6-3 Tu 2:00

I'm sitting on a high stool at a high table on the sidewalk in front of Rita Flora. A meter creep was about to ticket a Saturn when the old guy who owns it came out and started arguing against the ticket because the meter was, he claimed, out of order. "You're out of order, too," I threw out hoping the meter creep knew it was directed at him, but I only offered it in passing. I'm waiting for a tune-up and oil change on the Chrysler at the Firestone Service Center down La Brea. I called Amtrak today. The train ride alone will cost $379 to Spokane. Ugh. A girl with one of those trendy-ass tattoos showing on the small of her back, one that disappears down into her pants to the crack of her ass, presumably, is smoking a cigarette that the wind keeps blowing my way. The waitress just brought a menu and an iced tea. The guy at Firestone said my car would be ready around three, three thirty. What should I eat? Pasta here? Golden Bird? McDonald's? Home spaghetti? Nothing? There goes an ambulance.

[stylize drawing of] DIZZY HARD Los Angeles

They drop a sprig of mint leaf in your iced tea here. American [upside-down question mark]QUE[accent on the 'E']

There's an orange carnation in a round glass of water 

[sketch in navy ink of flower in bowl of water]

No one else is sitting out here now.

[Some kind of Satanic little fuck-up will not allow me to change the fonts halfway through the entry]

There's an old Rambler parked at the curb with a bulldog painting in back. 

[the gas station logo:] 76

In class now several hours later. I succumbed to the siren song of Golden Bird. My belly distends a little further.

I'm already clenching sphynx against flatulence. What else? I'll walk to Shirelle's tonight. I'll walk back tomorrow. Tomorrow: Call Mary to let her know I want to work the next two weeks. Write, of course. Make spaghetti. Pray for the car. Work. Go to LA High with tie early. Go to John Burroughs. Go to Hoover. Go Go GO Fuck Fuck Fuck You step in front of a car. Accused of hit and run. Ninety miles an hour girl that's the way I drive. Tire Tracks all across your back.