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
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
posted by johnz at 8:42 PM
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