Just Another Day

November 10 Saturday
Four people are already loitering in this room, and one more is walking up the stairs. Shirelle made four egg spinach omelets, and I ate four raw carrot thumbs. Last night we watched Mike Tysom fight Evander Holyfield for the Heavyweight Championship of the World. Today the guys are here to watch football games. "The Raiders have no discipline," says the Pepper. "Yeah, and you're full of it," I said. If you knew anything about the Pepper, you'd know how ironic it was that he was talking about anybody else's lack of discipline. It's like the pot calling the weed green. --The cut on the Russian fighter Zolkin's head gaped like a vagina in his eyebrow. I wanted to write something else last night, but I forget now what it was. Eddie George is a good football player. My brother says I should have called my dad because it was his birthday. I haven't talked to him in over a year. "Some guys you just look at them, and you know they're no good at air hockey," says Peach. --My grandparents sold their home and are leaving California in ten days. My grandfather said he would never set foot in California again. My brother told me this. ~~Evander Holyfield had "Phi. 4:13" stitched onto the lapel of the robe he wore when he made his entrance. I looked that verse up. It says, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." You can do through Christ whatever makes you stronger? I don't get it. I guess it means things that make you weak can't be done through Christ. ~~I wrote checks for my bills just now, but I need to get stamps. The mail won't be going out until Tuesday because of Veteran's Day.~~I'll finish Judith Hearne today. I'll need to look over the first chapter again, too.~~The Niners and Dallas are on. ~~Getoff brought donuts. The keg in the kitchen finally flattened. I should go for a walk. Dionte, Shirelle, and Larry drove off in Dionte's Jeep to buy an eighth of Monty D'ebi's green bud. What else? I feel light-headed. I need to hurry and get to the bottom of this. Read the Bible. Do my fifteen minutes. Read the paper. Watch "Lone Star". Tread. Work on Jim. Finish Seize the Day. I've got to call Jennifer. Peach said Jen's friend was wasted and wanted me bad, but I wasn't picking up on it. I feel like a jerk not talking to my guests. That donut made me feel sick. A shower would be good. The Thing's in the bathroom getting ready for a date, though. He cleans each pore individually. He's going to see a girl in Tustin. Shirelle is making coffee. I need to shave my neck. My hair is starting to stick out. I feel a little pukey. I fucked Shirelle silly last night. I've got to do the crossword today, too. I see the Peach eyeballin' it. I better go get it.

Saturday November 9

I woke up around seven, but I didn't go for a walk. I just stayed lying in bed. The movie "House Guest" with the comedian Sinbad is on cable in the room. I watched the whole thing. Hooleeya, Bob, and Mazio went to the office for the continental breakfast. Bob had bought a box of pastries, though, so I just ate some of those. We checked out around nine thirty and drove to the convention center. The conference was boring, so I got up and walked down the hall around the pool to the Wyndham Hotel. There was college football on two televisions in the lobby. I went to the gift shop. They were out of LA Times, so I bought the local paper. I think it's called the Desert Sun Times. I went to the bathroom and read over the front page. Then I went back into the seminar and read the rest of the news. When it ended, we drove to a place called Rock and Cod, a British place, and we ate fish and chips. After that we stopped at the casino on the Morongo Indian reservation. I sat at the blackjack table. My palms were sweating. It cost fifty cents a hand. I ordered a beer. I thought it would be free like in Vegas, but it cost two dollars. I bought sixty dollars of chips. When I stopped I had one hundred fifteen dollars. I won fifty-five dollars. Then we drove to the clothing outlets down the road in Cabezon. I charged some shirts and pants and shoes and ties and socks. Then we drove back to LA.
My car is over-heating again. Shirelle and the Swamp Thing and I went to Enid's to watch the Holyfield/Tyson fight.

