12-31 1:09 AM W
"...but we won't know for sure 'til we're in the car on the way." She must be making love by now. Wish I could call her. Glory's nice. She's a little weird when she's drunk. Beats being a little weird no matter what. Yours truly comes to mind. Nothing makes sense. Read Miller to sleep. Wake up around eight tomorrow. Too much fucking smoke in the house. Sneak away and use the phone. Call her. Stop her. Wicked save her from. Ugh. That's what they want. Typed today. Just crap, but I typed. Sweated twenty minutes on my treadmill. Ate a club sandwich at Shelly's Café, up there by the Galaxy Theater. Can you believe she's sleeping with someone else tonight? Having sex with him? Glorious bit me. I'm in bed. I've had this blanket for years. Want to type her a letter. Say how I would respect her vision of running a home. Tom and Glory are watching LA Confidential. A copy Tom got from work. A wrapped condom waits on the nightstand. It turns my stomach. Why isn't she here with me? Why does she prefer to be with him? Does praying do any good? Fuck. What else? Fuck. The usual fuck, but more so. Every year life gets sadder. Til you die. Fuck. What the fuck else?
12-31 1:29 PM W
I know today is Wednesday because yesterday was the day Shirelle picked up her boyfriend from the airport and that was Tuesday. We're in Mojave driving. Don't wan to believe it's New Year's Eve. I'm parched. I'm her voodoo doll. I can't think of anything to say. Glory says Dave Navarro looks evil, but he's also attractive. We are in Incline Village on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe. I don't feel like I'm really here. I feel nervous. "Skiing today was better than yesterday," Steve said. I'm feeling like a geek tonight. "Have you ever been to Jackson Hole, Wyoming?" What the fuck am I doing here? "Dude, we got the swank rooms." I'm too much of a fuckin trip. Glory cannot see Harrison Ford cussing. ESPN is on the tv. I put it there. It was on music videos. "Did you bring the schwag?" OUCH. URG. FUCK. Shit. What if I have another beer? Guess I'll have to skip skiing tomorrow. "When I get high, I can't ski." I told Ko his first name should be Cy, then he would be Cy Ko. Yeah. After this I'll have another beer. I feel helpless here with no car, no cash, no say. It's from reading that Miller shit aloud in the car here up 395. Shrill Butt. Glory sniffs barely perceptible ironies out her nose. I could go for an Irish coffee. I wish my real girl was here. Useless, stupid wish. Stop thinking about it. She isn't. Fool fool foolio. What else? Soon another beer. They went to go pick up Angie.
"...but we won't know for sure 'til we're in the car on the way." She must be making love by now. Wish I could call her. Glory's nice. She's a little weird when she's drunk. Beats being a little weird no matter what. Yours truly comes to mind. Nothing makes sense. Read Miller to sleep. Wake up around eight tomorrow. Too much fucking smoke in the house. Sneak away and use the phone. Call her. Stop her. Wicked save her from. Ugh. That's what they want. Typed today. Just crap, but I typed. Sweated twenty minutes on my treadmill. Ate a club sandwich at Shelly's Café, up there by the Galaxy Theater. Can you believe she's sleeping with someone else tonight? Having sex with him? Glorious bit me. I'm in bed. I've had this blanket for years. Want to type her a letter. Say how I would respect her vision of running a home. Tom and Glory are watching LA Confidential. A copy Tom got from work. A wrapped condom waits on the nightstand. It turns my stomach. Why isn't she here with me? Why does she prefer to be with him? Does praying do any good? Fuck. What else? Fuck. The usual fuck, but more so. Every year life gets sadder. Til you die. Fuck. What the fuck else?
12-31 1:29 PM W
I know today is Wednesday because yesterday was the day Shirelle picked up her boyfriend from the airport and that was Tuesday. We're in Mojave driving. Don't wan to believe it's New Year's Eve. I'm parched. I'm her voodoo doll. I can't think of anything to say. Glory says Dave Navarro looks evil, but he's also attractive. We are in Incline Village on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe. I don't feel like I'm really here. I feel nervous. "Skiing today was better than yesterday," Steve said. I'm feeling like a geek tonight. "Have you ever been to Jackson Hole, Wyoming?" What the fuck am I doing here? "Dude, we got the swank rooms." I'm too much of a fuckin trip. Glory cannot see Harrison Ford cussing. ESPN is on the tv. I put it there. It was on music videos. "Did you bring the schwag?" OUCH. URG. FUCK. Shit. What if I have another beer? Guess I'll have to skip skiing tomorrow. "When I get high, I can't ski." I told Ko his first name should be Cy, then he would be Cy Ko. Yeah. After this I'll have another beer. I feel helpless here with no car, no cash, no say. It's from reading that Miller shit aloud in the car here up 395. Shrill Butt. Glory sniffs barely perceptible ironies out her nose. I could go for an Irish coffee. I wish my real girl was here. Useless, stupid wish. Stop thinking about it. She isn't. Fool fool foolio. What else? Soon another beer. They went to go pick up Angie.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 7:37 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home