Hooray for Hollywood
Saturday December 14
Got up and went to HBT this morning. Signed on for Hugo's crew. Zelin and Isabelle were on the crew with me. We loaded the truck with picks and shovels and roses and jasmines and hoes and rakes and buckets of earth and gravel.
Sunday December 15
I got to write just that much yesterday before Shirelle said we had to leave "right now" to go to a godam party she's been excited about for weeks. I bought a pocket-sized notebook at Luvalle Commons the other day. I like 'em that size when I go out; it's inconspicuous and it imposes poetic line breaks. The Czech photographer and I are on a lot of the same HBT crews. She likes me. I wrote her phone number on the first page of the notebook. I left the notebook in the back pocket of my jeans on the bathroom floor while I showered. Shirelle spotted it, took it, and now I'll probably never see it again. Like it's okay for her to have all her little Joe's and Adam's and whoever that I don't care about, but I can't have a Czech photographer's phone number. While we swept around Rosement El, a rude-mouthed black guy argued with a clear-eyed Peruvian over who did more coke. "Look up your nose," he flared his nostrils and pushed him in the chest. "Look up YOUR nose," the Peruvian guy said. Zelin, who used to be a man, has nice tits and a five o'clock shadow, said to me while I was working, "I see you can sweep a broom as well as you can a lady off her feet." I acted like I didn't hear her. A chola walked by screaming obscenities at a little guy walking with her. She punched him hard on the face, but he kept walking with her. She crossed the street and put out her thumb to hitch a ride. I sliced my finger loading a heavy potted rose. I was going to have to go with Luis to Highland Park to pick up trash, but Isabella sent Hugo to save me. Hugo said, "I need this guy." He dropped us off at the donut shop to have lunch. Rude-mouthed black man and a busy-bearded white Rastafarian babbling about the decline of the West came in high from RMBM's red Mercedes and sat down with us. We picked up all the trash the Hollywood Boulevard crew had bagged. I rode in the back of the truck with the trash piled high beneath and jumped out every time we slowed to grab another big bag of sick shit off the Walk of Fame. Isabella photographed the people we passed, winos and immigrants and all. I gave Zelin a ride home. I was too late and tired to see the movie I wanted to see so I just watched the Heisman Trophy presentation to Danny Wuerffel when I got home.
Today I got put on Sunset Boulevard. George told the crew to listen to me and do what I say. Thanks a fucking lot, George, I said. Then Rochelle, who is porn star Holly Body, bounced over and said she wanted to be on my crew, that I was a hard worker. All true.
Got up and went to HBT this morning. Signed on for Hugo's crew. Zelin and Isabelle were on the crew with me. We loaded the truck with picks and shovels and roses and jasmines and hoes and rakes and buckets of earth and gravel.
Sunday December 15
I got to write just that much yesterday before Shirelle said we had to leave "right now" to go to a godam party she's been excited about for weeks. I bought a pocket-sized notebook at Luvalle Commons the other day. I like 'em that size when I go out; it's inconspicuous and it imposes poetic line breaks. The Czech photographer and I are on a lot of the same HBT crews. She likes me. I wrote her phone number on the first page of the notebook. I left the notebook in the back pocket of my jeans on the bathroom floor while I showered. Shirelle spotted it, took it, and now I'll probably never see it again. Like it's okay for her to have all her little Joe's and Adam's and whoever that I don't care about, but I can't have a Czech photographer's phone number. While we swept around Rosement El, a rude-mouthed black guy argued with a clear-eyed Peruvian over who did more coke. "Look up your nose," he flared his nostrils and pushed him in the chest. "Look up YOUR nose," the Peruvian guy said. Zelin, who used to be a man, has nice tits and a five o'clock shadow, said to me while I was working, "I see you can sweep a broom as well as you can a lady off her feet." I acted like I didn't hear her. A chola walked by screaming obscenities at a little guy walking with her. She punched him hard on the face, but he kept walking with her. She crossed the street and put out her thumb to hitch a ride. I sliced my finger loading a heavy potted rose. I was going to have to go with Luis to Highland Park to pick up trash, but Isabella sent Hugo to save me. Hugo said, "I need this guy." He dropped us off at the donut shop to have lunch. Rude-mouthed black man and a busy-bearded white Rastafarian babbling about the decline of the West came in high from RMBM's red Mercedes and sat down with us. We picked up all the trash the Hollywood Boulevard crew had bagged. I rode in the back of the truck with the trash piled high beneath and jumped out every time we slowed to grab another big bag of sick shit off the Walk of Fame. Isabella photographed the people we passed, winos and immigrants and all. I gave Zelin a ride home. I was too late and tired to see the movie I wanted to see so I just watched the Heisman Trophy presentation to Danny Wuerffel when I got home.
Today I got put on Sunset Boulevard. George told the crew to listen to me and do what I say. Thanks a fucking lot, George, I said. Then Rochelle, who is porn star Holly Body, bounced over and said she wanted to be on my crew, that I was a hard worker. All true.
posted by johnz at 3:35 PM
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