Some Nights Are Better Than Others

April 9 W 10:30
What a night. Where do I start? It was one of those rare nights where y0u know the girls are going to go home and jack off to you for a change. I should have invited them to spend the night and blown off this godamned retreat. When we got to the Whiskey, I was a little high. We got a parking spot right in front of the door. I even had change for the meter. Thing eased her right in. There was a hot, hot, hot little number groovin' to the music at the front door. She didn't work there, but she said she had to frisk me when I walked in. She patted me down. I said, "Who's frisking you?" She raised her arms over her head, only one button on her blouse fastened.  I pawed her a bit.  Her stomach was flat and smooth and soft and hard. She danced a Salome around me to "Hotel California" on the jukebox at the Coach and Horses later. She was writhing all around me, grinding her ass against my crotch, her hair was in my mouth. I ran my hands up and down her sides and over that beautiful tummy.
The Gutierrez brothers' band was good. They looked and sounded good, but Rawler seemed a little nervous, like who could blame him for having things on his mind with a kid on the way and a new house to move into and pay for, etc. I had a Bud Light at the Whiskey and spoke to Joel and Duke and Pete and Stevo and An. Stevo pointed out a group of girls among whom was the vixen from the door and said he heard them say they wanted to dance with me. I took it with a grain of salt, but kept an eye on them. Then I decided to butt in and got the vixen's name: Anita. She was sexy and wild, but she reminded me of a white Shirelle. A girl that hot had to be trouble. Still after the show, we lingered out front together, and we told them we were going to the Coach and Horses, and I didn't expect to see them again, but they wandered in around my second drink or so. I put 'em through the inquisition, got names, ages, hometowns: Kelly, Amy, Amber were nineteen and twenty and lived in Orange County and worked at Starbucks. They said Anita was engaged to a guy from Def Leppard, but she was running around giving out hard-ons with her dancing. I waited. I acted smug for a few beers, handed out jesting denigrations. She went nuts with my inattention and came over and I did her right. Mike Welch bought me a beer. I asked if anyone knew Sanyo Manson, cuz a crowd there went to school with her. Jimmy Nivy said he knew her. I dropped to my knee and clutched my heart. I said, I loved her, and my best buddy was blowing it with her, but I didn't think I should get in the middle yet. They said, "Fuck your buddy! Go get her!" Lisa Bailey gave me her e-mail address. I said I'd send her long weird e-mails. She seemed pleased. She seemed attracted to me. I walked her out. I said good-bye to Amy, Amber, Kelly, and Anita, naming each one. Kelly said, "You're good. You are really good."
Some nights are better than others.

4-8 Tu 11:40 AM
I've got a shitload of crap to do today. It's so tedious. I don't even want to go into it. We had our Shake 97 earthquake drill. I was on a team that had to do a mock search and rescue of the school. I couldn't find the button on the walkie-talkie to talk. It was pretty embarrassing. I proved my ineptitude to all involved. We're supposed to have emergency cards to hang around the neck of each child. I have zero. I've got to set up a dozen computers in room two. I'm going to send my kids to PE with Ms. Ortega while I run around school moving computers to room two to set up the lab. Then I've got to go to the Shake 97 follow-up staff meeting; you know that will last forever with idiots turning minor concerns into hour-long debates. Meanwhile, I've got to ask the Tech Ed guy to take a look at my computer. The class goes until five, but I can't stay that long because I have to teach my class at six and it takes a half hour to get from Pacoima to LA. Plus I've got to pick up my prescription today, no matter what. And I forgot I have to make some copies and get lesson plans ready for both subs because I have to go to a stupid-ass five-day retreat to talk about racial, gender and cultural issues which I don't give a damn about. I've to spend the night there tomorrow and Thursday. Ugh. Tonight's the thing at the Whiskey with Rawler's band. I'm fucked. I'll be a wreck the rest of the week, and when I come back to those kids after five days it will take two weeks to re-establish order. I've got to make up five days of lesson plans, plus two for night school. When will I learn to say no?
I woke up thinking of Rochelle. I want to invite her to a Dodger game. And I already detailed the Bowl ticket quest. Now that I'll be in jail for the next two days, I'm handcuffed to plan my weekend. Ack ick urg blat fuck. The kids are copying a chapter. I was going to show the Hank Aaron video, but they were talking and I got a short fuse today, so I assigned them this to do instead.
I just want to smoke pot. I'll go through withdrawals at this stupid retreat. Like jail. Ugh. Too much shit. How can I write with this much bullshit to think of? My resentment looms large. Kathleen called. I was on the treadmill listening to the Dodgers, watching the Angels, talk to Kathleen with the newspaper in my hand and I overheard Bayless and Carlin remark that it was amazing. "Look, he's listening to us, too," Carlin said.

I think this is book number fourteen, but I'll have to count them to be sure. I still have to tell my principal what pupil-free days my track has selected. After school I'm thinking I'll go by the Hollywood Bowl box office and pick up some tickets for a concert so I can bring Rachel. Should I get two or four? Classic or Jazz? I've got to hang up what laundry I've done and finish the last couple of loads. I've to go to the LACAS office and turn in my time sheet and attendance. I've to go to the library and check out the "Jackie Robinson Story" to show my kids. What else? It's sunny today. Mr. Grey's seeds are starting to sprout in the garden out in front of the class. I've got the sports page open under this journal. The Yankees lost. The kids are writing pretty intently. Just ---
Monday April 7 9:09 AM
The kids are writing in their journals. Few whispers here and there. What else? I've got to go to the bathroom. Tomorrow I have to organize a computer training. I'll have to put a bunch of computers in a room. Then I've got to teach my night school class. Then I've got to see the Gutierrez brothers' band Ol' Peculier at the Whiskey.
I feel alright today. Should I thank Rachel and Carlin? Actually, that girl could lead to a lot of heartache, but don't they all have that potential? I just want to get settled into a home with a trustworthy woman. - OK What else? I get a lot of funny looks around here at school now. There are some rumors going around now, I think, thanks to my lunchtime performance with Marti at the Sheraton last week. Maybe I should get a--what? I don't know. I'd like to lose about five pounds. Maybe I should weigh myself in the nurse's office. I was telling Mrs. Kaplan, Mrs. Guellar, Mrs. Gordon, and Ms. Gonzalez that I smoke pot almost every day. Marti pinched my thigh under the table and opened her eyes wide at me. Later she pinched me when I wasn't saying anything. She made like she wanted to bone. "You going to get us a room?" I said. She said, "I would if you had blue eyes. Get some contacts."
I had a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast. I had a sausage in a blanket when I got to school. There will be chicken patty sandwiches for lunch. Maybe I should wait until after school and got a torta at that Mexican place on La Brea I've been meaning to try. What else? The kids have gone to recess. I've got to plan today's math lesson.