Sat Tu July 1 5:05 El Cid
The pen feels tiny in my big clumsy hands. It's a definite pull-off-your-clothes-and-run-naked day. The waitress' hair is a present with carrots and jicama. The trees look like erections. ENISIUC XEM
CLOSED CERRADO (rough line sketch) MARTINI LOUNGE Zumaya
7-2-97
I'm at Domenico's in Pasadena. Picked up the credit card I left here two weeks ago. I had Chinese at the Hong Kong Cafe next to the pot shop on Cahuenga. The car is fixed. It cost four hundred dollars to get the window and rack and pinion done, which is a hundred dollars cheaper than it would have been just for the steering at Firestone. I have to hurry cuz the meter is running. Maybe I should down this beer and write the rest in the car. It's hot and smoky in here. I've been reading the Times and playing NTN. I wonder how bad the traffic will be on the way back. I'll cruise past the pot shop again. The Rockies and Rangers are on. The bartender is running my credit card. I hope I don't get a ticket. When I get home I'll do all my typing.
I'm home now. I'm waiting for my computer to boot so I can do my '92 pages and my third person page and my Jim paragraph. Then if there's time, I'll pick up my film and go to a bar. Shall I walk or drive? I feel young. I feel like having some teenage fun. Maybe go to the beach, look for the fun girls. What else? I'm afraid to take a crap because GIP of the bloody underwear and butt pustules sat in there on the toilet twice yesterday.
This part of the world is still a couple of hours from spinning away from the sun. The summer feels liberating. I'm going to buy some black and white film. Maybe I'll crush some stems and try to round up a THC high. I need to buy some bathroom disinfectant and some black and white film and some bread. No one sends me e-mail. Jimmy Stewart died today.
What else? What else? Some day I have to read the Inferno and Paradise Lost. I feel like I'm getting dumb. I don't even know how to converse with people. What else? What else? Maybe I'll drink a beer. Oh, come on. Anything, anything, any old thing. My writing sucks.
The pen feels tiny in my big clumsy hands. It's a definite pull-off-your-clothes-and-run-naked day. The waitress' hair is a present with carrots and jicama. The trees look like erections. ENISIUC XEM
CLOSED CERRADO (rough line sketch) MARTINI LOUNGE Zumaya
7-2-97
I'm at Domenico's in Pasadena. Picked up the credit card I left here two weeks ago. I had Chinese at the Hong Kong Cafe next to the pot shop on Cahuenga. The car is fixed. It cost four hundred dollars to get the window and rack and pinion done, which is a hundred dollars cheaper than it would have been just for the steering at Firestone. I have to hurry cuz the meter is running. Maybe I should down this beer and write the rest in the car. It's hot and smoky in here. I've been reading the Times and playing NTN. I wonder how bad the traffic will be on the way back. I'll cruise past the pot shop again. The Rockies and Rangers are on. The bartender is running my credit card. I hope I don't get a ticket. When I get home I'll do all my typing.
I'm home now. I'm waiting for my computer to boot so I can do my '92 pages and my third person page and my Jim paragraph. Then if there's time, I'll pick up my film and go to a bar. Shall I walk or drive? I feel young. I feel like having some teenage fun. Maybe go to the beach, look for the fun girls. What else? I'm afraid to take a crap because GIP of the bloody underwear and butt pustules sat in there on the toilet twice yesterday.
This part of the world is still a couple of hours from spinning away from the sun. The summer feels liberating. I'm going to buy some black and white film. Maybe I'll crush some stems and try to round up a THC high. I need to buy some bathroom disinfectant and some black and white film and some bread. No one sends me e-mail. Jimmy Stewart died today.
What else? What else? Some day I have to read the Inferno and Paradise Lost. I feel like I'm getting dumb. I don't even know how to converse with people. What else? What else? Maybe I'll drink a beer. Oh, come on. Anything, anything, any old thing. My writing sucks.
posted by johnz at 7:02 PM
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