8-17 5:20 PM Su
The Guatemalan Insanity Pepper and I are sitting at the back of the bar at the Dublin.  I'm having an Irish coffee; he's having a Lite beer, a club sandwich, french fries, and potato soup.  It's Happy Hour: Dollar-off drinks.  The Cards and Braves are on one tv.  I'm competing on the National Trivia Network on another.  Might play some pool before we go.  We've just come from the checking out the G.I.P.'s new house in Hawthorne.  Nice enough 'hood.  Well-maintained lawns.  Bars and restaurants and mall and movies within walking distance.  Other NTN players are starting to show.  I wish I was high.  I borrowed this pencil from Simon, the English-accented bartender.  Footage from the early Russian space program shows on one of the tvs.  The Steelers are playing the Lions on another.  I finished my Irish whiskey.  I feel good and jumpy now.  On the bar sits a video game, the object of which is to put together a puzzle of a photo of a bare-breasted woman. 

[Pencil drawing of a neon saxophone/Heinekken sign] [Pencil drawing of a neon harp/DRAUGHT GUINNESS sign]  McGwire is up.  I want him to crush a homer.  He grounded out.  I'm taking on a nerd brain-trust that comes every night and knows all the questions.  But I'm right there.  A handsome girl has sat with the brain trust.  CUERVO GOLD UNTAMED SPIRIT.  Here we go!  The GIP keeps telling me wrong answers.  I'm not listening to him, though.  I won the last game and came in #38 in the nation, out of some fifteen thousand players, fourth-best score in the bar this month.  Meh.  ~~~~~I've crossed Sunset to Bar Marmont.  The bartender just poured me an eight-dollar glass of wine.  The cost of the wine included the fact that superstar wildman, John Belushi OD'd in the hotel here, and Jim Morrison legendarily hung from a ninth floor window.  What next?  I let the Gip take the car.  Where to walk to?  Coach and Horse?  Toi?  Shirelle's?  Crazy Girls?  Cab?  If I stay here longer, if I buy another drink, will I make any valuable friendships?  I'm out of cash.  I'm not going to use my credit card, so--no.  Time to walk.  Hit the ATM across the street.  This place is fuckin' snooty.  I should at least ask some kind of question of somebody, some attempt at interaction beyond ordering my glass of wine.  So I asked the bus boy why they put ice in the urinals.  I asked him in Spanish.  He said because people don't flush, the ice keeps it from smelling bad.  ~~~~~From Crazy Girls on La Brea now.  Waitress has a black eye.  Dancer struggling to overcome boredom as she struts around the pole.  Butterflies in my stomach watching.

Hollywood Hills Parties and Spring Rainbows in Death Valley

8-16 10:03 PM Sa
Dimona Leonides' place on Sycamore.  The gang assembles for a birthday party in Hollywood Hills: Yuri, Rikki Bazaar, a red-head named James, another guy I've seen many times whose name I don't know, another guy I just met whose name I forgot.   Dimona's an art dealer (though I believe her parents bankroll her existence), and her apartment shows it. Her photos, paintings and drawings adorn the walls, many of them her own works.  We're waiting on Derek and "four Italian guys."  They're playing a lot of rap and funk.  The energy level peaked for five minutes when the Italians walked in, but now a mellow chill has set over the room.  Some guy raps to the "Rocky" pre-fight bell chime music.  A crossword puzzle dictionary waits on a New Times newspaper on an Ottoman.  Rikki Bazaar wears a Giants t-shirt and stares solemnly into the air.  Yuri and James bump fists.  I feel apart from the cameraderie.  I feel like I'm home in bed seeing this through mental projection.  Dimona's photos show freeway overpass intersections from below in black and white.  There's that ache in my shoulder.  We've just come back from Rawler and An's baby shower.  Sh'relle and I went to K-Mart this morning and argued over what to get, and I walked away while she picked out a stroller, I was just thinking of buying some pajamas.  I found some shirts on sale for seven ninety-nine and bought seven of them.  I ended up giving Steve and An a framed photograph I took of a rainbow just beginning to form on the first day of spring in Death Valley.  Get it?  What an amazing baby shower gift, right?  The birth of a rainbow on the first day of Spring in Death Valley!  They liked the stroller much more, of course; the photo was summarily placed aside.  Now the rap mishmash falls into the background of David Bowie's "Let's Dance."  Jeremy, the would-be alternative rockstar, has walked in the door.  Jeri, the recovering heroin junky, has arrived in a Gothic black dress.  Shirelle recounts the story of Dimona trying on pants which the salesgirl says are the best yet, but Dimona turns to the salesgirls and says, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

A ticket stub to the Fri Aug 29 1997 7:05 PM game at 3COM Park (Candlestick) between the Giants and the Rangers in San Fransico, Lower Reserve section

