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.
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.
posted by johnz at 6:32 PM
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