6-4 W 12:45 PM
At some sidewalk cafe on Beverly near La Brea. I read the Times here where I stopped on my walk to Shirelle's. The sky threatens a rare June thunderstorm. A guy walks by talking on his sell phone. Five lines and here we are at a "What the hell else?" I'll walk home and be there by two at the latest. Wasting so much time with the newspaper is sort of a blow-it as far as finding a new school to work at. I've got some phone calls to make, and I ought to dress and visit Hoover. Too bad I have to work tonight? How did I get by without the income before? How I'm barely making it now? I can't wait to have these dumb-ass credit cards paid off. I need to start more correspondences. Email publications.
[scripted font, much bigger G extending below the others, all caps:]GOLD. I realy enjoy this McCarthy book. ~~There is not a fucking thing going on within or without. It's muggy ~ There's a woman with a "Rosie O'Donnel" hat on. My molars hurt. There's a nice-looking girl with a notebook looking for a place to sit. She looked at my writing and smiled and walked off and sat somewhere else. A guy just walked by with a top hat and a suit and shirt and tie with stripes clashing in all directions. I need to converse more. I should have invited the girl to sit here, but I have no time, right?
[scripted font, much bigger G extending below the others, all caps:]GOLD. I realy enjoy this McCarthy book. ~~There is not a fucking thing going on within or without. It's muggy ~ There's a woman with a "Rosie O'Donnel" hat on. My molars hurt. There's a nice-looking girl with a notebook looking for a place to sit. She looked at my writing and smiled and walked off and sat somewhere else. A guy just walked by with a top hat and a suit and shirt and tie with stripes clashing in all directions. I need to converse more. I should have invited the girl to sit here, but I have no time, right?
I'll make spaghetti.
[Script:] I CHanged.[] There goes a rabbi. There are yarmulkes all over, actually. What the flying motherfuck else? I have a St. Paul baseball shirt on that Pablo Mariachi gave to Shirelle. I swapped with her temporarily because my Vancouver shirt was damp with sweat from marching the three miles or so up to her place last night. It seems crazy to walk across Los Angeles and Hollywood at such an hour as I did last night, but the streets are well-lighted and the traffic constant. I feel no danger. I saw one hooker. Three and a half more lines and I'm done. I'm looking all around for what to write. It's just cars and concrete and stores.
[Script:] I CHanged.[] There goes a rabbi. There are yarmulkes all over, actually. What the flying motherfuck else? I have a St. Paul baseball shirt on that Pablo Mariachi gave to Shirelle. I swapped with her temporarily because my Vancouver shirt was damp with sweat from marching the three miles or so up to her place last night. It seems crazy to walk across Los Angeles and Hollywood at such an hour as I did last night, but the streets are well-lighted and the traffic constant. I feel no danger. I saw one hooker. Three and a half more lines and I'm done. I'm looking all around for what to write. It's just cars and concrete and stores.
posted by johnz at 7:26 PM
1 Comments:
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