7-7-97 M 10:26 PM
I'm going to bed early tonight so I can get a good night's rest so I can stay up 'til midnight the rest of the week even though I have to get up at six or so each day so I can sub at Leo Politi. I wrote a half a page of Aaron's sex recollection. Shirelle just waltzed in with a Big Mac and an ice cream and slapped on the TV while I was writing. How often will I have to suppress the idea of strangling her? I e-mailed Julia about my affinity with the coyote. I'm reading The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination by Wallace Stevens and The Shipping News by Annie Proulx and Writing Through Darkness. Aaron's playing Twister with two teenage girls while cookies bake. He can't get his holster off. Puck the toy poodle is here. When Shirelle called, I said, "What are you bringing me?" She said, "I'm bringing you the cootchee." What else? I'm lying in bed now. She's in here now, too. She said, "What's wrong?" I said, "Nothing. I just think you're a little rude marching in here with your McDonald's and slapping on the TV while I'm writing. The bitch says, "Oh, so now I'm not allowed to eat or watch TV in front of you." It must take some supreme effort, unmatched will power, for here to forget every day that I write.
I've got to set the alarm for six twenty. Another coyote trap. I'll do my fifteen minutes and eat watermelon for breakfast. Today I ate a plum and thought of William Carlos Williams. I wrote a letter of recommendation for Prinicipal Sasada. I sent photos to my dad and grandparents. Maybe I can get that 'ninety-two stuff out of the way in the morning, too. I've got to do a better job at night school. Tomorrow is the Major League All-Star Game. I haven't missed one in decades, but tomorrow I have to teach. I asked the Gip to tape it. I should skip lunch and read and write instead tomorrow. Will Amber sit on Aaron's little penis? What else? Tengo hambre. I can make PB&J for breakfast. or a can of chili. Why's the dog barking?
I'm going to bed early tonight so I can get a good night's rest so I can stay up 'til midnight the rest of the week even though I have to get up at six or so each day so I can sub at Leo Politi. I wrote a half a page of Aaron's sex recollection. Shirelle just waltzed in with a Big Mac and an ice cream and slapped on the TV while I was writing. How often will I have to suppress the idea of strangling her? I e-mailed Julia about my affinity with the coyote. I'm reading The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination by Wallace Stevens and The Shipping News by Annie Proulx and Writing Through Darkness. Aaron's playing Twister with two teenage girls while cookies bake. He can't get his holster off. Puck the toy poodle is here. When Shirelle called, I said, "What are you bringing me?" She said, "I'm bringing you the cootchee." What else? I'm lying in bed now. She's in here now, too. She said, "What's wrong?" I said, "Nothing. I just think you're a little rude marching in here with your McDonald's and slapping on the TV while I'm writing. The bitch says, "Oh, so now I'm not allowed to eat or watch TV in front of you." It must take some supreme effort, unmatched will power, for here to forget every day that I write.
I've got to set the alarm for six twenty. Another coyote trap. I'll do my fifteen minutes and eat watermelon for breakfast. Today I ate a plum and thought of William Carlos Williams. I wrote a letter of recommendation for Prinicipal Sasada. I sent photos to my dad and grandparents. Maybe I can get that 'ninety-two stuff out of the way in the morning, too. I've got to do a better job at night school. Tomorrow is the Major League All-Star Game. I haven't missed one in decades, but tomorrow I have to teach. I asked the Gip to tape it. I should skip lunch and read and write instead tomorrow. Will Amber sit on Aaron's little penis? What else? Tengo hambre. I can make PB&J for breakfast. or a can of chili. Why's the dog barking?
posted by johnz at 2:10 PM
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