Gave Up on Giving Up
Fri Sept 20
"It's just a picture of Derb. What do you want it for?" I guess the Gip doesn't see the rainbow diamonds circling derb out there nor the cacti glow golden behind him.
Mon. Sept 23
so fuckin wot ya no
Spent the weekend in Fullerton at my mom's. Gip and I drove out there Friday. First he needed to stop at his parents' house to get a clean shirt. His mom put out placemats in front of us at the table and insisted we have omelets and black beans and warm tortillas. The Dodger game, which I had hoped to watch at the Alligator Lounge where Kirsten works, came on while we sat there. The the Pepper refused to follow my directions to Orange County, and we sat in traffic on the Five well into the late innings, and I never did talk to Kirsten. Fuckin Gip. We waited at my mom's for my sister to come home. Then we went to the Lava Room in Costa Mesa for Stevo's birthday. Greg Johnson's band Lidsville played. Rawler and I won a few pool games. A girl named Dolores with an eye-grabbing chest ended our streak. I blabbed buzzedly to Wilbur about my life. I told the interlinked credit card scandal/dui arrest story and of the camping trip culminating in the drunken stunt fight between my brother and me in the parking lot of the Whiskey Creek Saloon in Mammoth. I didn't buy any beer, but I drank three I think Gip and Jen bought. I said, "I gave up giving up drinking because nobody likes me sober."
As we were leaving the Pepper's parents' house, I excused myself to the bathroom where I unfolded the bill with the pulverized ephedrine tablets, and I rolled up another bill and snorted up both nostrils, stinging, burning my eyes turned instantly red and watered. I walked out mumbling something about soap in my eyes, and was already paranoid enough to think Mr. Martinez knew I snorted in there. I sneezed and blew snot all night after that.
The girl whose heart was in the right side of her chest.
"It's just a picture of Derb. What do you want it for?" I guess the Gip doesn't see the rainbow diamonds circling derb out there nor the cacti glow golden behind him.
Mon. Sept 23
so fuckin wot ya no
Spent the weekend in Fullerton at my mom's. Gip and I drove out there Friday. First he needed to stop at his parents' house to get a clean shirt. His mom put out placemats in front of us at the table and insisted we have omelets and black beans and warm tortillas. The Dodger game, which I had hoped to watch at the Alligator Lounge where Kirsten works, came on while we sat there. The the Pepper refused to follow my directions to Orange County, and we sat in traffic on the Five well into the late innings, and I never did talk to Kirsten. Fuckin Gip. We waited at my mom's for my sister to come home. Then we went to the Lava Room in Costa Mesa for Stevo's birthday. Greg Johnson's band Lidsville played. Rawler and I won a few pool games. A girl named Dolores with an eye-grabbing chest ended our streak. I blabbed buzzedly to Wilbur about my life. I told the interlinked credit card scandal/dui arrest story and of the camping trip culminating in the drunken stunt fight between my brother and me in the parking lot of the Whiskey Creek Saloon in Mammoth. I didn't buy any beer, but I drank three I think Gip and Jen bought. I said, "I gave up giving up drinking because nobody likes me sober."
As we were leaving the Pepper's parents' house, I excused myself to the bathroom where I unfolded the bill with the pulverized ephedrine tablets, and I rolled up another bill and snorted up both nostrils, stinging, burning my eyes turned instantly red and watered. I walked out mumbling something about soap in my eyes, and was already paranoid enough to think Mr. Martinez knew I snorted in there. I sneezed and blew snot all night after that.
The girl whose heart was in the right side of her chest.
posted by johnz at 8:57 AM
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