Comets as God Sperm
3-29
Twenty dollar incense and a free bag of weed. The light made diamonds. John said, "That's a really powerful smell." He was sniffing my marijuana. The Gip was treating spring training like it was the World Series. "The Virgin Guadalupe," says Nicandro, from class, who's on the phone. Gustavo Padilla fearin' crime. He's still on the line, but I can't think of anything to say. I called the GIP, anxious to go out, but now I've lost my gusto.
Charlamos. Como platicar. Yo estaba par atras.
He said if I got a brainstorm to call him. I said, "It's the doldrums." Doll drums. What the fuck. Thing and his afraid and pissed-off girlfriend just bailed. John said Thing ironed her shirt for her. I didn't notice. Things have grounded to an utter halt. Unemployability. Sincerity is bunk. I guess I'll just ramble through this. Finish it and get to bed. It's not going to be easy. There's a TV tray set up with a couple of bottles of Lite, a Camel cigarette matchbox, some stems, a little bag, foil-wrapped incense, and two remotes. John's burning hard on the couch. Comets as God sperm. Ugh. This is degenerative. I feel tired. Sapped. Bummed. It's good I'm staying in. Not a damn thing. I hear footsteps downstairs. You can hear the buzz of the helicopters. Long way to go still. When Roy came into my class the other day, I had just put my feet up. What the heck is plastic? I think I'll go look at a house in Tujunga tomorrow. Altered gravitational pull. Study the heavens. What's heaven? It's good I'm getting air tonight. What else? I haven't really eaten yet tonight. Let's see. I ate that pork with some tortillas and two PB and Js. No cereal. No fruit. Someone is playing music downstairs. Crap, I feel so beat right now. What'll I eat? Or should I just go to bed without eating? There's chick music down there, and I heard talking which usually involves a second party. What else? Should I go to the bottom of this page? Or the next? It was hard just to get to here.
Twenty dollar incense and a free bag of weed. The light made diamonds. John said, "That's a really powerful smell." He was sniffing my marijuana. The Gip was treating spring training like it was the World Series. "The Virgin Guadalupe," says Nicandro, from class, who's on the phone. Gustavo Padilla fearin' crime. He's still on the line, but I can't think of anything to say. I called the GIP, anxious to go out, but now I've lost my gusto.
Charlamos. Como platicar. Yo estaba par atras.
He said if I got a brainstorm to call him. I said, "It's the doldrums." Doll drums. What the fuck. Thing and his afraid and pissed-off girlfriend just bailed. John said Thing ironed her shirt for her. I didn't notice. Things have grounded to an utter halt. Unemployability. Sincerity is bunk. I guess I'll just ramble through this. Finish it and get to bed. It's not going to be easy. There's a TV tray set up with a couple of bottles of Lite, a Camel cigarette matchbox, some stems, a little bag, foil-wrapped incense, and two remotes. John's burning hard on the couch. Comets as God sperm. Ugh. This is degenerative. I feel tired. Sapped. Bummed. It's good I'm staying in. Not a damn thing. I hear footsteps downstairs. You can hear the buzz of the helicopters. Long way to go still. When Roy came into my class the other day, I had just put my feet up. What the heck is plastic? I think I'll go look at a house in Tujunga tomorrow. Altered gravitational pull. Study the heavens. What's heaven? It's good I'm getting air tonight. What else? I haven't really eaten yet tonight. Let's see. I ate that pork with some tortillas and two PB and Js. No cereal. No fruit. Someone is playing music downstairs. Crap, I feel so beat right now. What'll I eat? Or should I just go to bed without eating? There's chick music down there, and I heard talking which usually involves a second party. What else? Should I go to the bottom of this page? Or the next? It was hard just to get to here.
posted by johnz at 6:49 PM
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