Monday Jan. 13
It drizzled more today. George of the protruding forehead was upset all day. Tomorrow I have to do a thirty-minute presentation at school about problem-solving from a lecture I attended at the Learning and Thinking Skills Institute. Thirty Minutes. I'll plan for that when I'm done here. I feel like this is the place for rawer emotion. Uh, yeah. Demona wants to host her own Politically Correct Friday night on the topic of Larry Flynt and the First Amendment. I golf Saturday. I asked Mark and Victor if they want to go. I emailed Kathleen to ask if we could move the meeting to a later time. Sunday would be best. Shirelle had a bottle of champagne open when I got home today. I've got to write Jim's conversation with with older bar patron about true love.
One time.
I don't care much about paragraph-to-paragraph chronology. Morrison blew it to pieces.
I talked about the globalization of language.
A lemma is a sub-equation written to prove a main equation.
I did that knot thing with the kids. First we stood in a circle and held hands.
I'm reading a short story by Stephen Crane called "The Open Boat". It reminds me of Marquez's tale of the shipwrecked sailor. Mrs. Pantoja's son is going to Washington DC. Luis brought his little sister to class after school today. I said, "How come she's so pretty and you're so feo?" What a stupid thing to say. I thought I was being funny. He shrugged good-naturedly and said, "Because I look like my dad. She looks like my mom." He's nine.
I didn't go to Chief Auto Parts today. Tomorrow I'm going to see "The Whole Wide World" at the Beverly Hills Music Hall on Wilshire and Doheney at 5:30. I've got to stay up until at least until 11:30 and read after I'm done writing for the night. No news today except that they re-enacted the sesquicentennial of the Treaty of Cahuenga in which the Californios, led by Andres Pico, surrendered to John C. Fremont without a battle. We should research Fremont in class.
He claims I suffer from delusion/ I'm so confident I'm sane/Can't be no optical illusion/ How can you explain/ I've still got to type for fifteen minutes. I don't think I'll be able to tread tonight. Shirelle fixed some drumsticks. I ate two with some Stovetop Stuffing. The tv is off. The cassette plays songs I taped at Jeff Seedy0's house about five years ago.
It drizzled more today. George of the protruding forehead was upset all day. Tomorrow I have to do a thirty-minute presentation at school about problem-solving from a lecture I attended at the Learning and Thinking Skills Institute. Thirty Minutes. I'll plan for that when I'm done here. I feel like this is the place for rawer emotion. Uh, yeah. Demona wants to host her own Politically Correct Friday night on the topic of Larry Flynt and the First Amendment. I golf Saturday. I asked Mark and Victor if they want to go. I emailed Kathleen to ask if we could move the meeting to a later time. Sunday would be best. Shirelle had a bottle of champagne open when I got home today. I've got to write Jim's conversation with with older bar patron about true love.
One time.
I don't care much about paragraph-to-paragraph chronology. Morrison blew it to pieces.
I talked about the globalization of language.
A lemma is a sub-equation written to prove a main equation.
I did that knot thing with the kids. First we stood in a circle and held hands.
I'm reading a short story by Stephen Crane called "The Open Boat". It reminds me of Marquez's tale of the shipwrecked sailor. Mrs. Pantoja's son is going to Washington DC. Luis brought his little sister to class after school today. I said, "How come she's so pretty and you're so feo?" What a stupid thing to say. I thought I was being funny. He shrugged good-naturedly and said, "Because I look like my dad. She looks like my mom." He's nine.
I didn't go to Chief Auto Parts today. Tomorrow I'm going to see "The Whole Wide World" at the Beverly Hills Music Hall on Wilshire and Doheney at 5:30. I've got to stay up until at least until 11:30 and read after I'm done writing for the night. No news today except that they re-enacted the sesquicentennial of the Treaty of Cahuenga in which the Californios, led by Andres Pico, surrendered to John C. Fremont without a battle. We should research Fremont in class.
He claims I suffer from delusion/ I'm so confident I'm sane/Can't be no optical illusion/ How can you explain/ I've still got to type for fifteen minutes. I don't think I'll be able to tread tonight. Shirelle fixed some drumsticks. I ate two with some Stovetop Stuffing. The tv is off. The cassette plays songs I taped at Jeff Seedy0's house about five years ago.
posted by johnz at 6:46 PM
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