It's not a cult, is it?

11-10 M 9:07 AM
"They was gettin' all freaky-deeky up in there on those slow songs."  Ashley said her mom was dancing at a party.  She said her mom was drunk, and her mom went into a room with the man she was dancing with, and Ashley went in and looked and got out real fast, and she said she couldn't tell us what she saw.
It's raining.  I wonder if Shirelle's coming at lunch.  I shouldn't wonder.  I sure would like to take off from Adult School tonight and go out and get ripped.        We got our school pictures today.     Go out and get ripped at lunch.  Mebbe get ripped after school.    Fuck some new women.  Fuck the world.      Bail.    What else?   I should skip school tonight.    I got gel in my hair today.  Somebody said something about it when they saw me.  Alcides went to Tijuana.  Sindy's dad ate a Big Mac Sunday.  11:00 AM  Ug  Doomed.  We're all doomed.  I'm about to fall asleep.  I feel like a very ordinary person.  This depresses me.  I have to get together my lesson plan for the week.  I have to get my report cards ready in the next week or so.  I'm hungry.  Hungry and tired.  The kids are working nicely.  I wish I had some coffee.  I wish I could quit this sorry life.  John Bayless was going to Colorado to join a ministry.  I said half joking, "It's not a cult, is it?"  He said, "No.  It's not a cult," not at all joking, fully serious.  When I introduced him to Glorious, she asked why he was going to Colorado.  I said, "Because he's a spiritual traveler."  I think John thought I was making fun of him.  On the way to the airport I told him I admired his courage, to be able to throw off the expectations of conventional America and follow his heart.  I'm restricted by my Germanic-American upbringing. 
Marlin says it took him half an hour to climb one of those trees in Belize.  It took him another half hour to climb down.

Su 11-9 1:30 PM
I'm having a cholesterolfest on the boardwalk at Marina Del Rey:  Brunch at Shanghai Red's.  I read most of the paper and did both crossword puzzles.  I'm alone except for my coffee and my champagne and my copy of Tropic of Cancer.  Pelicans splash noisily in the harbor.  A loon enjoys a stopover on the way south, maybe.  A seal swam by.  The women at the table next to me, having their Sunday social, talk about how they don't have the time to read.  Then one says she loves to read because it quiets her mind.  I'm almost outraged by this comment.  Same woman says she likes to stay up late and sleep late.  No Poor Richard, she.  I have a roach in the car.  I wish I could smoke it in here.  The football match-ups on the bar's TVs are uninteresting.  A yacht with a helicopter on it is docked across the channel.  Shouldn't I be smart enough to figure out how to do that for myself?  Maybe not.  It's not brains that gets you there anyway.  It's character or lack of it.  I don't have the nerve.  I'm selfish, but I'm not that selfish.  Sharon told me to go to film school.  I don't know why she told me that.  She asked my GPA.  I wish she'd asked my IQ.  I told her 2.8.  She made a face.  She said, "Well, life experience counts for a lot, too."  "Does being a drunk fuckup impress people?" I asked.  She laughs and I say, "Cuz I did that and still almost got a 3.0," but this time she gives me the face again, a squinting of the eyes and lifting of the nose.  That conversation followed one that has been popping up a lot lately:  People don't read anymore.  I have dedicated myself to a dying medium.  This is when she tells me to go to film school.  I say people with any intellectual pride still read.  There's the face again!  But I take it she is not smelling shit over the comment so much as my bad business acumen.  In that face is not a disagreement with my point but a disappointment over my refusal to see the future.  Intellecutalism may not even be at such an ebb; it has always taken a back seat to financial prowess, especially in this country. 
The lady at Newport Landing is going to try to set us up with two stray fishermen so we can still get our charter for $200 a head next week.  What else?  What's wrong with Jim Crack?  Why does it suck?  It's a little silly to me the way Kathleen says she channels her characters; they talk to her; she writes what they say.  Silly ain't the right word.  Lucky?  Dubious?  My characters don't say shit.  I have to wring the fucking words out of my stingy fucking mind.  What else?  When I get home I'll do the one page.  What about the Pepper?  I was supposed to help him paint.  A lady walk[sailboat sketch]ing by asked for the Parade section of my newspaper.  It was about Marine boot camp.  Her son was a drill instructor, she said.  An old woman in a loud floral shirt is reading The Cat That Lived High.  So there.  I'm stuffed.  Do I flake on Pepper?  I got enough going on.  What else?  Another long day tomorrow, but Tuesday is Veteran's Day.  Woo-woo!

