Identity Crises Before IHOP
Mon. March 5, 96
Missed another couple of days in this journal. Aggravted lately. Don't know what it is exactly. Don't know what I want, don't want to write. Clearly the words I put down are a shameful.
My old friend Mariachi has been talking for years and years since we were kids about wanting to teach high school history and coach high school baseball, and that's what he does. He coached his first game as varsity head coach the other day. I'm happy for him. He also ran in the LA Marathon yesterday.
I have no such determination nor conviction for anything.
I went to the CSUN baseball game yesterday. The Matadors beat Fresno State 29 to 3 setting an NCAA record for homeruns in a game with 13. I sat in the stands and half watched the game from within my little angst-filled world and spoke not a word. I have no character. Don't know who I am or what I'm supposed to be. I had leadership abilities once upon a time, but I've handed over the reins to drugs and alcohol and the cart has tipped; I don't know where I'm going. I just go to work every day. I don't know if it's the drugs and booze that have made me such a nothing. That might just be what I am, intrisically. What I'm born to be. The old man sensed it.
Pathetic.
Went to one of my kids' softball games cuz I told her I would. Glory, great kid. I felt awkward there, like I didn't belong.
Haven't been reading much.
Things at IHOP on Sunset were weird at 4 AM. All the after hours party people haunting the place were still drunk. I was waiting for my change so I could leave while three gangbang-looking brothers sat, two passed out, heads on the table. One stayed that way even after his food arrived. Two girls walked out and one tapped on the window with his bling ring trying to get the girls' attention, and this smarmy security guard with a wannabe wiseguy complex, straight outta the 50's with a molded rock idol pompadour curl strolled over chewing a toothpick asking the gangbang brother what for he was tapping the glass like that. The brother said he was tapping after the girls and the guard said, "Those girls? You don't want to do that. Those girls were ugly." Two more brothers a booth over began to complain loudly that their food was taking too long and told the waitress she needed to go back to IHOP school. The guard ambled over as the brothers were talking about a heart attack. "What heart attack?" said the guard.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't talking to you," said one of the brothers. The waitress came with the change. Then the passed-out brother came to, stirred, and pointed at the guard's black heeled cowboy boots and started laughing loudly, "Look at the nigga's boots." He howled and howled and I walked out.
Missed another couple of days in this journal. Aggravted lately. Don't know what it is exactly. Don't know what I want, don't want to write. Clearly the words I put down are a shameful.
My old friend Mariachi has been talking for years and years since we were kids about wanting to teach high school history and coach high school baseball, and that's what he does. He coached his first game as varsity head coach the other day. I'm happy for him. He also ran in the LA Marathon yesterday.
I have no such determination nor conviction for anything.
I went to the CSUN baseball game yesterday. The Matadors beat Fresno State 29 to 3 setting an NCAA record for homeruns in a game with 13. I sat in the stands and half watched the game from within my little angst-filled world and spoke not a word. I have no character. Don't know who I am or what I'm supposed to be. I had leadership abilities once upon a time, but I've handed over the reins to drugs and alcohol and the cart has tipped; I don't know where I'm going. I just go to work every day. I don't know if it's the drugs and booze that have made me such a nothing. That might just be what I am, intrisically. What I'm born to be. The old man sensed it.
Pathetic.
Went to one of my kids' softball games cuz I told her I would. Glory, great kid. I felt awkward there, like I didn't belong.
Haven't been reading much.
Things at IHOP on Sunset were weird at 4 AM. All the after hours party people haunting the place were still drunk. I was waiting for my change so I could leave while three gangbang-looking brothers sat, two passed out, heads on the table. One stayed that way even after his food arrived. Two girls walked out and one tapped on the window with his bling ring trying to get the girls' attention, and this smarmy security guard with a wannabe wiseguy complex, straight outta the 50's with a molded rock idol pompadour curl strolled over chewing a toothpick asking the gangbang brother what for he was tapping the glass like that. The brother said he was tapping after the girls and the guard said, "Those girls? You don't want to do that. Those girls were ugly." Two more brothers a booth over began to complain loudly that their food was taking too long and told the waitress she needed to go back to IHOP school. The guard ambled over as the brothers were talking about a heart attack. "What heart attack?" said the guard.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't talking to you," said one of the brothers. The waitress came with the change. Then the passed-out brother came to, stirred, and pointed at the guard's black heeled cowboy boots and started laughing loudly, "Look at the nigga's boots." He howled and howled and I walked out.
posted by johnz at 12:20 PM
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