Pawn Off Shirelle
10-25 Sa 3:50 PM
Tony Brown's Journal - David Chittum, Author of Civil War Two. 212 575 0876
We bipped over to the house for a puff.
10-26 Su 3:50 PM
I can't believe the weekend is over already. I'm on a boat chugging back from Catalina. Shirelle and I went fishing. I caught the same undersized bass three times and one sculpin too small to keep. Only cost me a hundred and ten bucks. Last night, Shirelle and Bernie and her boyfriend, Matt, and I went to a place called Rockin' Taco in Fullerton. Some guy Bernie knew sat down and told us how his wife had left him...for his brother...who had just gotten out of prison...for a murder charge...and said he would kill him... and he has to share custody of his daughter with them. Then we went to some lame bar where some lame singles Halloween party was going on. A great big fat guy asked me if I was trying to pawn off Shirelle. I didn't answer right away, but eventually I said no. The Indians won last night to force Game Seven in the World Series tonight. I'm in a booth right now surrounded by sleeping people. I don't know where the fuck Shirelle went. Maybe she's with the fat guy. She probably wanted to show her displeasure with me for reading the newspaper all night. Who cares that I took her out to dinner last night and then out fishing with me? All instantly forgetten in her toddler's mind. Or maybe she bailed because it smells like greasy shit in here from the head. Hardly anyone caught anything today. A couple good yellowtail and a bonito. The pencil I'm wrriting with broke in half in my back pocket. I did two crossword puzzles. What the fuck else? Back to work tomorrow. I've got kind of a cold. What else?
The water is blue. The sky is white at the horizon. Two ladies talk Spanish. It'll be almost two more hours before we get back to Newport. Then an hour drive home. I'll have to call my mom and tell her since we got no fish, we're just going to go straight home. I can't wait to take a shower. The sea is pretty calm today. I have a dry hack. What the fuck else? Ass and Pussy, Ass and Pussy. We ate McMuffins from McDonald's this morning. What'll I have for dinner? The Spanish ladies stopped talking and put their heads in their arms on the table. This boat is rockin' all us babies to sleep. I'm going to have to ask the guy next to me to move so I can get out of this booth and go look for the ingrate.
Tony Brown's Journal - David Chittum, Author of Civil War Two. 212 575 0876
We bipped over to the house for a puff.
10-26 Su 3:50 PM
I can't believe the weekend is over already. I'm on a boat chugging back from Catalina. Shirelle and I went fishing. I caught the same undersized bass three times and one sculpin too small to keep. Only cost me a hundred and ten bucks. Last night, Shirelle and Bernie and her boyfriend, Matt, and I went to a place called Rockin' Taco in Fullerton. Some guy Bernie knew sat down and told us how his wife had left him...for his brother...who had just gotten out of prison...for a murder charge...and said he would kill him... and he has to share custody of his daughter with them. Then we went to some lame bar where some lame singles Halloween party was going on. A great big fat guy asked me if I was trying to pawn off Shirelle. I didn't answer right away, but eventually I said no. The Indians won last night to force Game Seven in the World Series tonight. I'm in a booth right now surrounded by sleeping people. I don't know where the fuck Shirelle went. Maybe she's with the fat guy. She probably wanted to show her displeasure with me for reading the newspaper all night. Who cares that I took her out to dinner last night and then out fishing with me? All instantly forgetten in her toddler's mind. Or maybe she bailed because it smells like greasy shit in here from the head. Hardly anyone caught anything today. A couple good yellowtail and a bonito. The pencil I'm wrriting with broke in half in my back pocket. I did two crossword puzzles. What the fuck else? Back to work tomorrow. I've got kind of a cold. What else?
The water is blue. The sky is white at the horizon. Two ladies talk Spanish. It'll be almost two more hours before we get back to Newport. Then an hour drive home. I'll have to call my mom and tell her since we got no fish, we're just going to go straight home. I can't wait to take a shower. The sea is pretty calm today. I have a dry hack. What the fuck else? Ass and Pussy, Ass and Pussy. We ate McMuffins from McDonald's this morning. What'll I have for dinner? The Spanish ladies stopped talking and put their heads in their arms on the table. This boat is rockin' all us babies to sleep. I'm going to have to ask the guy next to me to move so I can get out of this booth and go look for the ingrate.
Labels: writing from Southern California
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