Hollywood and Vine
Wed. 10-8-96
A new book. I'm writing this on my knee in the lobby of the godamn alcohol school where the fat black women who are the school clerks that I am waiting to process me move occasionally, if only to ward of the onslaught of cobwebs. The appointment was for 4:00. It's 4:01 now, you just know these fuckers will leave me waiting here for a while. I'm missing Game One for the American League Pennant, which the Orioles were winning four to two at Yankee Stadium at the seventh inning stretch.
SeedyO and I are at Jack's Sugar Shack on Hollywood and Vine. It is John Lennon's birthday. Candles flickered and smoked on his star on the sidewalk, and some kind of a little Beatlesfest is going on here. Jeff has met a virtual friend in the flesh for the first time here tonight. A band called Chewy Marble is playing after the Beatles tribute is over. Seedy said the girls at the next table were asking about eligible bachelors, and another girl said there were a couple at the pool table which was where I was playing pool at the time. He indicated the girls with his elbow, but I didn't want to look conspicuous, so I didn't look. Yauh. Why do all my first pages suck? What if I rip them out? Hmm. The second pages always suck, too. If I rip them out and the third pages suck, too...Would the spine bleed? Fuggit. I feel uneasy without a beer. Seed thinks it strange that he sees two guys here that he saw at the Beach Boys show at Largo last week. There's a guy here who looks like George Harrison. I wonder. Chewy Marble plays simple pop. That's okay. The vice presidential debate was on TV tonight. Gore and Kemp. Totally boring. I read the first chapter of The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne for my Intro to the First Novel class. I finished all the homework today for tomorrow's class. A story about myself which is true and one which is false, plus five first lines. SeedyO said the first lines were "baroque". I wonder if he means "wordy". Do they set the stage. I think yes. An old lady who calls herself Duffy proudly displays pictures of herself with the Richard Gere, Harrison Ford, and the Dalai Lama. "I could see the Lama's aura and feel his benevolence," she said.
I liked the old Jacks on Pico way better. They finally got pool tables in here now, though. I won the first game I played but lost the second. I beat a long-haired dork wearing gloves and sunglasses while he shot pool in his leather boots and thought he had some kind of Eddie Vedder mystique, but I scratched the eight ball against a dude spitting tobacco drool into a plastic cup that he placed on the edge of the pool table when he shot. I asked him if he ever spilled any on the felt, and he said, "Not yet."
A new book. I'm writing this on my knee in the lobby of the godamn alcohol school where the fat black women who are the school clerks that I am waiting to process me move occasionally, if only to ward of the onslaught of cobwebs. The appointment was for 4:00. It's 4:01 now, you just know these fuckers will leave me waiting here for a while. I'm missing Game One for the American League Pennant, which the Orioles were winning four to two at Yankee Stadium at the seventh inning stretch.
SeedyO and I are at Jack's Sugar Shack on Hollywood and Vine. It is John Lennon's birthday. Candles flickered and smoked on his star on the sidewalk, and some kind of a little Beatlesfest is going on here. Jeff has met a virtual friend in the flesh for the first time here tonight. A band called Chewy Marble is playing after the Beatles tribute is over. Seedy said the girls at the next table were asking about eligible bachelors, and another girl said there were a couple at the pool table which was where I was playing pool at the time. He indicated the girls with his elbow, but I didn't want to look conspicuous, so I didn't look. Yauh. Why do all my first pages suck? What if I rip them out? Hmm. The second pages always suck, too. If I rip them out and the third pages suck, too...Would the spine bleed? Fuggit. I feel uneasy without a beer. Seed thinks it strange that he sees two guys here that he saw at the Beach Boys show at Largo last week. There's a guy here who looks like George Harrison. I wonder. Chewy Marble plays simple pop. That's okay. The vice presidential debate was on TV tonight. Gore and Kemp. Totally boring. I read the first chapter of The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne for my Intro to the First Novel class. I finished all the homework today for tomorrow's class. A story about myself which is true and one which is false, plus five first lines. SeedyO said the first lines were "baroque". I wonder if he means "wordy". Do they set the stage. I think yes. An old lady who calls herself Duffy proudly displays pictures of herself with the Richard Gere, Harrison Ford, and the Dalai Lama. "I could see the Lama's aura and feel his benevolence," she said.
I liked the old Jacks on Pico way better. They finally got pool tables in here now, though. I won the first game I played but lost the second. I beat a long-haired dork wearing gloves and sunglasses while he shot pool in his leather boots and thought he had some kind of Eddie Vedder mystique, but I scratched the eight ball against a dude spitting tobacco drool into a plastic cup that he placed on the edge of the pool table when he shot. I asked him if he ever spilled any on the felt, and he said, "Not yet."
posted by johnz at 6:56 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home