I'm For Not Dickin' Anybody Over
Tuesday January 7 1997
I was bummed to have left this silly little book on my desk at school over night, unable to write to the botton of the next page like I had wanted. And I was so fecund yesterday. Armageddon was confirmed yesterday when Peter O'Malley announced the sale of the Dodgers to Fox News Corporation. The business climate of baseball has succumbed to utter corporate evil. Baseball will never be the same. Ticket prices in LA will go out of reach for the average fan. Just when the Dodgers were on the verge of a dynasty, the rug gets pulled out. Our five consecutive Rookies of the Year will go their own ways in search of more dollars. Fucking Jerry Reinsdorf and Wayne Huizenga are responsible for this. O'Malley is a wise man who couldn't face the disgusting level of greed that was imminent in negotiations with Piazza, Nomo, Karros, Mondesi, et. al. A dark day. The bells toll for baseball. Ugh.
I have to e-mail Linda. I can't find Rob's e-mail address. I need to phone Julia. I spoke with Pam today about a computer network. She was sympathetic, if not understanding, to the difficulty I face as point man. I need to work out a whale-watching trip,. I need to go to Marti Bravo's class tomorrow and call the fucking CLAD office. I guess I'll send Julia and Kathleen copies of Miracle Mile and my two new poems. There's nothing on TV tonight. Isn't that nice. I'll just watch Jeopardy and Simpsons and treadmill off some of the bloating Michoacan lunch I ate today. Read a few Neruda poems and one of The Best Essays of 1994. Tomorrow I'll talk about what Mrs. Pantoja mentioned about cramming. When I'm done here, I'll puff some and type for 15 minutes and pick some other files until 7:00. I'll stare at Jim from eight o'clock until nine o'clock. Then I'll lie in bed and read. Shirelle got a thousand dollar check for her lines on a TV show called "The Parent 'Hood." She brought back $184 worth of groceries from the supermarket. The new washer and drier kept tripping the circuit breakers. I had to run an extension cord along the wall to the plug on the other side of the ktichen so they wouldn't be sucking off the same outlet the refrigerator does. Lord save me! Help me do the right things. The song "In God's Country" just came on the radio. I love this song. I get love from this song. It does have the big beautiful sound of Nature's God. Really.
Well. At the bottom of this page I'll have written through another book. This one is equal to the first. Isn't that disappointing? Equality.
Men make the Adam and Eve myth, write it, anyway, but women dictated it.
Cool. Bruce Springsteen.
You know what I'm for? I'm for not dickin' anybody over. That's what I'm about. I do feel good now. Nice high.
Ah, but there are always consequences, even to joy. Kayo just called. He wants to teach. We're supposed to golf Saturday. I'm going to call Hansen Dam. Shirelle's rapping in the kitchen. Mrs. Pantoja talked about cramming words together.
I was bummed to have left this silly little book on my desk at school over night, unable to write to the botton of the next page like I had wanted. And I was so fecund yesterday. Armageddon was confirmed yesterday when Peter O'Malley announced the sale of the Dodgers to Fox News Corporation. The business climate of baseball has succumbed to utter corporate evil. Baseball will never be the same. Ticket prices in LA will go out of reach for the average fan. Just when the Dodgers were on the verge of a dynasty, the rug gets pulled out. Our five consecutive Rookies of the Year will go their own ways in search of more dollars. Fucking Jerry Reinsdorf and Wayne Huizenga are responsible for this. O'Malley is a wise man who couldn't face the disgusting level of greed that was imminent in negotiations with Piazza, Nomo, Karros, Mondesi, et. al. A dark day. The bells toll for baseball. Ugh.
I have to e-mail Linda. I can't find Rob's e-mail address. I need to phone Julia. I spoke with Pam today about a computer network. She was sympathetic, if not understanding, to the difficulty I face as point man. I need to work out a whale-watching trip,. I need to go to Marti Bravo's class tomorrow and call the fucking CLAD office. I guess I'll send Julia and Kathleen copies of Miracle Mile and my two new poems. There's nothing on TV tonight. Isn't that nice. I'll just watch Jeopardy and Simpsons and treadmill off some of the bloating Michoacan lunch I ate today. Read a few Neruda poems and one of The Best Essays of 1994. Tomorrow I'll talk about what Mrs. Pantoja mentioned about cramming. When I'm done here, I'll puff some and type for 15 minutes and pick some other files until 7:00. I'll stare at Jim from eight o'clock until nine o'clock. Then I'll lie in bed and read. Shirelle got a thousand dollar check for her lines on a TV show called "The Parent 'Hood." She brought back $184 worth of groceries from the supermarket. The new washer and drier kept tripping the circuit breakers. I had to run an extension cord along the wall to the plug on the other side of the ktichen so they wouldn't be sucking off the same outlet the refrigerator does. Lord save me! Help me do the right things. The song "In God's Country" just came on the radio. I love this song. I get love from this song. It does have the big beautiful sound of Nature's God. Really.
Well. At the bottom of this page I'll have written through another book. This one is equal to the first. Isn't that disappointing? Equality.
Men make the Adam and Eve myth, write it, anyway, but women dictated it.
Cool. Bruce Springsteen.
You know what I'm for? I'm for not dickin' anybody over. That's what I'm about. I do feel good now. Nice high.
Ah, but there are always consequences, even to joy. Kayo just called. He wants to teach. We're supposed to golf Saturday. I'm going to call Hansen Dam. Shirelle's rapping in the kitchen. Mrs. Pantoja talked about cramming words together.
posted by johnz at 7:02 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home