"All Those," I said
3-18 Tu 9:22 AM Airtel Plaza Hotel, Van Nuys
Dry, droning, technical jargon, but I feel good today. Spring is coming. I caught a nice buzz last night, and I have no hangover this morning. Women talked with me last night. I was charming and conversant for a change. I don't remember how Cathy's and my conversation started. I told her she reminded me of Catholine Ebbetsfield, who was my girlfriend in high school. She, was it she? or someone else asked me where my accent came from. I went through being born in Hollywood and told her part one of my life story. She told me hers. Forty-year-old divorcee from North Carolina with teenagers who didn't like California and went home. I talked with her about my mother's guilt and offered reassurances. She accepted a chardonnay. I teased her about the age difference. I started calling her Mrs. Reis. She gave one of her cards to some guy. I told her I had been feeling clammed up. She said what did I mean. She ran down a list of what I could mean: 1. I wasn't in the mood to talk. 2. I wanted to talk, but couldn't 3. There was no one worth talking to. I told her it was a combination of things including guilt about cutting my night school class to go out drinking. She gave me a card. I walked her to the door. Then I sat with a Jewish comedy writer and smoked a clove cigarette. A tall, leggy brunette, beautiful despite a bent nose, smiled at me when I looked at her but declined a conversation, indicating the foulness of my cigarette. For some reason I asked a girl at the bar if she was a lesbian. She said, "You're either very rude or very drunk or very blunt and straightforward." "All those," I said. She said she was writing about pornography. I told her I'd send here some of my work. Her name is Skye Lerner. "A lovely name. So literary," I slurred. She wrote her PO Box number in my little notebook. I danced with a big, round, full-bodied blonde. We went to Taco Bell. I left my coat in GIP's Montero. There are so may lovely girls. I've got spring fever. I want to marry two in this room here and have dozens of children and live long loving lives in the Utah wilderness.
"I got my ass kicked by buses and trucks and red lights and shit-heads all the way here."
"I love women! Even though I can't stand them. They're so lovely. Mayra and Jennifer, I love you both!'
Dry, droning, technical jargon, but I feel good today. Spring is coming. I caught a nice buzz last night, and I have no hangover this morning. Women talked with me last night. I was charming and conversant for a change. I don't remember how Cathy's and my conversation started. I told her she reminded me of Catholine Ebbetsfield, who was my girlfriend in high school. She, was it she? or someone else asked me where my accent came from. I went through being born in Hollywood and told her part one of my life story. She told me hers. Forty-year-old divorcee from North Carolina with teenagers who didn't like California and went home. I talked with her about my mother's guilt and offered reassurances. She accepted a chardonnay. I teased her about the age difference. I started calling her Mrs. Reis. She gave one of her cards to some guy. I told her I had been feeling clammed up. She said what did I mean. She ran down a list of what I could mean: 1. I wasn't in the mood to talk. 2. I wanted to talk, but couldn't 3. There was no one worth talking to. I told her it was a combination of things including guilt about cutting my night school class to go out drinking. She gave me a card. I walked her to the door. Then I sat with a Jewish comedy writer and smoked a clove cigarette. A tall, leggy brunette, beautiful despite a bent nose, smiled at me when I looked at her but declined a conversation, indicating the foulness of my cigarette. For some reason I asked a girl at the bar if she was a lesbian. She said, "You're either very rude or very drunk or very blunt and straightforward." "All those," I said. She said she was writing about pornography. I told her I'd send here some of my work. Her name is Skye Lerner. "A lovely name. So literary," I slurred. She wrote her PO Box number in my little notebook. I danced with a big, round, full-bodied blonde. We went to Taco Bell. I left my coat in GIP's Montero. There are so may lovely girls. I've got spring fever. I want to marry two in this room here and have dozens of children and live long loving lives in the Utah wilderness.
"I got my ass kicked by buses and trucks and red lights and shit-heads all the way here."
"I love women! Even though I can't stand them. They're so lovely. Mayra and Jennifer, I love you both!'
posted by johnz at 7:17 PM
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