January 7, 1997
"Move up the side, let the man on through" is the song on the radio. It sounds like something they would play when Mike Tyson jogs out to the ring. Now it's Beck with my favorite song "Loser". My friends are calling about becoming teachers. Justine, Kayo, and my brother have called about it in the last few days. To whom will I send my poems? Julia and or Linda. The year passed with little reflection. Hopes for the new year--It's copascetic. I got a letter from my stepmother and a card from Scott Biddlecombe in Australia. I shall write them back promptly. I don't feel too bad, but Shirelle and I had a row. She pulled on me two nights in a row of surprise guest stars and again last night. I revolted. I had been planning to treadmill and write. I was so disheartened by the intrusion that I retreated to the bedroom and pouted listlessly.
Jan Miller wrote about the people of Hayden Lake, Idaho, "...their thinking is what true America was suppose [sic] to be. Everyone feels that you are accountable for your actions and if you cross the line you pay. In the paper they list everyone who has an outstanding warrant, civil suit, bankruptcy, etc."
Don'tcha sometimes wish the press would stay out of people's personal lives?
I ate all these leftover shrimp that Shirelle had made for her an her girlfriend over which to chat. This don't-end-a-sentence-with-preposition thing is funny.
What else? Adrianna Gonzalez was my first TA. She's subbing for me tomorrow while I attend some workshop at the Levy Center County Office of Education in Torrance. I'll tread tonight and read that essay with God's help, right, old pal?
I ate an orange not long ago. Levi asked me how they know that light travels a hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second. I guess they use some mathematical formulae and some high-tec, photosensitive timing equipment.
Hole is on the radio. Shirelle went to Kristina's. The Thing is in the kitchen. I smoked a little. I've got some sniffles, some difficulty breathing, need to call the pharmacy. I'll type for fifteen and then go with some other files. Yawn. I need new guitar strings. I'm wise enough to know the possibility of drawbacks is not non-existent.
"Move up the side, let the man on through" is the song on the radio. It sounds like something they would play when Mike Tyson jogs out to the ring. Now it's Beck with my favorite song "Loser". My friends are calling about becoming teachers. Justine, Kayo, and my brother have called about it in the last few days. To whom will I send my poems? Julia and or Linda. The year passed with little reflection. Hopes for the new year--It's copascetic. I got a letter from my stepmother and a card from Scott Biddlecombe in Australia. I shall write them back promptly. I don't feel too bad, but Shirelle and I had a row. She pulled on me two nights in a row of surprise guest stars and again last night. I revolted. I had been planning to treadmill and write. I was so disheartened by the intrusion that I retreated to the bedroom and pouted listlessly.
Jan Miller wrote about the people of Hayden Lake, Idaho, "...their thinking is what true America was suppose [sic] to be. Everyone feels that you are accountable for your actions and if you cross the line you pay. In the paper they list everyone who has an outstanding warrant, civil suit, bankruptcy, etc."
Don'tcha sometimes wish the press would stay out of people's personal lives?
I ate all these leftover shrimp that Shirelle had made for her an her girlfriend over which to chat. This don't-end-a-sentence-with-preposition thing is funny.
What else? Adrianna Gonzalez was my first TA. She's subbing for me tomorrow while I attend some workshop at the Levy Center County Office of Education in Torrance. I'll tread tonight and read that essay with God's help, right, old pal?
I ate an orange not long ago. Levi asked me how they know that light travels a hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second. I guess they use some mathematical formulae and some high-tec, photosensitive timing equipment.
Hole is on the radio. Shirelle went to Kristina's. The Thing is in the kitchen. I smoked a little. I've got some sniffles, some difficulty breathing, need to call the pharmacy. I'll type for fifteen and then go with some other files. Yawn. I need new guitar strings. I'm wise enough to know the possibility of drawbacks is not non-existent.
posted by johnz at 6:06 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home