SKILL 01: LIVING IN THE PRESENT

I heard the “Grinder” app chime, the day I reconnected with you, from months of this “shelter in place.” It happened while being intimate with you. I opened my eyes to catch a glance at you. You were looking at my newly buzzed hair and then into my eyes. “What are you looking at?” I asked from a self-con- scious place. The look on your face was very analytical. A shiver ran through my being as I looked straight into the black of your eyes. You gently said, “I am just taking you in.” I felt so present, so handsome and free.

I was grabbing a jug of Minute Maid Fruit Punch. Prior to the store visit, we had a little chit chat, like we always do, about our favorite beverage. I felt the cool temperature of the container: cold, crisp, and heavy. I held it in my hand and smiled at Rob, my roommate, who sweetly smiled back. I saw him. I thought to myself, There he is, my roommate, my new friend who gave me a chance. I love hearing about his life. When he explains things, I feel like I get a glimpse into another person’s worldview, his being very developed. I respect this beautiful man. I know one day I will count him as family. Love you, Robert Christensen.

As I scroll through the posts of family and friends, a thought occurs to me: some of these people I know deep inside, I will never see in person again. What a way for my mortality to express itself. Then a sudden sense of nostalgia hits hard. The tingle in my chest. The back of my throat tightens. I then stare off into an imaginary distance, as I try to remember the last time I’ve seen you.

I walk down the street onward to work, blasting in my headphones an EDM mix of Happy Hard Core into my skull. What a stupid music this is. Yet, I bob my head in time. The sun is shining, I feel like dancing. During my early teen- age years, this genre of music was, and still is, my favorite!! It sounds like LSD to me, I love it.

It’s a bad day, it’s a good day. Tears running down my face; a smile that I can- not hide. You, on the other end of the phone line, are encouraging and ever sweet. Loyal, strong and brave. You are a queen I want to worship. I would give you the world if I could. So here I am. You gave me love and respect when I had no one. SHE has many names of one spirit.

I was grabbing a jug of Minute Maid Fruit Punch. Prior to the store visit, we had a little chit chat, like we always do, about our favorite beverage. I felt the cool temperature of the container: cold, crisp, and heavy. I held it in my hand and smiled at Rob, my roommate, who sweetly smiled back. I saw him. I thought to myself, There he is, my roommate, my new friend who gave me a chance. I love hearing about his life. When he explains things, I feel like I get a glimpse into another person’s worldview, his being very developed. I respect this beautiful man. I know one day I will count him as family. Love you, Robert Christensen.

It’s the outline of you. It takes up space. I stare and imagine what it would feel like to touch you everywhere. I see you, so sexy, so tall and handsome. If we could ever cross the line, I know that every aspect of your truth, your confi- dence, would feel so fucking good, all over my body. Every seven seconds, I have no control of the organ. You were my first-grade teacher’s husband. I know then and I know now.

It’s the odor, not so much an aroma. Coffee stinks and tastes like shit. I never understood a person who finds taste in this nasty drink. Alcohol is very much the same, all of it tastes like crap. But the feeling is addictive, like coffee, as I drink the black hot juices of a bean. I could feel a “crossover” happen. My spine raises, my speech a little crisper and more pronounced. A surge and a rush of its own. Oh caffeine, I love you. Then a secure, clear moment in thought, focused and ready to live the day onward.

Betrayal will make you feel alive and ever present in the moment. A few so-called women had that effect on me. So funny, these cunts, who religiously abide by N.A., leave a rotten taste in the mouth. They are self-redeeming idea beat mothers. Some of them didn’t bother recovering their fashion sense either. Two faced, lying, fraternizing sluts. Preaching to me about honesty. Anger is not an emotion to ignore as my body goes into optimum prime, with stealth and strength. I cut you out of my life… BITCH! Heart, heart, heart, heart.

My sisters Rachel, Vanessa and Regina. My grandmother “Tweet,” so far away from home. Separated by shelter in place. I am sick with fury and frustration. My cousin Danielle and her babies, Davina and Anna. My niece Miranda, who doesn’t even know me… the hurt I hold in my heart every minute I am away from you. I gain some comfort knowing our blood is the same. Beating on and on. From the other side I feel you Mother, my angel, my life, my giver of life. I long to hear your voice in the dark hour. Aunt Mary, I hear your prayer, ever so dear.