Jeopardy Contestants 10202 W Wash Culver City 90232
Nov. 9 1:15 AM
Should I call Shirelle?  Should I page Shirelle at her party?  Should I bother anymore?  We're supposed to have dinner at Steve's and An's.  I watched Evander Holyfield drop Michael Moorer five times before an eighth round TKO.  I watched next door at the old Jap Hawaiian's, Mel, who I talk sports with sometimes when he is out watering in front, like he always is.  He invited me.  His cousin, Larry, was there.  Larry has some hard-to-describe deformity of the forearm that I didn't have the nuts to ask about.  Fumi, Mel's mom was there, caring for her invalid husband.  Only his eyes seem alive.  Fumi and Mel kept offering refreshments.  I had a Sprite and a jelly roll, but I managed to turn down the Chips Ahoy cookies.  I would initially turn down whatever they would offer me, and then accept it the third time they asked because I was afraid I was being rude. 
I went to pick up Mac's trippy friend, Jerald Peroni, over on Serrano near Ninth and Western.  We drove to Reseda smoking a j where Mac's friend Marco had a black box that would allow us to watch the Pay-Per-View Michigan/Penn State game free.  The Wolverines jumped out to a big early lead over the Nittany Lions.  A girl, purported to be a twenty-one-year-old mother of two, fake-titted, bachelor-party stripper sat in my brother's lap.  I was my uncomfortable geek self.  I felt zero cameraderie with anyone there.  I drove Mac and the girl and Jerry out to some broiler place.  They all ordered food and I got a bourbon.  Then when their food came, I ordered coconut shrimp.  It was pretty good.  I drank three beers.  A good Missouri/Nebraska game played on the tv over the bar.  After that, I dropped off Mike and drove Jerry back to LA.  At his request, we went over Laurel Canyon so we could smoke a doobie.  We parked under a billboard while I rolled it.  I looked up warily for pigeons; we had the top down.  I tried to push a little chunk under the armrest, but Jerry spotted it.  We stopped at Shirelle's.  She was getting her hair all fixed up.  She was going to Demona's as usual.  I asked her if she wanted to hang out.  She didn't.  Weird.  This irked me, this turning of the tables. 
I finished The Naked and the Dead and the Hillary Mills Mailer bio.  I have to add ten pages to Jim in two weeks.  I have to make stuff up for it, because my life is not interesting enough to supply any events or details.  I'm too much a coward.  You can't really live and write at the same time.  Do I make the call?  Do I get my five Bible pages out of the way?  Start some real-life story?  Work at Jim?  Finish page.

11-7- 9:56 AM F
Jennifer is pushing Gloria around the room on a wheeled desk chair.  The shades are drawn still.  I can't see the day from here.  Alejandra asked if she could "play on the chalkboard." I said, "No."  I'm hungry.  I think I'll go up to Bob's Big Boy for lunch today.  What else?  I hope it gets to be two thirty pretty quick.  I'll be done shopping and home by three thirty.  I can do a page and the comp book transcription and print up some crap for the meeting tonight.  Read some.  Take a look at Jim.  Change, stretch.  Do the dishes.  I'll have about two and a half hours at home before Julia shows.  Softball from eight thirty until ten tonight.  Michigan/Penn State tomorrow is Pay-Per-View.  WTF?  I've got to figurre out how to get it.