8-15 1:09 PM
I'm ta the donut shop on La Brea and Olympic.  Cars stream by.  A girl waits at the bus stop.  Fake leopard, zebra and cow skins hang on a line at a car upholstery place across the street.  There's a pizza place, a food mart, newspaper stands, an empty lot, a Spanish-tiled church...Inside here are faded posters glorifying frosted donuts.  Palms and eucalypti shiver over the roofs of the houses on the next block.  Korean dialog babbles off the tv the proprietress watches.  An under-watered plant yellows and browns around the edges of its leaves.  At the bus stop is a poster for the Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts movie, "Conspiracy".  Shirelle called this morning to say very emotionally that she needs me.  I already had plans.  Mariachi is waiting for me to call.  I'll walk back home now and finish this elsewhere. 
Now Pablo and I are in the club house at Rancho Park.  I'm having a beer.  He's sipping his coffee.  We're on the call sheet.  It might be another forty-five minutes or so.  We both ate tuna salad sandwiches.  This room has almost no soul.  The walls have some framed golf cartoons and some beer ads, but seem bare nonetheless.    We went to ucla to drop a book off at the library.  There was road construction the whole way.    What else?    Should I order a Wild Turkey?  The bartender's tits are killing me.  No bra.  Nipples evident.  She's plum and soft.  Short shirt shows Betty Boop's dog tattooed to one side of her pierced belly button.  She plays to all who walk into the room.  What else?  She's telling a golfer she went to a titty bar with her brother.  ESPN is on the big screen tv.  You can see the outline of her butt-floss underwear through the thin fabric of her blue-flowered skirt.  She's showing off the tattoo on her back now, lifting her shirt.  "What is it?" asks an old duffer laying his finger upon it.  "It's a rose," she says.  "A black rose.  It's death." 

For the life of me I cannot recall why we thought we were wise and would never compromise we were merely freshman

Bar Marmont

August 14, Thursday, 10:16 AM
Outside room ten, in a kind of atrium sort of with an opening to see the blue sky through the architectural X which supports the rest of the ceiling.  There is an easel here, kid-height.  There are paint stains on the table where I'm writing.  I can hear the cacaphony of an elementary school playground echo its way here off the maze of stuccoed walls.  The Assistant Principal is in a blue dress talking to some parents under the sunshine in the courtyard.  The bell has just rung and Mr. Hernandez will soon  bring Shirley, Jackson, Angel, William, Jose, Luis, and Roberto.  Here they are now.  They painted self portraits.  Mr. Hernandez did one of me.  I almost went to a rare weekday Dodger game today.  Oh, well.  Starting tomorrow, I have seventeen consecutive days off.  The kids surround me at the table.  What am I doing? they want to know.  Do I draw pictures? they ask.  Can I bring them journals?  Sure, I say.  Mr. Hernandez sent Luis, Beto, and Jose to stand against the wall.  Luis is chanting something.  I call him over.   "What's up?" I ask.  "My nose," he says, and scratches it.  "Why don't you get a tissue and blow it," I say.  The Angels will be on the radio from Milwaukee at eleven.  I called Beto over.  "What's up?  Tell me something to write."  He says, "Eh?" and points to his name in this book.  "What should I write?"  He sticks his Casper the Friendly Ghost watch in my face.  Jose is dancing in the corner.  Luis is laughing.  Mr. Hernandez is reading a book with a tape called Five Fine Musicians.  Jose's dance has become a jig.

8-3 11:15 AM W
The Science Lab at Leo Politi.  T.A. Hernandez is leading the aphasia kids and Ms. Alvarez's class in construction of low-budget kaleidescopes.  Everyone is helping out, except me, who somewhat conspicuously does nothing.  Ms. Alvarez is nice, friendly and involved.  I must appall her, with my do-nothing stance. 
I brought a microwave meal for lunch in a half hour.  After school today, I'll do some more frame shopping.  Robinson/May is having a sale on frames.  I'm not sure where one is around here, except I think there's one downtown.  I'll go to Aaron Brothers on La Brea today.  Got to teach night school tonight.  Shirelle will be coming over.  Friday is probably pay day.  I'm done reading the newspaper today.  I've got about another eighty pages of McMichael poems .  The microwave just dang.  I took out my roast turkey medallions and mushrooms in sauce and blew on each bite before eating it.  It's gone now.  I'm still hungry.  I'll wait until after school and have a grilled cheese and celery with peanut butter.  Before I go up to Aaron's.  There's a flag on the bulletin board here in the teacher's lounge.  It is a parody of the Raider logo and the Jolly Roger.  Instead of a skull and crossbones, it has an upside-down schoolhouse and crossbones; and instead of "Commitment to Excellence" it says, "Commitment to Ignorance."  It must have been for some ballot initiative, referendun, propostion propaganda.  I think I will take it when no one's in there.  What else?  The poems are getting boring.  It's some kind of British port during the industrial revolution, McMichael addressing his ancestors I guess.  What else?  I didn't last long enough for Shirelle last night.  What else?  I'll call the credit union to do a balance inquiry on my checking account.  I wonder if I saved any money.  I have to call Jose's mom.  I'm still supposed to call Jackson's mom, too.  Got KLON on the radio here.  Some gentle jazz.  When the kids come back, I'll slap in "Jungle Cat."  After that, there will still be an hour before I can bail.  I wish I could fast forward through tomorrow.  I'll read those poems as best I can next.  They're so boring, I'm not paying much attention.

