I had this dream last night that my friend Zach and I went on a double date. His companion was this ginger guy with a striking, untroubled face and a twunk-y body. Afterwards, we all took a car and got on separate trains home. I transferred at an nondescript station and somewhere down the line, I picked up an action figure - a merman Ken doll that when you bent the limbs into a 90-degree angle something popped out of its butt. When I got home, it was an apartment that Zach and I shared - we were roommates and he was in the kitchen with the ginger guy - now naked, wearing a towel. Upon greeting them, I gave the ginger twunk an awkward peck on the cheek. He just watched me and Zach interact with sleepy lidded eyes and a subtle smirk. They joked about having sex in my room which did not amuse me.
Even during the dream, I thought the ginger guy looked familiar, a feeling that continued after I woke up at 3:45 AM, but I could never place him. I went to bed at 8:30 PM last night, which explains my wake up time. I got up. Made some coffee. Watched some Youtube videos - Bradley Cooper being interviewed in French, Naomi Campbell being shady on WWHL, Jon Hamm writing New Yorker captions - I record this for my IG story. Remind myself that I want to be productive and then procrastinate by reorganizing my task list.
At 7-ish, I begin to dress while watching Empire Records. I marvel in its 90’s trendiness, its hipster whiteness, its diversified teenage angst and its moving picture perfect set. I’ve always wanted to work at Empire Records. I leave the house around 7:45, take the subway, listening to Peace Bisquit’s Summer of Ratchet playlist for the fiftieth time. Still good. Get to work at 8:15. The Fresh Direct guy is already at our door, I comment cheerfully that he’s early, he tells me - defensively - “Yes. It’s eight o’ clock.” It puts me on edge, but I try to be as gracious as possible. When he’s done he tells me: “Now you’ve got it out of the way” but in a pushy way. “We really appreciate that.” I say with intent. Just let it go.
I receive an invoice from the hardware store. Again. The same one they sent me yesterday. One charge from September and two from July. The totals on these are so low that I figure it might be easier to put my AMEX on the account. I call them. Get transferred. “Hi, I’m calling about my invoice” - “I JUST SENT it to you” the woman says back to me sharply. “Yes. I know”, I exhale. empty silence. And then I continue.
There’s a freelancer in my office named Ash. He’s hot in that unaffected straight guy way with a bulky body that he keeps covered up in oversized clothing. He’s not super jacked or crazy cut, but buff like an athlete in the off-season. His card key stopped working so the receptionist sends him to me. He approaches, extends his hand, deliberately pushing his arm out from the elbow, fingers extended out straight, spaced as far apart from each other as possible. After he walks away, I watch him make an expresso. Just living his buff-Ash-oversized-clothing life, breathing oxygen and watching the espresso pour from the gasket. He looks around the kitchen for milk. Answers his phone for a second. Continues making his coffee and walks up the stairs out of sight. “I wonder what it’s like to be him?” I wonder this sort of thing a lot. If you were dropped in a different body, experienced a different life… I imagine him fucking a girl. I imagine he’s fucked a lot of women and how that effects his personality. Maybe I’m projecting…
I received permission to move a phone booth that the company purchased to the basement, I hired a Taskrabbit for an hour to help our facilities guy carry it down the stairs. We underestimate the weight, the size of the stairwell, the amount of people needed and 3 hours later, the phone booth is in the basement as desired, but we had to destroy the stairwell in the process. It takes a lot of me emotionally, but I’m relieved it’s over. The whining from Mr. Facilities afterwards drains any remaining good spirits from my soul. I give up on my day.
I have Dungeons & Dragons in the evening. I’ve had a series of shitty rolls over my last few games and this game was no exception - it didn’t land a single hit or save. Beforehand, I was instructed to be more of “a tank” and then felt like when i played to my combat, everything was designed against it. And then at the end, i was able to get a powerful weapon designed for me because someone else knocked it out of the monsters hand. It felt very unearned.
On my way home, I call my Mother. We talk about an upcoming family wedding.