11-6 Th 9:50 AM
Recess.  Kayo's here observing my class.  All we did were a bunch of worksheets today.  At some point today, I'd like to get the rest of my Mailer reading done.  I still have almost two hundred pages to go.  I'll probably not finish until the weekend. 
6:53 PM  I'm in my night school class right now.  They're working on the imperfect tense.  Just the stuff my boss says not to do.  Oh, well.  I can only hope he doesn't show up.  I didn't get to do any reading today because I was hosting Kayo at school, and after school, I chaperoned a group of kids to LACMA like I do every week.  Today we saw the drawings on the second floor of the Hammer builidings.  I'm exhausted.  I would like this night to go by as quickly as possible.  I've done my 15 minutes and my '89 Comp Book page, but I still have the page to do and the hour with Jim, plus my reading.  Shirelle will be wanting to see me.  Tomorrow I have a 7:30 AM conference with feral child, Damnesia Harkings and her mom and Principal Dinersteen.  At six, Julia and Kathleen are coming over.  Before that I have to go to the market.  After that I go to softball.  Haven't heard from Peachtree about fishing.  What else?  Paper skeletons hang all over the door of this classroom.  Haven't had no toke today.  Kayo brought some crazy Sensimilla last night.  I felt retarded.  We talked some goofy UFO shit.  Told the last act of the Baja story.  What else?  Ate fuckin Jack in the Box today.  But that's all.  No breakfast.  Walked home.  Ran some drills with the kids.  I had two glorious days of Jim work, and now that seems all gone again.  I borrowed this pencil out of a Tupperware supply container on the table where I'm sitting.  There's masking tape on it with the names David and Otero in black and orange crayon.  During the day this is a fifth grade class.  U - G- L - Y /  You ain't got no alibi / You ugly! You ugly!  You mama say you ugly!  Saturday is it Michigan-Penn State week yet?  Write read write read write read all damn day.  Got a new watch strap.  Kay--Call Aunt Kay. 

11-5- 6:15 PM W
     Hearn was killed like a footnote.  I was surprised at how little drama there was to it, in proportion to Hearn's prominence as a character in the overall story.  But to the army, the war, history, and to the platoon itself, which is the real main character, Hearn died as he was: a footnote.
I'm in night school right now.  The class is copying phrase translations off the board.  They all come from Latin American countries.
What will I do with Jim tonight when I get home?  I'm happy enough with everything until he gets high, but then things seem to ponder a bit.  That may be the next section I'd like to tighten up.
Sounds like Mailer was making some goofed-up movies.  I have about 25 students so far tonight.  The two pretty girls moved from the table where they usually sit to one closer to me.  Earlier I saw Mauricio throwing little papers at them, a most juvenile way to flirt.  I thought of telling them that this is an adult class, and he should act like an adult, but I figured the girls could handle him on their own at this point, anyway.  Now I see they've moved, and he's gone.  Surely some sexual politics.
About the pondering quality of Jim's high-ness, is that not an accurate depiction?  "Hee-hee, 'Yes, Your Highness.'"  How come we never thought of that?  That's what I'll start calling Shirelle when she's high.
My mom called.  Mardis got busted by the cops keying $800 worth of damage into her friend's cheatin' boyfriend's car.  Apparently, Mardis asked my mother if she could go with Kaitlin to spy, basically, on Kaitlin's boyfriend whom they suspected of being with another girl, and my mother, in all her wisdom, consented.  I didn't point out to my mom that that was probably the first mistake right there, though, I guess it would have been easy enough for Mardis to lie her way out of the house.  Kids.  I guess I better get to teaching now.  So long.  Farewell.  Sayanora.  Adios.