Aphasia

11: A 8-12 Tu
I forgot my lunch again.  I took it out of the freezer, but I left it on the kitchen table when I left for school.  I have no money.  I only ate a plum for breakfast.  I finished the paper.  I was reading it when the principal walked in.  Doh!  The crossword was hard for me today.  I'll price frames at Fast Frame and Gray Goose after school today.  I'll look for an ATM at lunch.  I might have to go to Wilshire and Normandie unless maybe-- isn't there a Seven Eleven on eighth?  Shirelle's coming over for dinner after she gets off "Baywatch" tonight.
 Jose just ate glue.  I saw him put it in his mouth.  I said, "You ate glue?"  He shook his head and said, "No."  He has yellow snot coming out of one nostril.  I gave him a tissue, but he keeps putting it on his shirt.  I say, "Jose, do you have any brothers and sisters?"
 He said, "Yeah."
 I said, "How many?" 
He said, "One."
 I said, "A brother or a sister?" 
He said, "Yeah." 
"Is it a boy or a girl?" I tried again.  
He said, "Yeah."
 Angel said, "He has a boy and a girl." 
I say, "Jose, how does the glue taste?" 
He said, "No."  He farted. 

Now I'm in a place called El Jarrito on Olympic near Vermont.  It's pretty autentico.  Chips, salsa, sour cream, and water waiting for me when I get back from the bathroom.  A guy is talking about Pancho Villa's wife.  There are cops in here, city councilmen, lawyers, etc.; looks like a real LA fixture. 
I just finished eating.  The food here is good.  The service excellent.  The prices reasonable.  It's fattened me up.  Now if I can just get through the next two and a half hours without anyone catching me doing nothing.  It's time to go back. 
Angel and I just finished the Spiderman puzzle.  William calls Angel, "Yah-hey."  Angel is setting up the checkerboard.  William is gluing the words for the different colors under pictures of the things that represent those colors.  He pastes the word "orange" under a picture of a pumpkin.  Yay!

I Should Be on Death Row Today

11:30 A 8-11 M What happened?  A go-postal day.  I wanted to murder everyone in Denny's.  A force of nature, an Act of God. I should-- like I should be on Death Row today.  I had to get out of there and come to Bob's.  I've got my newspaper.  I ordered coffee and eggs over-medium.  I don't know what I'm doing here.  There was plenty of food in the fridge.

Mother Butler Desserts.  Is that desserts like "bails on" or like in "just desserts"?  Before I saw her, I felt that girl's legs go by from way over here and turned around to have a look.  Tony Phillips got busted for cocaine.  Puritans over-react as usual.  My mom's friend Sharon's son who we played with sometimes when we were kids, when they were young divorcee waitresses at Fleet Street, Billy, is in prison for counterfeiting. 

A Short Lifetime Lived But Once

8-8 F 9:15 AM
We're writing in our journals.  I was singing "O Susanna" and Jose started dancing around.  Jose, the hyperactive first-grader.  I forgot to pack a lunch.  I read the sports page instead.  Maybe I'll try El Jarrito.  Carlin was talking to Glorious on the phone when I went out to shut the gate.  She said, "It's John," from the window.  "Who are you talking to?" I asked.  "Rach," I thought she said, but I said, "Who?" and she said, "Glorious."  It may have been Rachel.  They may have been playing some girl games to test my reaction.  She said, "Glorious wants to play pool."  I said, "What time will she be here?"  She laughed.  "This weekend.  She's going to go to Stevo's."  Hmmm.  Thank God there's no night school tonight.  I'll type and read and watch baseball and play guitar.  Glorious.  What else?  Can I make it all the way to then without Shirelle's hass?
I'm not hungry enough to go out to lunch.  I guess I'll just stay here and work on this.  Then I'll read my poems.  When to go to O.C.?  What about Vanessa's dress?  Whose feelings are going to get hurt?  Feelings--bah!  Guilt, though.  A lifetime to live.  A short lifetime lived but once.  I can make a grilled cheese when I get home.  Thing said he liked the rollercoaster photo.  He said he liked the LA drawing, too.  I have to call Jackson Santos' mom and tell her to talk to the AP, Mrs. Rodrigues, about transferring Jackson.  Three hours more and I'll be free.  My stomach is growling now.  Maybe I should get a slice of school-cafeteria pizza.  I have to call Mariachi.  I've had so much nothing to say for so long.  Giant flying cockroaches.  Our VCR broke.  A guy in the lunch room said everyone was wearing shorts now thanks to me.  The kids will be back from their lunch in five minutes.  I thought about smoking the joint in my bag.