Friday Nov. 8 5:15 AM afuera

I need to blow my nose. Several fast food bags litter the floor of my car, and I searched them for napkins, but they've been there several weeks, and I guess I already used all the napkins. I'm in Los Feliz in front of Hoolia Murayez's apartment complex. The moon enchanted me this morning. It hangs due east clear and brilliant and perfectly round--but it's not a full moon-- the rising sun's glare silvering along the bottom of it like the Cheshire Cat's grin. Just above it, Venus glows brightly. I drove about two miles past Western where I meant to turn had I not been enchanted by the moon. I'm writing this on the hood of my car. Shirelle brought me some Pinks burgers last night.
Mazio just got here.

We walked across the street to the liquor store to get some Zigzags. We're staying at the Best Western in Palm Springs. We've just come from a dinner uptown at Alfredo's. On the way out here this morning, we talked about going to the Morongo casino tonight. Bob Fujikami drove. We got here fast. I called him Air Fujikami. At the Math conference, we measured gummi bears' circumference. One of my colleagues is rolling a joint. The joint has a pretty impressive circumference. The comic romance "Overboard" with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell is on the hotel TV. The room cost ninety-eight bucks. What the fock else? I'm trippin' out slow tonight. The alarm went off at four fifteen this morning. In the news, Sinatra is on the verge of death. A former Kennedy Presidential advisor, Salinger, is going to present his evidence that the USA military was involved in the downing of TWA flight 800. The FBI calls the allegation complete bullshit. That little bit was enough for me. Bomb scares at LAX. A year in county jail. Farrakhan golfed with OJ. Not really, but they both said they were sick. The kidnapped baby had a happy meal. When I'm done I'll take off my shoes and belt and overshirt and change into my shorts. I'll finish Sieze the Day tonight. I need to figure out what's due Monday. Six people died in a wreck involving a drunk driver. I'll brush my teeth. I'll wake up around seven and walk for a half hour. Then I'll come back and shower. I'll dress and write for a while. Then we'll go eat and go to a workshop. On the way home, we'll stop at the clothing outlets. Maybe I can get some new clothes.

Not My F*uck Up

Thursday November 7
I just walked up the hill from Cahuenga to Universal City. I can't breathe and my inhaler is empty. My lungs are dry and brittle. The air is the same, but full of particulates. ~ I car-pooled to Downey with a middle-aged Jewish woman named Donna. She has a boy and a girl, five and seven. Her husband works for the Associated Press International desk at Rockefeller Plaza in New York City. She will be moving there soon. She works at Leo Politi Elementary School on Olympic and Western, not far from my place. Aurora Martinez, the Assistant Principal when I was hired at Sharp, is the Principal at Leo Politi now. On my break, I'll go see about working there. It would be good to work so close to home. I wonder if I'll ever leave LA?
I'm sitting at The Crow Bookseller and Gourmet Coffee. Across the way, Humpty Dumpty looks down from the toy shop wall to snap a photo of me through his monacle, but his fingers cover the lens.
I ate a Double Western Cheeseburger from Carl's Junior at lunch today. I had to Xerox seventeen copies of the first fifteen pages of Jim Crack tonight. That cost $nineteen sixty-nine.
A woman from Aadco rents left a message on my machine wanting to know where the equipment that the Thing and I left them on Monday is. I told her it was turned in. She said she needed an invoice. I said it was signed by T. Andrews. She said she needed to see the invoice. I said it wasn't like I pulled that name from my ass. You've got my address, I told her, come on over and I'll show it to you. She said I needed to come there and show them, or they'd charge me for the equipment. It's not my fuck-up, why do I have to use my time and gas to correct your guys' mistake. She repeated that I needed to come in and show her the invoice or they would charge my card for the equipment.
Roberge Rob, the writing instructor, just walked up. He said he was insanely tired. I told him I'd trade him my brittle lungs for his exhaustion if it made him feel any better. Yah, he said, and got in line for coffee.
I haven't read much of my newspaper today. Donna took it. --Right as I wrote that, a busboy walked by with a stack of Times and was about to throw them in the trash. He gave me one.
Rob comes back. He says he loves a proposition state. Says he could have voted probably about six times because the proctors were very old and confused.