W 7-9 12:25 PM
I'm at the desk in bungalow thirty-three at Leo Politi school again. When I'm done here, I'm going for the BLT I signed up for in the cafeteria, even though Petra, one of my adult school students remarked last night that I was "gordo." Shirelle said she would make dinner for me tonight. I have work to do on Jim and Aaron, which is great. By the end of the week, I may get up to page thirty-five. I really have made progress in the last year, really have sharpened my focus and increased my output.
Yesterday while we were playing basketball, Mayra nailed me in the face with the ball and broke my sunglasses off my head while I turned to two kids who had found a pack of Zigzag rolling papers which they turned over to me. My nose still hurts. What else? I have to call Jamsey Fane today when I get home. What else? Maybe if I go get my BLT and come back, I'll have something else. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner.
[Here is drawn a picture of Old Glory in pencil, hanging limp at a forty-five-degree angle with the top flapped gently down across the middle]. Today I learned that the melody is derived from an old English drinking song. Dang! What else? After I call Jamsey Fane, Amber is going to sit on Aaron's lap, nude. Mr. Smith will walk in. Melanie's family moves to St. George. Amber runs away from home. Aaron is counseled. The remark of ruination.
[Here is drawn the cartoon ox head on the Elmer's Glue logo]. Jim's comment about fingerbanging. What else? Some girls are in the room now hiding from boys looking through the window. I just finished my BLT. I have a little bit of a sore throat. I'll read some more Writing Through Darkness when I'm done Wallace Stevens, whose poems I like so well, writes stilted pompous, dated, boring essays about the relationship between poetry and philosophy. I've been reading it in bed, the last thing I do before turning off the lamp. The bell rang. I have to go out to the playground and pick up the students. Hopefully we can have some silent reading. A tall slender palm shoots up out of the blacktop. I can't see its fronds out the window it's so tall.
I'm at the desk in bungalow thirty-three at Leo Politi school again. When I'm done here, I'm going for the BLT I signed up for in the cafeteria, even though Petra, one of my adult school students remarked last night that I was "gordo." Shirelle said she would make dinner for me tonight. I have work to do on Jim and Aaron, which is great. By the end of the week, I may get up to page thirty-five. I really have made progress in the last year, really have sharpened my focus and increased my output.
Yesterday while we were playing basketball, Mayra nailed me in the face with the ball and broke my sunglasses off my head while I turned to two kids who had found a pack of Zigzag rolling papers which they turned over to me. My nose still hurts. What else? I have to call Jamsey Fane today when I get home. What else? Maybe if I go get my BLT and come back, I'll have something else. We sang the Star-Spangled Banner.
[Here is drawn a picture of Old Glory in pencil, hanging limp at a forty-five-degree angle with the top flapped gently down across the middle]. Today I learned that the melody is derived from an old English drinking song. Dang! What else? After I call Jamsey Fane, Amber is going to sit on Aaron's lap, nude. Mr. Smith will walk in. Melanie's family moves to St. George. Amber runs away from home. Aaron is counseled. The remark of ruination.
[Here is drawn the cartoon ox head on the Elmer's Glue logo]. Jim's comment about fingerbanging. What else? Some girls are in the room now hiding from boys looking through the window. I just finished my BLT. I have a little bit of a sore throat. I'll read some more Writing Through Darkness when I'm done Wallace Stevens, whose poems I like so well, writes stilted pompous, dated, boring essays about the relationship between poetry and philosophy. I've been reading it in bed, the last thing I do before turning off the lamp. The bell rang. I have to go out to the playground and pick up the students. Hopefully we can have some silent reading. A tall slender palm shoots up out of the blacktop. I can't see its fronds out the window it's so tall.
posted by johnz at 8:55 AM
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