Ice Bros by Sloan Wilson
Sunday November 17
It's hard, in a way, to know. My oh my. I've just sat down to write after my shower, and my bud smoke, and my wine sips. That's what happened most recently. In the big picture, I don't know. I don't know nothing. My grandfather this morning showed me how to tie a clove hitch. They were tying up coat hanger bundles of five or six hangers. I would have just thrown them in a box. He also showed me a sheepshank, and a noose, and another one I don't remember. My grandfather fell asleep while we watched "All Quiet on the Western Front". My grandfather called my father at Hayden Lake. I had to talk to my dad. You know, the dog loves the snow, shit like that. The Swamp Thing and Tiffany just walked down the stairs. I said, see you next time. I came looking over my shoulder at the news. I don't know what to have for supper tonight. "Fatal Attraction" is on TV right now on the USA network. This is a DOMAINE St. GEORGE CALIFORNIA MERLOT S E L E C T 1995 RESERVE. Shirelle went out with twenty dollars I gave her to bring back stamps and dinner. She said she'd get fish. I just popped some Ralph's Old Style California Vegetables from the freezer into the microwave. Shirelle has some cake. What's with this week pen? Shirelle had to go back to the store because she paid for the stamps, but the clerk didn't give them to her. So I pulled all the spines out of the fish. Shall I use my Blockbuster coupon tonight? I haven't read the Times nor done the Sunday crossword. Maybe that's why I feel all out of sorts. I did read the Hemet paper. A black kid from West Valley High came to the door to see about five bucks for raking leaves in the yard. He did a good job. They gave me a picture of the original John L Zorn in front of his hardware store in Haverstraw, New York in 1914. I still have to critique three stories. After my fifteen minutes. Or maybe I look in Tom's room for the Times. Ugh. I wish I had some earth-moving sentiment to write here. Yeah, at least something worthwhile. Nothing's as worthwhile as anything else. The communities around Hemet may as well be Oklahoma. Hayden Lake is the headquarters of the Aryan Nation. My grandfather had me read an article by a Benjamin Stein which insisted that it was not a racist place; they didn't hate him, he said. My father told me of the joyous moment when one of his fellow cops knocked future NBA star Bill Walton "on his ass, because Walton didn't think he had to do what he was told," at an anti-Vietnam war rally at UCLA.
Sunday November 17
It's hard, in a way, to know. My oh my. I've just sat down to write after my shower, and my bud smoke, and my wine sips. That's what happened most recently. In the big picture, I don't know. I don't know nothing. My grandfather this morning showed me how to tie a clove hitch. They were tying up coat hanger bundles of five or six hangers. I would have just thrown them in a box. He also showed me a sheepshank, and a noose, and another one I don't remember. My grandfather fell asleep while we watched "All Quiet on the Western Front". My grandfather called my father at Hayden Lake. I had to talk to my dad. You know, the dog loves the snow, shit like that. The Swamp Thing and Tiffany just walked down the stairs. I said, see you next time. I came looking over my shoulder at the news. I don't know what to have for supper tonight. "Fatal Attraction" is on TV right now on the USA network. This is a DOMAINE St. GEORGE CALIFORNIA MERLOT S E L E C T 1995 RESERVE. Shirelle went out with twenty dollars I gave her to bring back stamps and dinner. She said she'd get fish. I just popped some Ralph's Old Style California Vegetables from the freezer into the microwave. Shirelle has some cake. What's with this week pen? Shirelle had to go back to the store because she paid for the stamps, but the clerk didn't give them to her. So I pulled all the spines out of the fish. Shall I use my Blockbuster coupon tonight? I haven't read the Times nor done the Sunday crossword. Maybe that's why I feel all out of sorts. I did read the Hemet paper. A black kid from West Valley High came to the door to see about five bucks for raking leaves in the yard. He did a good job. They gave me a picture of the original John L Zorn in front of his hardware store in Haverstraw, New York in 1914. I still have to critique three stories. After my fifteen minutes. Or maybe I look in Tom's room for the Times. Ugh. I wish I had some earth-moving sentiment to write here. Yeah, at least something worthwhile. Nothing's as worthwhile as anything else. The communities around Hemet may as well be Oklahoma. Hayden Lake is the headquarters of the Aryan Nation. My grandfather had me read an article by a Benjamin Stein which insisted that it was not a racist place; they didn't hate him, he said. My father told me of the joyous moment when one of his fellow cops knocked future NBA star Bill Walton "on his ass, because Walton didn't think he had to do what he was told," at an anti-Vietnam war rally at UCLA.
posted by johnz at 9:58 AM
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