Day 94 (Barbara, Santa)

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Today was kind of a boring day. I kind of lounged around and didn’t accomplish much. Sometimes it’s necessary to have a down day, but I get really antsy when I don’t feel like I’m doing anything. I tried to watch television, but it began to assassinate my imagination. I accepted this fate and watched a reality show about people mining gold. An hour later I watched a show about people making fun of the show I just watched. That was it. I had to do something or I was going to go insane. So I looked back into my journal and picked another random day to write about. I landed on Day 94. Here it is:

I woke up next to a girl in a bed. That beats out waking up alone in a hammock. While both are disorienting at first, one is much warmer. We stayed in bed, cuddled, smooched, and talked about the finer things like music, weed, and growing up in New Jersey. She went to Santa Barbara City College and studied history (I think. I wasn’t really paying attention to that stuff. Yeah I know, I’m an asshole). I stood in her kitchen eating almonds while I watched her scramble for work. I could have helped her look for her keys, but a part of me took pleasure in watching her frantically search for them. Total dick move on my part. I wished we could have spent more time together, but that’s the way she goes. As I left her apartment, my urge to shit was at threat level 8. I didn’t want to go in her house, because I knew this was going to be a Hiroshima scaled deuce. I needed to find a bathroom fast. I ran across the street to campus and tried a bunch of doors. All locked. Threat level 9. I looked over at a densely wooded garden. Dare I? Yeah, this is going to happen. As I started turtle walking toward the azaleas, someone opened a door and I rushed in. I’ll leave out the ensuing details but no words could describe the damage I did to that Santa Barbara CC bathroom.

As I took the long trek back to Cindy’s house (the lady we were couch surfing with) I ran into Jorge, who was leaving for Ojai. Yaris and I met Jorge the night before at a campground and we cycled together to SB. He had planned to only spend one night at Cindy’s and then leave the next morning. We said our goodbyes and I reflected a bit on the short but memorable times we shared together over the past 36 hours. From getting into shouting matches with homeless people in front a Ralph’s to watching him try to help Yaris correctly pronounce his name..Hor-Hay. Once I got to Cindy’s house, she suggested we go to a block party to which Yaris and I wholeheartedly agreed. We picked up her friend Deena who is a single mom of three and reminds me very much of myself (both the good and the bad). *When I was typing this I was trying to think of the characteristics I was referring to when I wrote this, but kept drawing blanks. Sorry* Once we got to the block party, it appeared to be dwindling down, so we went to a wine bar instead. Because of last night’s alcohol infused debacle, I decided it’d be best to refrain from partaking. I was overcome with some introspective feelings as I was surrounded by people drinking and having absolutely no desire to partake. It was quite refreshing. The way we were sitting, it kind of felt like the four of us were on a double date. Yaris was paired with Cindy, and I with Deena. I enjoyed talking to her though. She reminds me a lot of a typical Jersey mom, combining the erogenous assertiveness I’m so deeply attracted to with that difficult prissiness I am also oddly attracted to. I’ve come to find most women on the coast here fall victim to that ‘floaty, hippy, anything goes attitude’ so it was energizing conversing with a real woman. I’ve almost begun to forget how different people are on the opposing coasts. Eh, that’s not really true. People are people no matter where you go. If you’re nice, you’re nice. If you’re a dick, you’re a dick. I should stop categorizing people by their geographic location. That’s a bad habit.

We all had a good time, and Yaris and I had an even better time after Cindy gave us each massages in the parking lot. It’s important to note that it was a strictly nonsexual massage. Bullshit, there is no such thing as a nonsexual massage. Thanks Cindy, now I get the pleasure of trying to hid a half boner for the next ten minutes.

This journal is being overrun by my discussions of women. I haven’t really talked about bicycles in a while. Bikes and babes, bro. Ugh, I can’t believe I just wrote that. *Ugh I can’t believe I just typed that*.

Anyway, from there we went to Trader Joes and the four of us made a delicious cheese plate. I have this problem where I’ve grown increasingly unable to control myself around cheese plates, so I ate until the point of food coma. Then I hung out with Cindy’s cat while I contemplated my life decisions that led me to petting a cat in the house of a woman I barely know in Santa Barbara. Nothing else interesting really happened for the rest of the night so I’m just going to stop writing now.


Alright well that was Day 94. Oh boy, I’m kind of an asshole.


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