He Was Probably Me Just One Universe Over

2-4-98  W @ 3:42 PM
 On the stairs where a year or so ago Shirelle ripped up the carpet.  Walters and his buddy are singing songs on the other side of the wall.  My brother broke into the house, tore up a small tree, and left the screen on the roof.  I have to leave for work soon.  I guess I'll walk again.  I had two slices of cheese pizza for lunch.  I have to force myself to eat fruit.  I read about myths and soul today.  I can't say I learned anything. 
The sad face and the happy face...
The serpent as phallus in the Adam and Eve myth...
The relationship between Eve and evil...
Sat next to Gavi Mango at lunch today. 
Called Shirelle at 7:30 this morning.  Talked to her from my closet. 
What else?  There's beer in the fridge.  Weed on my desk.  I have to call my grandparents.  I need an iron.  Not having one is messing up the whole laundry/wardrobe thing.  I need a watch, too.  I was thinking of sitting in with Getoff and his buddy.  Maybe when I'm done with this.  It's hard to justify doing things when I'm not doing my work.  Mrs. Webster, the black albino, stopped me in the hall during lunch today to tell me about a homeless man named Zurn who lived in back of the mall and had a heart attack.  She said the people who lived at the mall cared for him and wanted to bury him, but that the authorities couldn't allow it unless a relative came forward to approve it.  She said I should pretend to be a long lost nephew so I could tell them to go ahead and bury the man. 
I guess I'll just read some more after this. 

3-2-98 10:05 PM M
I feel exposed with that other journal out there.  As if everyone out there could have read it and now know what a weirdo I am.  My brother Mac is here watching TV.  I came into my bedroom.  Shirelle left me again.  She was acting so strangely.  I walked to school tonight.  Sheryl Powers gave me a ride home.  In the fridge are an Ultimate Cheeseburger and a Spicy Crispy Chicken Sandwich that I bought at Jack in the Box.  I ate a fish and chips and onion rings dipped in mayo while I was there.  Kendoll King and Tim Modchill were there.  We saw some Read Across America thing at the Wiltern Theater.  I was an idiot.  What else?  I took a nap after school today.  I guess I'll finish that last Carver story tonight.  I typed fifteen minutes.  I put one line on Jim.  I'm stuck at the door and the flashback within the flashback.  I don't like the Tinkerbell idea anymore.  Crucify myself.  Shall I put on some music?  Some Rimsky-Korsakov?  My room smells like oil paints.  I painted a canvas black.  Under my nightstand is a stack of rain salvaged Playboy magazines I found by the trashcan in the alley alongside Shirelle's apartment.
"She was dead, but don't you see she needed help?"
3-3-98 12:25 PM Tu
Taxes!  Insurance!  My classroom is a mess.  My class sucks.  My performance sucks.  I walked home at lunch and heated up that Ultimate Cheeseburger and jerked to two brothers poking their negress friend in all of her holes and it made me sad about Shirelle.  I finished the Carver book.  I'm getting fatter and fatter, my psyche more and more fragile.  I could go for a smoke, but I can't play basketball for more than a few minutes before I have to lie down.

2-27-98 She, in Her Black and White Checkered Kitchen, Just Pulled Her Pants Down to Her Sneakers

2-27-98 F 1:00 PM Gavi Naranja. Feels like The One. She smiles brightly when she sees me. Sigh. We all know how these things turn out. Shirelle followed me out of the house barefoot this morning and screamed down the street that my letters were lies. I hustled back to hear her better, asked why she said so, what was I not doing. I was truly baffled. She said nothing, only that the my letters were lies. She went back in. Godamn, I said. I sat at a table with Gavi Naranja. She made my heart flutter. Howrad called last night. She wants to ski this weekend. Will accompany my mother and sister and I to the Getty next Saturday. The kids are watching "Pete's Dragon". Today is payday. Pete says to his dragon, "I don't know if you're good for me...or bad." I'm gonna drink and smoke when I get home. What else? Still achin' over the loss of that journal. Shrill made fried chicken wings and mashed potatoes with green onions and corn and salad, and I brought a bottle of red wine, and she and Christina and I sat in her bedroom and watched "Stand by Me". What else? 2-28-98 Sa 4:30 PM Mac asked if I had found my little book yet. I said no and he said, "You are going down." Howrad is supposed to call at 5:00, Shirelle at the same time. I think I have a deviated septum. Sphincter ringworm mucous. Yikes. "Hot Shots"--absurd comedy on cable. I should go to the bank. I've done a load of laundry and fifteen mintues but not a page nor Jim nor hardly any reading. Shirelle in her black and white checkered kitchen just pulled her pants down to her sneakers... "I've got two heat seeking missles on my tail." "How was the movie?" asked thing. "How many times did you jack off?" asked Mac. There's no beer left in the fridge.