11-4-97 9:15 AM Tu
On the way to school a bunch of pages from a sex newspaper were scattered along the sidewalk leading to school.  I stopped and picked up each one and crumpled it into a ball.  I tossed the ball into the trashbin on the playground at school.  I don't want the children exposed to that stuff, but at the same time I tripped out a little that I would take part in this conspiracy of puritanical lies in which we try so hard to equate sex with shame.  Still I don't want any of them to become sex-confused losers.  What's worse, to be repressed or to be a pervert or does the one lead to the other?  I guess the thing of it is is that sex brings new souls into this often shitty world, and that should be a decision in which all the pros and  cons are weighed by reasonable, responsible people, which most children are not.  Not that many adults are either.  Anyway, I didn't want the kids walking to school and seeing that.  They'll have to settle for strip show billboards and Viagra commercials.
10:10 AM
At lunch today, I'll eat an apple while I walk to Blockbuster at Wilshire and La Brea to return that volcano video I rented.  It was kind of fun to watch my neighborhood be destroyed, even though I love it here. 
12:10
I'm back from dropping off the video.  I resisted getting another video.  I resisted lunch, too.  I guess I'll just have some chili and a grilled cheese or something when I get home, before I go to the watch place.  Looks like I'll not get to read until bedtime.       Got in some good work on Jim last night.  Emailed Julia.  She said I was funny and a genius, but that was, I suspect, because my last message to her was so depressed, she thought she might try to cheer me up.  Got to call Kayo and Peach.  There's the bell to end lunch.  Damnesia ripped up Marlon's homework, so I took her to the office and asked principal Dinerstein to suspend her.
I just talked to the principal.  She said Damnesia's mom will call at two forty. 
What else?  The students are working on some word problems.  So far, so good.  What else?  A page of What elses.  Now I'm hungry.  Talking to Damnesia's mom will keep me a half hour off schedule now.  Urg.  I wish I had a cup of coffee.  I wish I was home finishing my books.
[heavily-shaded pencil sketch of an apple]  Jim Fenton, the LACAS tripper was asking me if I would loan him a thousand dollars.  I couldn't tell if he was serious or not, but I went with not.  He wouldn't say what the loan was for.  He and Sharon and Tracy tentatively scheduled dinner after school Wednesday night.       Sandra finished her math first.  I told her to read her library book.  A few minutes later she came back to tell me she was done with her library book.  I sent her to help the other students.  She's sharpening pencils now.  She's wearing her jet black hair in ponytails.  She's wearing her plaid skirt school uniform with whiter shirt untucked.  She's back at my desk.  She says nobody needs help.  I say, "Oh."  Man I could go for a nap right now.

11-3 M noon
Shirelle and I had a spat this morning because I didn't know what to say when she asked me why I love her.  I already typed about it this morning.  Anyhow, she called to apologize and the brought me lunch in my classroom.  She brought salad, sushi, egg-fried rice with some shrimp, an apple, a cup of red raspberry yogurt, a box of Barnum's Animal Crackers, and a bottle of Aquafina water.  I saved the yogurt and apple for later.  Marlon had already given me an apple.  I kissed Shirelle a quick peck at the car  and went to pick up my kids at the lunch line.  They tried to fuss over the kiss, which I believe was Shirelle's entire intent, but I wouldn't let them. 
Now they're working on a problem I gave them.  They have to make a book.  The book has to have twleve pages they can write on.  They can only write on the right-hand pages.  They must make their book out of once-folded paper.  They have to say how many sheets of paper they will need.  [Nabisco log in the corner].  They work with a partner to come up and present a solution.  They had a hard time coming up with the answer of six.  Now they have say how many pages the whole class will need.     It's hot again.
2:30
The bell just rang.  The kids are gone except Marlon, Damnesia and Alannah, who I made stay after school.  The yellow buses rumble away.  I stacked my red apple on top of my green apple on top of my yogurt on top of my desk.  Shirelle brought me a newspaper, too.
It has cooled off some now.  I took down the October calendar and all the little paper Jack-o'-lanterns we used to mark the days.  We'll have to make some turkeys or pilgrims or something for November.  I worked on Jim for an hour last night.  I put several new lines in the first paragraph.  I have no idea if they work or not.  I'll have to check my e-mail when I get home.  Looks like my fishing trip is doomed.  Maybe if I call Newport Landing.  They might have some strays looking to go out on a charter.  What else.  Read Mailer shit when I got home.  The platoon has been divided to get wounded Wilson back to the safety of the beach.  I've got do to my one page.  My journal from 37th Street, senior year, 89-90.  Work on Jim from nine to ten tonight.  Maybe I'll give Shirelle some money to fix up my apartment.  A couple more days and I should be through with this journal.  I lay on the couch and read it yesterday.  It wasn't so bad.  What else?  I drove to work today.  Now I'm gonna drive home.  We didn't have any PE either.  Looks like another fat day.  There's nothing but water to drink at my house.

