Angels Flying Over Your Shoulder
Tuesday October 22
The mornings are chilly and dry this week. I wore a flannel shirt and corduroy blazer this morning. Picture that. A-bomb clouds from the latest Malibu wildfire puffed up opposite the sun as I crossed the Valley this morning. Have I got a lot on my mind today. My radiator cracked. I took it to Koretnyko Vladimir's body shop and repair because he did a good job with it last time even though it may be cheaper to go to a radiator shop. He explained that he was just going to take it out and bring it to a radiator shop. Fifty bucks it'll cost. I'm an idiot. I don't trust myself to do it. Victor quoted me a guy in Pacoima who could do it for thirty, but that's thirty miles away. It would overheat twice on the way. I just want the problem taken care of. I had a feeling you could trust Koretnyko Vladimir so I paid him twenty extra. God, am I an idiot. I'm not sure how I'll get to work tomorrow. Today Chirelle let me take her dad's Mustang. I almost hit a kid right in front of school who had darted out between two parked cars.
My brother just called. Five Olympic volleyball players OD'd on GHB at his party and had to be put on respirators at the hospital-- Something around here keeps beeping. The Yankees are beating the Braves so far two to nothing in the sixth inning of game 3 of the World Series. Atlanta had dominated the Yanks til now, outscoring them sixteen zip.
Shirelle is driving high a few blocks to Christina's to share what part of her joint she hasn't smoked yet. I said, "Be careful." She said, "Oh, I'm only going a few blocks." I said, "Oh, and nothing could go wrong between here and there?" She said, "God, why do you have to be so negative? Why can't you believe in angels flying over your shoulder looking out for you?" I threw down my pen. She said, "You don't have to get mad."
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Packing books. Remove tomes from the shelf, hefting the little story of the procurement of each one. Walden Books in the La Brea Mall, B. Dalton Booksellers in the La Puente Mall, Little Professor Books in Placentia, to which I would walk from my mom's place as a kid, Crown, Rizzoli's in Century City, Brentano's at South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, Barnes and Noble in New York City where Lisa Yamada worked, Book Star at the Beverly Connection, the UCI bookstore, the UCLA bookstores at Luvalle Commons and Ackerman Plaza, The Paperbacker, Pasadena, Hollywood, Vancouver, Old Town San Diego, my dad's shelf, Marietti's shelf, Grandpa's paper bags full, La Puente High, Los Altos High, Sharp El, Lora Collins--a lot of them were stolen.
I read three pages of Jim Crack to my novel class last night. I got a favorable reaction, I thought. Now I have to do five first lines and a two to three pages tying in disparate images, one culled from a photo. There's a short story to read by an author I never heard of.
The mornings are chilly and dry this week. I wore a flannel shirt and corduroy blazer this morning. Picture that. A-bomb clouds from the latest Malibu wildfire puffed up opposite the sun as I crossed the Valley this morning. Have I got a lot on my mind today. My radiator cracked. I took it to Koretnyko Vladimir's body shop and repair because he did a good job with it last time even though it may be cheaper to go to a radiator shop. He explained that he was just going to take it out and bring it to a radiator shop. Fifty bucks it'll cost. I'm an idiot. I don't trust myself to do it. Victor quoted me a guy in Pacoima who could do it for thirty, but that's thirty miles away. It would overheat twice on the way. I just want the problem taken care of. I had a feeling you could trust Koretnyko Vladimir so I paid him twenty extra. God, am I an idiot. I'm not sure how I'll get to work tomorrow. Today Chirelle let me take her dad's Mustang. I almost hit a kid right in front of school who had darted out between two parked cars.
My brother just called. Five Olympic volleyball players OD'd on GHB at his party and had to be put on respirators at the hospital-- Something around here keeps beeping. The Yankees are beating the Braves so far two to nothing in the sixth inning of game 3 of the World Series. Atlanta had dominated the Yanks til now, outscoring them sixteen zip.
Shirelle is driving high a few blocks to Christina's to share what part of her joint she hasn't smoked yet. I said, "Be careful." She said, "Oh, I'm only going a few blocks." I said, "Oh, and nothing could go wrong between here and there?" She said, "God, why do you have to be so negative? Why can't you believe in angels flying over your shoulder looking out for you?" I threw down my pen. She said, "You don't have to get mad."
-
Packing books. Remove tomes from the shelf, hefting the little story of the procurement of each one. Walden Books in the La Brea Mall, B. Dalton Booksellers in the La Puente Mall, Little Professor Books in Placentia, to which I would walk from my mom's place as a kid, Crown, Rizzoli's in Century City, Brentano's at South Coast Plaza in Costa Mesa, Barnes and Noble in New York City where Lisa Yamada worked, Book Star at the Beverly Connection, the UCI bookstore, the UCLA bookstores at Luvalle Commons and Ackerman Plaza, The Paperbacker, Pasadena, Hollywood, Vancouver, Old Town San Diego, my dad's shelf, Marietti's shelf, Grandpa's paper bags full, La Puente High, Los Altos High, Sharp El, Lora Collins--a lot of them were stolen.
I read three pages of Jim Crack to my novel class last night. I got a favorable reaction, I thought. Now I have to do five first lines and a two to three pages tying in disparate images, one culled from a photo. There's a short story to read by an author I never heard of.
posted by johnz at 8:05 PM
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