5:45 PM I've got fifteen minutes to kill before class. I left the book I'm reading at home, so I guess I'll just write here to kill time, although I'm not feeling too enthusiastic about it. As I drove up, a group of little cholos on a jungle gym was mooning an old woman as I walked up to school. Listening to the Dodgers suck on my little flashlight radio. I see some of my students walking to class. The traffic files its ways along Arlington. A dog sits obstinately on Fifteenth Street. Life's pretty dull. Not much to inspire. Ten minutes to go. What else? I had peanut butter on my face, and my belt was undone while I turned in my paperwork late to teach summer school and was summarily warned by the Asst. Principal. I didn't notice myself until I was back out at the car. I wonder if they noticed. My fly was down while I went to get lunch today, too. No one said anything. Maybe they didn't see. Plastic pink flamingos stand idly above the weeds in a fenced yard with a hand-painted FOR RENT sign.

M 4-28 12:08 PM
What a shame that this has just become something to get out of the way during random minutes of free time. I'm at my desk. It's lunch time. I told Muniz I'd come by to see if I could figure out why her printer didn't work, but I got lunch and worked on the crossword puzzle, and now I'm doing this. My wrist has been sore lately. There's a big lump at the joint. I bet I have repetitive stress syndrome. A metacarpal tunnel injury. The bell just rang. I have pick up the kids. I can finish this while they do their math.
I have to call my grandparents when I get home. Clean my desk, pay my bills. Go to the LACAS office to turn in my time card and summer school verification. The Dodgers are on TV at 4:30. I can watch the first few innings. I've got to finish my household chores at some point. Laundry, bathroom needs cleaning. We need to hire a cleaning lady.
I had a chicken patty sandwich for lunch. I squirted two packets of mayo on the bun. I was bummed there was no ranch dressing. I had to use disgusting thousand island.
I saw Mario wasn't practicing his fraction-adding skills. I said, "Mario, if I look up again and see you wasting time, I'll have to put you under the sad face."
He said, "But Zurn, I'm under the happy face."
"I'll erase you then."
"Okay."
Twenty seconds later he went across the room to goof off with Alejandra. I erased him. I said, "Mario, you better get on a baseball team..." I weighed what I was about to say with slight hesitation, "...because if you have to use your brains for a living, you might not get very far." He went back to his seat. He worked about half a minute and then started playing with a top.
What else? I've got Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. When I'm done, I'll read more of the Frey essay. Mario gave me a sticker of an imitation Wiley Coyote, clutching an imitation Road Runner by the neck, holding a mallet, and the caption says, "Yurass."
We saw a play called "Dos Amigos" about how a Spanish-speaking immigrant from Mexico and an English-speaking white American become friends.
I've got to clean off this desk here at school. Think about leaving. Tomorrow I meet with Pam, the Principal. She wants to persuade me to stay. It's much better for me if I go. She has to let me go.
Twenty minutes to PE. We'll play softball. I guess that does it for today.

A Couple of Dicks Playing Pool

Su April 27 6:55 PM
The GIP and I are sitting here on the sperm-drenched sofa watching the Dodgers blow it to the Marlins. I just finished the Sunday crossword. We're going downstairs to BBQ Carlin's left overs for dinner.
I had pasta with rabbit last night at Twin Palms for mom's birthday. Mardi mad the cheerleading squad. Too bad, I say. I gave KD and McGee twenty bucks each. Isabella is adorable. Oscar and I had some Spanish conversation. I was telling Jean about the significance of the gate in the wall and she proceeded to tell me about how she didn't like Koreans. So much for my little cultural harmony illustration. Mom got a little weepy when she read the card I gave her. Wes said the bracelet I gave her made him look bad. After we ate, Mac, and his date Lori, and Bernie and Ryan and I went to the Thirty-Fiver. I won the dart game on a masterful two shots for triple twenty and red bull to defeat my boastful brother. There were a couple of dicks playing pool. When they finished their game, it was my turn. But they had their own names on the board three times in a row: Gick, Gus and Cesar. They expected to play three games in a row. I explained to them that the proper etiquette did not allow for two players to play each other consecutively with people waiting to play. Otherwise, I said, I could write JZ on the board over and over again and control the table all night. They were unswayed by this information. My adrenaline got up. I couldn't stand the dick's face. I said, "Now, I've got to decide whether or not it's worth kicking your dumb ass so that you might learn something that'll help you grow up." He shrugged. The bouncer came over. The dicks bailed, flipping their cigarettes at the table.
I rode home with Mac and his date in her state-of-the-art Suburban. The BBQ party here was dead. Mac and Lori left. Bernie and Ryan looked through my photos. They stayed the night. I went downstairs. I was schooling thre room in Pictionary when Shirelle showed. There was the ususal drama. She couldn't just chill and let me finish my game. She got in her car to leave. I said, "Why don't you just chill and have a beer?" "I thought I was just picking you up," she whined.