Banal

11-2 2:00 PM Su
I read the Book of Job.  It is the most contemplative book in the Bible (so far).  So what?  I need to resist my negative impulses.  Job and his friends ruminate on the relation of God and misfortune.  I ate leftover Thai food for lunch.  I'll make quesadillas for dinner.  The Forty-Niners are playing on TV against the Cowboys in San Francisco.  I just turned the volume off: Pressed the mute button; Hope I'll be able to think better without Madden and Summerall bending my ears.  Yeh.  Thing went to see a movie called "A Life Less Ordinary".  I have to call Kayo and Sheryl today.  I have to write to my aunt.  Wilson has been wounded in a skirmish at the Mount Tanaka Pass.  Mailer is working on a serialized novel.  The main character murders his wife in the first chapter.  It's ironic that the mind that crafted The Naked and the Dead would become such a bufoonical egomaniac.  What do I know?  I read the bio on the treadmill.  I have to write  me one page still.  Have to spend an hour still with Jim.  Shirelle called and said she was going for a swim at Debbie's and Ben's.  That means she'll be drinking and smoking. 
I need to develop a cohesive philosophy.  I listened to a little German radio this morning.  Pompous marching music.  I could pick out scraps of what the DJ said in German.  I wonder about my heritage.  Now I'm watching golf.  The Tour Championship.  I feel a twinge of despair.  I don't even want to consider what might be causing it.  And still a page to go.     What the fuck else?  Need to get a new band for my watch.  What matters?  Blue sky waste of time.  Don't care about anything.  Want change.  Why should I care?  Nothing bad ever happens to me.  I have to go sit at my desk after this.  It's as hard to write here alone in my house as it is to write in my classroom where I can't write either.  What else?  I feel like screaming, "WHAT ELSE?"  Feel like having it tattooed on my chest.  Urg.  Back to the grind tomorrow.  What else?  I hope I can get say a hundred more pages of this Mailer study done before I go to bed tonight at eleven.  I've been interested in the stock market lately.  If I had any extra money, now would have been a good time to buy.  What else?  My brother said he was coming over today, but he didn't.  Maybe he read my voice.

That Wish and That Ache

10-30 Th 8:11 AM
When I walk to school I like to stay on the left side of the street so I can look into the cars at people's faces as they drive past.  I get a sort of voyeuristic thrill, read the split second biography as it whizzes past.  The real prize is that beautiful woman in the the traffic who locks eyes with you, and is gone an instant later, and you wonder if she feels that wish and that ache the way you do, and you think you saw something that says yes she does.

Yeh.  So, the kids are working nicely right now.  So, Karen came to get Gabi right now, and I fouled it up by doing nothing.

Got let off.  Got pulled over and let off.

10-31 3:15 PM

"The dumbest, cruelest, most doubtful man you ever saw."
     Bald jew with two forks and a spoon
sunglasses, the tines of the fork cover
the eyes, the spoon: the nose.