I'm a Dork
Wed. Jan 15 5:02 PM
It rained today. I'm bootin my computer while I write this. I'm going to check my email. Let's see if I can get onto AOL. It's trying the second number. I ate a honeynut crunch peanut butter and apricot preserves sandwich on sesame seed topped egg bread. Before that I threw a day-old tuna melt on bread from the same loaf and toasted it in the broiler for a few minutes. It is difficult to sign on to AOL now that they have "unlimited access". I got through on the third or fourth try. Kayo is supposed to be coming this way tonight. I think he is expecting to go to a bar. If he doesn't come, I'm going to watch "Slingblade" and read books and play my guitar. I want to eat all night. I need to treadmill. I have to get these financial papers in order to meet with Dick Flowers tomorrow. I stopped at Chief Auto on Highland and got the fuses I needed for the horn and turn signals. Maybe I'll call Skybar tonight. I forgot to xerox the article I needed. "A long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last." Write Howrad. It would be better to go out tomorrow maybe. Oh, well. I can sleep an extra hour Friday morning. I need a briefcase or a new bag. I gave Shirelle my MasterCharge and a spending limit of $150 to Christmas shop. The bill has come. She spent $468. Who's the shit-head? The BCLAD application came. I'll have to wait to June to take the fucking test, and I may be on vacation in other lands by then, and the fucking money is not guaranteed. What else? Why am I such a fool? Why am I such a dumbass? Dionte was here with Shirelle. She had led him to the bud store. We smoked a bowl while I read the sports page and Shirelle prattled about matchmaking and background work. I belched twice just now. I have a zit in my forehead over the right side of left eyebrow. None of the Neruda poems have struck me so far. The translations are sort of aggravating. Marwin and some other clowns don't know Spanish or English or language that well. That Alan Bloom is likewise irritating. I'm going to have to get into a good work of fiction to make things write. I keep imagining the tastes of wine. I felt a drop of water splash on my hand, but there was no drop and no source. My uncle and cousins think I'm a dork.
It rained today. I'm bootin my computer while I write this. I'm going to check my email. Let's see if I can get onto AOL. It's trying the second number. I ate a honeynut crunch peanut butter and apricot preserves sandwich on sesame seed topped egg bread. Before that I threw a day-old tuna melt on bread from the same loaf and toasted it in the broiler for a few minutes. It is difficult to sign on to AOL now that they have "unlimited access". I got through on the third or fourth try. Kayo is supposed to be coming this way tonight. I think he is expecting to go to a bar. If he doesn't come, I'm going to watch "Slingblade" and read books and play my guitar. I want to eat all night. I need to treadmill. I have to get these financial papers in order to meet with Dick Flowers tomorrow. I stopped at Chief Auto on Highland and got the fuses I needed for the horn and turn signals. Maybe I'll call Skybar tonight. I forgot to xerox the article I needed. "A long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last." Write Howrad. It would be better to go out tomorrow maybe. Oh, well. I can sleep an extra hour Friday morning. I need a briefcase or a new bag. I gave Shirelle my MasterCharge and a spending limit of $150 to Christmas shop. The bill has come. She spent $468. Who's the shit-head? The BCLAD application came. I'll have to wait to June to take the fucking test, and I may be on vacation in other lands by then, and the fucking money is not guaranteed. What else? Why am I such a fool? Why am I such a dumbass? Dionte was here with Shirelle. She had led him to the bud store. We smoked a bowl while I read the sports page and Shirelle prattled about matchmaking and background work. I belched twice just now. I have a zit in my forehead over the right side of left eyebrow. None of the Neruda poems have struck me so far. The translations are sort of aggravating. Marwin and some other clowns don't know Spanish or English or language that well. That Alan Bloom is likewise irritating. I'm going to have to get into a good work of fiction to make things write. I keep imagining the tastes of wine. I felt a drop of water splash on my hand, but there was no drop and no source. My uncle and cousins think I'm a dork.
posted by johnz at 9:08 PM
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