Waking up to Angelo’s overly-loud alarm, a default ring tone, I said: “Wow what a cool jam, where did you find this?” “Youtube, I get all my new music from Youtube then release it straight to cassette.” I am still laughing. I am still sleeping.
Samantha and I are becoming closer friends, she rubs on my legs and rolls over on her back. She sleeps on my feet. People ask Angelo who Samantha is, because he has a heavy gothic tattoo of her name on his forearm.
Jay, Angelo and I listened to records upstairs. Minimal Italian techno which I made fun of for being “equestrian.” Jay referenced the dream I had where fire fell from the sky. I remembered my dream from the morning and laughed because it was so stereotypical of me: there were rows of metal boxes, coffin sized, arranged in an expansive grid. Naturally we were to be separated into these boxes and would die there, and of course it was calculated genocide.
We all laughed.
Angeo’s crystals holding the curtain, white on white. Our foreheads touched, we held hands quietly, I gently wove my knees into his. He fell asleep and jolted awake.
This morning Angelo got up after 3 alarms. He accidentally tried to put on my shoes. I stayed in bed with Samantha and dreamed about a restaurant.
John was reading a book of poetry and eating Apple Jacks, or off-brand Apple Jacks when I got up. I drank a wine glass of tap water and left for work.