Brad Pitt and I
1-4-97
I watched football games today. Green Bay beat San Franciso, and Jacksonville shocked Denver, though I suspected that upset all along. Last night we went bowling at Hollywood Star Lanes. It was a big group of lively people. Shirelle has a strong energetic group of friends. My friends and I are not like that. Shirelles friends have all stuck together since high school, Fairfax hipsters. Few of them have carreers or families, and most still live at home or on incomes subsidized by their parents.
Shirelle is going up to Cafe Largo to see her girlfriend Ileyni sing. Thing's girlfriend is taking him to Ed Debevic's for his birthday. The Guatemalan Insanity Pepper is an idiot. His superficiality is appalling. I should not rip on people. My oberservations are all so mundane.
I was watching "Seinfeld" while I heated my leftover spaghetti in the microwave. The bell went "ding". Kramer cut himself on a coffee table he had made from a windshield. I laughed and dropped my plate on the counter and cut myself trying to catch it. Isn't it ironic? Oh, God, give me some inspiration. Maybe if I walk down to that underground tea place on La Brea... I wonder if any cool chicks ever go there.
I ate the spaghetti that I scraped off the counter onto a new plate. There were shards of the old plate in it. I tried to pick them out of my mouth when I felt them. One cut my tongue, and the salty blood mixed well with the tomato sauce. There were a few gritty mouthfuls. This morning I shit out an arrow-shaped piece of ceramic plate. I pulled it out of my butthole after wiping my ass. I couldn't believe how sharp it was to have caused so little discomfort.
Shirelle asked, "What are you going to do tonight? Stay home and watch "Legends of the Fall?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to jack off to it. I'm going to pretend Brad Pitt and I are taking turns buttfucking each other."
"Why do you have to be gross?"
"Who am I talking to? You're Shirelle Buttler, right? You love that picture. Gross. You're the one'd be jacking off over that."
I'm an ass. There's no denying.
Ebonics is a joke. How about we validate surf slang? Maybe I'll watch "Slingblade" tonight.
My life is a bore. Too safe. I should quit my job. Live poor. Just write. Carlin gave me a couple of Band-Aids. I wonder how my forbears are weathering the storms in Idaho.
I watched football games today. Green Bay beat San Franciso, and Jacksonville shocked Denver, though I suspected that upset all along. Last night we went bowling at Hollywood Star Lanes. It was a big group of lively people. Shirelle has a strong energetic group of friends. My friends and I are not like that. Shirelles friends have all stuck together since high school, Fairfax hipsters. Few of them have carreers or families, and most still live at home or on incomes subsidized by their parents.
Shirelle is going up to Cafe Largo to see her girlfriend Ileyni sing. Thing's girlfriend is taking him to Ed Debevic's for his birthday. The Guatemalan Insanity Pepper is an idiot. His superficiality is appalling. I should not rip on people. My oberservations are all so mundane.
I was watching "Seinfeld" while I heated my leftover spaghetti in the microwave. The bell went "ding". Kramer cut himself on a coffee table he had made from a windshield. I laughed and dropped my plate on the counter and cut myself trying to catch it. Isn't it ironic? Oh, God, give me some inspiration. Maybe if I walk down to that underground tea place on La Brea... I wonder if any cool chicks ever go there.
I ate the spaghetti that I scraped off the counter onto a new plate. There were shards of the old plate in it. I tried to pick them out of my mouth when I felt them. One cut my tongue, and the salty blood mixed well with the tomato sauce. There were a few gritty mouthfuls. This morning I shit out an arrow-shaped piece of ceramic plate. I pulled it out of my butthole after wiping my ass. I couldn't believe how sharp it was to have caused so little discomfort.
Shirelle asked, "What are you going to do tonight? Stay home and watch "Legends of the Fall?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to jack off to it. I'm going to pretend Brad Pitt and I are taking turns buttfucking each other."
"Why do you have to be gross?"
"Who am I talking to? You're Shirelle Buttler, right? You love that picture. Gross. You're the one'd be jacking off over that."
I'm an ass. There's no denying.
Ebonics is a joke. How about we validate surf slang? Maybe I'll watch "Slingblade" tonight.
My life is a bore. Too safe. I should quit my job. Live poor. Just write. Carlin gave me a couple of Band-Aids. I wonder how my forbears are weathering the storms in Idaho.
posted by johnz at 3:39 PM
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