Swinging Stan the Barber
Tuesday Jan. 14
Seedy brown weed. Shirelle bought a desk. I saw a story about Robert E. Howard and his relationship with a woman named Novalyn Price. I had forgotten that he killed himself. It was simple storytelling. Boring. Better to have woven together live action with graphic animation illustrating the action and fantasy of his interior life. Yeah. What else? I told Dick Flowers I would bring some paperwork to school so as to maybe invest in a mutual fund. Julia says the latest they can move back the writers' group to is 2:30. My presentation to the faculty today went great. What else? I ate a thirteen dollar burrito today. We held hands in a circle at Mixing today on the playground. Teddy Pendergrass is paralyzed. The Thing just came home. I was telling Shirelle about the thirteen dollar burrito. It happened in Beverly Hills on Wilshire. She's been working in a John Woo film with Nick Cage and John Travolta. She says she probably shouldn't have asked Travolta for his autograph. The Thing says he was at lunch listening to a debate about Ebonics on Real Talk Radio 97.1. One o one point nine is about to become ciento y uno punto nueve. Tomorrow Kayo is supposed to come at six pm. I wonder if I can reschedule it to Saturday night. What else? I'm fat. My scalp flakes and itches. I'm thirsty. I've reduced the list of Dodger games I'm goig to order tickets for to six. I have to check on the fuse situation after school tomorrow. I'm having a hard time. I got my haircut at the barber shop at Sunset and Poinsettia run by swingin' Stan. He's got nudie books in the waiting chair area bookshelf. There's never anyone waiting, though. You get the feeling, he's hoping you'll have a boner he can help you with when you sit in the barber chair. He gives a good haircut and shaves you with hot towels and a straight razor, makes you feel like Al Capone. A woman was talking to him when I walked in. She might've been a pro. Sometimes this is just my imagination, but I don't think it was this time, even though it was only a feeling. She said, "Okay, see you later, doctor," and walked out, winking at me. What else? The kids are learning about division and a little about Africa, and about the treaty signed after The War of No Battles. It's already a quarter to ten. I got email from dan. I got a Sears card in the mail. I need to make copies for Julia. What the frick else? Peachtree hasn't called back about golf. This is excruciating, this trying to write when you have nothing to say, and all you can see is how lame you are. I don't know what else I can possibly say. Acidic gas bubbles up from my guts. I'm waiting on my UCLA transcripts and an application to take the BCLAD test. I'll probably have to take some fucking classes for it. Just take the classes. Like church. Use it as a place to think and listen and meet some people.I guess I'll start on the fifteen minutes. This tape sucks.
Seedy brown weed. Shirelle bought a desk. I saw a story about Robert E. Howard and his relationship with a woman named Novalyn Price. I had forgotten that he killed himself. It was simple storytelling. Boring. Better to have woven together live action with graphic animation illustrating the action and fantasy of his interior life. Yeah. What else? I told Dick Flowers I would bring some paperwork to school so as to maybe invest in a mutual fund. Julia says the latest they can move back the writers' group to is 2:30. My presentation to the faculty today went great. What else? I ate a thirteen dollar burrito today. We held hands in a circle at Mixing today on the playground. Teddy Pendergrass is paralyzed. The Thing just came home. I was telling Shirelle about the thirteen dollar burrito. It happened in Beverly Hills on Wilshire. She's been working in a John Woo film with Nick Cage and John Travolta. She says she probably shouldn't have asked Travolta for his autograph. The Thing says he was at lunch listening to a debate about Ebonics on Real Talk Radio 97.1. One o one point nine is about to become ciento y uno punto nueve. Tomorrow Kayo is supposed to come at six pm. I wonder if I can reschedule it to Saturday night. What else? I'm fat. My scalp flakes and itches. I'm thirsty. I've reduced the list of Dodger games I'm goig to order tickets for to six. I have to check on the fuse situation after school tomorrow. I'm having a hard time. I got my haircut at the barber shop at Sunset and Poinsettia run by swingin' Stan. He's got nudie books in the waiting chair area bookshelf. There's never anyone waiting, though. You get the feeling, he's hoping you'll have a boner he can help you with when you sit in the barber chair. He gives a good haircut and shaves you with hot towels and a straight razor, makes you feel like Al Capone. A woman was talking to him when I walked in. She might've been a pro. Sometimes this is just my imagination, but I don't think it was this time, even though it was only a feeling. She said, "Okay, see you later, doctor," and walked out, winking at me. What else? The kids are learning about division and a little about Africa, and about the treaty signed after The War of No Battles. It's already a quarter to ten. I got email from dan. I got a Sears card in the mail. I need to make copies for Julia. What the frick else? Peachtree hasn't called back about golf. This is excruciating, this trying to write when you have nothing to say, and all you can see is how lame you are. I don't know what else I can possibly say. Acidic gas bubbles up from my guts. I'm waiting on my UCLA transcripts and an application to take the BCLAD test. I'll probably have to take some fucking classes for it. Just take the classes. Like church. Use it as a place to think and listen and meet some people.I guess I'll start on the fifteen minutes. This tape sucks.
posted by johnz at 10:49 AM
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