventually, security guards or church faculty escort me around the building to take me back to the gym. We walk through the side door and I discover some kind of girls gathering in what’s understood to be the president’s room – there are regal pictures of past presidents on the wall – a tall teenage girl walks briskly by with nothing but a white blouse and underwear on. The guys escorting me direct me through a set of double doors. It’s the second or third floor and we have to strategically step down the balcony using parkour moves. Eventually, I make it to the bottom floor. They’re having some sort of youth group meeting where they talk about how to identify different types of music. Meanwhile, I’m struggling to find my keyboard rig. I explore every corner of the gym – there’s so much stuff in here. The whole situation is becoming stressful. My car is still parked far away. What’s the point?
▬☼
Waking up at 11:45 a.m. Sleeping in nice and late.
Oatmeal with Cinnamon, Strawberries, Maple Syrup, and Almond Milk. English Breakfast Tea.
Vacuuming and chores.
Watermelon.
Taking a little trip with Ana and mom to the Gateaux Bakery near Shore Drive and Independence. Inside, a cheery young man with a flamboyant personality takes care of us while pop country plays on the radio. Not what I expected to hear at a French style bakery. But the French Baguette, Tomato Pie, and sweet pastries speak for themselves. Meanwhile, Ana isn’t feeling right emotionally. She had to work an early morning shift at 5:30 a.m. and is all out of sorts. She waits in the car while mom and I enjoy our treats.
Back home. Napping.
Revamping the way I conduct expenses for the house – using some Excel spreadsheets.
I fix up Ana’s bike while mom makes dinner in the kitchen and Ana tinkers on the piano.
Vegan Dogs with Roasted Green Beans and Potatoes.
It’s July 4th and we didn’t make an attempt to see the fireworks. But Ana and I take a bike ride to the oceanfront anyways braving the congested roads of all the people waiting to leave. We make it to Zack’s house in Shadowlawn for a little hang.
I hang out in Ana’s room trying to show her some YouTube channel I discovered where you send in real life creepy/scary stories to this guy and he animates it into a short. She acts disinterested sitting there with her sketch book. Honestly, she’s just not into scary things or thrillers. But somehow this turns into a trigger for an existential/relationship crisis on her part. Her attitude causes me to simply leave and head out to the studio.
...
She eventually ends up there after texting me a bunch of stuff. We talk it out.
Sleep 4 a.m.
[i] Image by me.
No comments:
Post a Comment