I'm So Not Cool
Sat August 10
Hey, this is a new pencil. It's an EF Eberhard Faber American 2 HB. My mother just called. The power is out at her house. Apparently, it is so throughout much of the Western U.S. My mom was excited and worried about the power outage. It reminded her of one Back East in '65. Isn't that amazing, that primal elation we feel when we lose our electricity? It throws us back to the dark ages, freeing us from our modern schedules.
Things flying through your head: words, pictures, voices, ideas; concepts, but then they go away. What is that? Just random static. I spent $228.00 at the Virgin Megastore yesterday. The LucasArts MacIntosh Archives VOL. 1 CDROM set, yeah, and a buncha other shit, why bother listing it all? I'm listening to the "Dead Man Walking" soundtrack. I smoke pot from the guitar fiend bong.
I drew a picture of it: A little ceramic demon water pipe with its tongue hanging out, playing a guitar with its claws, the guitar is a pipe.
Carlos just showed up. He and Thing and I are supposed to be going down to Manhattan Beach. Shirelle called and said that she heard on the news that the National Guard was being call out and the public was being advised to stay in. I haven't had three pages worth of crap to say for quite a while. Harry Youtt's daughter sat next to me in the upper left corner by the door and said some nice things to me at the break about the paragraph I wrote about the boy skipping naked through the park.
One of the CDROMs I got is "Starry Night" with text and images from Van Gogh's paintings and letters. I've started reading The Lady in the Lake by Raymond Chandler. Yesterday, Mariachi and Un Real, and Gracias picked me up after school in Pacoima, and we stopped in Burbank to see "Escape From LA". It was hokey fun, dumb and clever. Out at the car after the movie, Mariachi opened the door and pulled the seat forward and motioned me to get in back. "I don't fit back there, I know from riding up, why don't you get in the back?" "C'mon, Zurn, quit fucking around. Get in." Gracias was walking around the parking garage trying to get better reception on his phone. "I rode back there on the way here. I don't fit. You're shorter than I am. Besides the first person to get to the car door should save everybody's time and climb in back instead of waiting there like a short little 5' 9" fuck and get in the back seat!" If only you knew Mariachi. He wouldn't budge. I said," Fuck it. I'll take a taxi." I walked off, downstairs, dickhead calling after.
Hey, this is a new pencil. It's an EF Eberhard Faber American 2 HB. My mother just called. The power is out at her house. Apparently, it is so throughout much of the Western U.S. My mom was excited and worried about the power outage. It reminded her of one Back East in '65. Isn't that amazing, that primal elation we feel when we lose our electricity? It throws us back to the dark ages, freeing us from our modern schedules.
Things flying through your head: words, pictures, voices, ideas; concepts, but then they go away. What is that? Just random static. I spent $228.00 at the Virgin Megastore yesterday. The LucasArts MacIntosh Archives VOL. 1 CDROM set, yeah, and a buncha other shit, why bother listing it all? I'm listening to the "Dead Man Walking" soundtrack. I smoke pot from the guitar fiend bong.
I drew a picture of it: A little ceramic demon water pipe with its tongue hanging out, playing a guitar with its claws, the guitar is a pipe.
Carlos just showed up. He and Thing and I are supposed to be going down to Manhattan Beach. Shirelle called and said that she heard on the news that the National Guard was being call out and the public was being advised to stay in. I haven't had three pages worth of crap to say for quite a while. Harry Youtt's daughter sat next to me in the upper left corner by the door and said some nice things to me at the break about the paragraph I wrote about the boy skipping naked through the park.
One of the CDROMs I got is "Starry Night" with text and images from Van Gogh's paintings and letters. I've started reading The Lady in the Lake by Raymond Chandler. Yesterday, Mariachi and Un Real, and Gracias picked me up after school in Pacoima, and we stopped in Burbank to see "Escape From LA". It was hokey fun, dumb and clever. Out at the car after the movie, Mariachi opened the door and pulled the seat forward and motioned me to get in back. "I don't fit back there, I know from riding up, why don't you get in the back?" "C'mon, Zurn, quit fucking around. Get in." Gracias was walking around the parking garage trying to get better reception on his phone. "I rode back there on the way here. I don't fit. You're shorter than I am. Besides the first person to get to the car door should save everybody's time and climb in back instead of waiting there like a short little 5' 9" fuck and get in the back seat!" If only you knew Mariachi. He wouldn't budge. I said," Fuck it. I'll take a taxi." I walked off, downstairs, dickhead calling after.
posted by johnz at 8:32 PM
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