Nothing Here
April Easter Midnight
We went bowling tonight, Thing, Getoff, and I. We were the only white guys there. We couldn't figure out how to operate the computerized scoring. I won the first game
Shirelle stayed in. She's upset about her broken curling iron, and she is in bed now sniffling about being fat.
Mon April 8
Having a hard time with this lately. Its unrealistic to think you'll always be able to just sit down and write and have ideas come out of you that a worth recording. I don't know if I've ever had any. I do it anyway. Maybe my mind's blank from too many drugs and hanging out with illiterates all the time. Nobody I know likes to read. Walter reads all those self-help books and the Thing sticks to screenplays. I should join a book club. Maybe there's one full of hot chicks. I know one in the Valley. Around here, there's no creative drive, no depth of thought--Ugh. Listen to me. How can a dork be so arrogant? Whatever. Shirelle and I drove through amateur hour traffic to my mom's in Orange County. We BBQ'd. My step sister is beginning to show. Kare Bear hid plastic eggs with quarters in them around the yard. I was quiet. My stepfather told me to smile.
My brother, the Thing, Peachtree, and I are going to Opening Day at Dodger Stadium today.
Shirelle's mom and brother visited the other day. I rode my bike to Larchmont to pick up my inhaler, and I sat at a table in front of Louise's and drank iced tea and ate focaccia bread and read over the newspaper.
One day I'll own a Winnebago. Right now, though, I'm about fifteen grand or so in debt.
I really need to get cracking on my novel. I need to fill out the character of Adam Smith or whatever the guy's name is who walked into the room where Jim is. Adam will tell him about going to Utah. I need some illustration for Adam's desire to get out, some low-life thing that makes him want out of California. A 16-year-old on the beach? Fired? Aaron says, Did you hear about Dan?"
We went bowling tonight, Thing, Getoff, and I. We were the only white guys there. We couldn't figure out how to operate the computerized scoring. I won the first game
Shirelle stayed in. She's upset about her broken curling iron, and she is in bed now sniffling about being fat.
Mon April 8
Having a hard time with this lately. Its unrealistic to think you'll always be able to just sit down and write and have ideas come out of you that a worth recording. I don't know if I've ever had any. I do it anyway. Maybe my mind's blank from too many drugs and hanging out with illiterates all the time. Nobody I know likes to read. Walter reads all those self-help books and the Thing sticks to screenplays. I should join a book club. Maybe there's one full of hot chicks. I know one in the Valley. Around here, there's no creative drive, no depth of thought--Ugh. Listen to me. How can a dork be so arrogant? Whatever. Shirelle and I drove through amateur hour traffic to my mom's in Orange County. We BBQ'd. My step sister is beginning to show. Kare Bear hid plastic eggs with quarters in them around the yard. I was quiet. My stepfather told me to smile.
My brother, the Thing, Peachtree, and I are going to Opening Day at Dodger Stadium today.
Shirelle's mom and brother visited the other day. I rode my bike to Larchmont to pick up my inhaler, and I sat at a table in front of Louise's and drank iced tea and ate focaccia bread and read over the newspaper.
One day I'll own a Winnebago. Right now, though, I'm about fifteen grand or so in debt.
I really need to get cracking on my novel. I need to fill out the character of Adam Smith or whatever the guy's name is who walked into the room where Jim is. Adam will tell him about going to Utah. I need some illustration for Adam's desire to get out, some low-life thing that makes him want out of California. A 16-year-old on the beach? Fired? Aaron says, Did you hear about Dan?"
posted by johnz at 1:13 PM
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