A Good Writer Could Write It Remarkably
Sat., Sept. 9, 1995
Did it three times this morning. Felt fine and chipper. After that we watched X-men cartoons. Shirelle called me a seX-man. Showered. Sang silly on the way to Bob's Big Boy for the all-you-can-eat cholesterolfest breakfast bar. Read the Times.
When we got home I spent a hella time replacing a radiator hose on the pick-up. To begin with, it was down under a tangle of other engine parts, and even afer I removed everything I could that was in the way, I still couldn't get my wrist at an angle that wasn't difficult to get at the clamp which, as it turned out, was rusted shut. I WD-40ed it. That didn't work, so I dug up some wire snips and cut the clamp off. The rubber hose was baked on, and had to be scraped off. Listened to the Beastie Boys while I did it. I was covered with grime by the time I was done; my fingernails are still black.
I mailed a letter to Teddy Carman.
I've been putting off seeing my dad. Awkward and hurtful always somehow. LAPD values. Fuckitol.
Peachtree came over. He has just returned from two and a half months journeying through Turkey, Italy, Austria, Slovenia, Romania, Russia, etc. He didn't say much about it, though. We watched USC demolish San Jose State, UCLA beat BYU, Notre Dame over Purdue, and the Dodgers beat the Pirates. A fine day for sports. Shirelle brought twelve Bud Lights. The Insanity Pepper and Danny came up with a video of knuckleheads who fight in a tournament with no rules except no biting and no eye-gouging. After that, we went to the Wild Goose to watch, uh, the DeLaHoya/Hernandez fight. The Golden Boy won easily. From there we went to a Los Feliz party, which was boring, so we went to the Dresden Room which was also boring. Everywhere we went everyone was just sitting around, so we went to my place, and we just sat around. Peach played guitar. Thing's girlfriend is fine. Blah blah blah. I'm not interested in detailing. Nothing was remarkable. A good writer could write it remarkably. A keen observer would have something to say.
Should I make some spaghetti? I already ate a bowl of Nutty Nuggets, and a few bites of Shrill's Big Mac, and some lasagna, and a couple carrots dipped in peanutbutter.
Lah dee dah. After this I need to turn on the computer and write an official paragraph. I think I'll work on the Tarpits story.
Old Mexican music is playing at the house across the street.~For a second I was in their living room.~ I'm reading The Dead Zone. I enjoy it, even if it's not much of a challenge.
My brother got whacked with a forty.
Babble babble babble. Almost there. Flash. Mtn. party. Tailgate party.
Did it three times this morning. Felt fine and chipper. After that we watched X-men cartoons. Shirelle called me a seX-man. Showered. Sang silly on the way to Bob's Big Boy for the all-you-can-eat cholesterolfest breakfast bar. Read the Times.
When we got home I spent a hella time replacing a radiator hose on the pick-up. To begin with, it was down under a tangle of other engine parts, and even afer I removed everything I could that was in the way, I still couldn't get my wrist at an angle that wasn't difficult to get at the clamp which, as it turned out, was rusted shut. I WD-40ed it. That didn't work, so I dug up some wire snips and cut the clamp off. The rubber hose was baked on, and had to be scraped off. Listened to the Beastie Boys while I did it. I was covered with grime by the time I was done; my fingernails are still black.
I mailed a letter to Teddy Carman.
I've been putting off seeing my dad. Awkward and hurtful always somehow. LAPD values. Fuckitol.
Peachtree came over. He has just returned from two and a half months journeying through Turkey, Italy, Austria, Slovenia, Romania, Russia, etc. He didn't say much about it, though. We watched USC demolish San Jose State, UCLA beat BYU, Notre Dame over Purdue, and the Dodgers beat the Pirates. A fine day for sports. Shirelle brought twelve Bud Lights. The Insanity Pepper and Danny came up with a video of knuckleheads who fight in a tournament with no rules except no biting and no eye-gouging. After that, we went to the Wild Goose to watch, uh, the DeLaHoya/Hernandez fight. The Golden Boy won easily. From there we went to a Los Feliz party, which was boring, so we went to the Dresden Room which was also boring. Everywhere we went everyone was just sitting around, so we went to my place, and we just sat around. Peach played guitar. Thing's girlfriend is fine. Blah blah blah. I'm not interested in detailing. Nothing was remarkable. A good writer could write it remarkably. A keen observer would have something to say.
Should I make some spaghetti? I already ate a bowl of Nutty Nuggets, and a few bites of Shrill's Big Mac, and some lasagna, and a couple carrots dipped in peanutbutter.
Lah dee dah. After this I need to turn on the computer and write an official paragraph. I think I'll work on the Tarpits story.
Old Mexican music is playing at the house across the street.~For a second I was in their living room.~ I'm reading The Dead Zone. I enjoy it, even if it's not much of a challenge.
My brother got whacked with a forty.
Babble babble babble. Almost there. Flash. Mtn. party. Tailgate party.
posted by johnz at 4:18 PM
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