2-26-98 Th 8:00 AM? On a bench on the playground. Kids are running and babbling all over. On the way to school I was thinking how my third graders seem to be fifth graders physcially and second graders academically. There goes the bell. I feel silly writing in front of so many people. I'm worried that I lost that journal. I was just telling a teacher how it was full of incriminating evidence. Then we turned different corners. The kids were pointing at my eyes and saying they were green. "Mr. Zurn! Your eyes are green!"
"What?" I thought they were red.
"Your eyes! They're green!"
 "Green? Really?"
"Yes. From the light" They pointed to the sun. I was facing south. The sun had just risen and was passing though my outer eyeball from left to right.
 I'm at that flame-broiled chicken place next to the boxing gym, where if I had the balls and time, I would work out. I got a real hang-nail problem this month. I ordered a schwarma plate. It can't be as good as the ones Shrill and I got at Farmer's Market. Last night, the guy that's boning Christine was talking about how Penthouse now shows digital penetration. He was quite fascinated by it. I'm not even hungry. I eat because I have no will power. I eat only because I want to.

February 22, 1998 #22
Not stupid, but a fuckup nonetheless...
2-25-98 W 10:55 AM
Aug!  I can't find the last journal I wrote, and it was a doozy.  Fuck.  One of the most eventful months ever recorded, full of sex and criminality, and the record of it has vanished.  If it should fall into the wrong hands...I shudder to think.  It has to turn up.  I could swear I left it on my desk before I went to Shirelle's the other night.  Ugh.  It was such a fucked up, crazy, tumultuous month.  It has to turn up.  The Mardi Gras party, Coach and Horses, the Krush Bar, skiing, Shirelle, Molly, Glorious, Amanda, Catherine Howrad, Mac living here, up all night on meth, El Nino floods, threats of murder, rides on limos, fat chick in bar plays with penis, smashed phones, bloody hands, hiding in the closet, Amanda surprises me with Shrill, Howrad comes, Gerzey laughs at me--Yvette at the Good Luck Bar--All that shit lost.  It has to turn up.
Everything was magnified yesterday.  The Hollywood sign was right at the top of my street.  I've been living here four years now, and I never noticed it there before.  It was like seven miles closer than usual.  These el nino storms leave behind some crystal clarity.  I went to the post office to get tax forms and to Staples for a desk calendar and to Sav-On for vitamins and to the hardware store for electrical tape to fix the phone and measuring tape to make frames. 
What else?  Spent the night at Shrill's.  She was all trippy and shitty.  Shocking.  I started thinking how I am the only person in the world who wants us to be together.  I started thinking I should be with someone less crazy, Kristin or Catherine.  I started to get dressed to leave.  She started crying, said I should stay.  I was paralyzed with indecision, one leg in my pants.  I didn't know what to do.  Finally, I lay down.  It doesn't matter who I'm with, my life will always be crazy.     Wish I had some weed.       What else?      I want to start painting soon.  I have to do fucking music after lunch today.  We just sing songs.  Should I get a burger or eat this banana?

Shrill just showed up here at my class to give two boxes of chocolate-covered cherries to my kids.  Modchill and I went to Tam's for lunch.  I had chicken and broccoli with fried rice and an egg roll and wonton.  The kids are doing their silent reading right now.  I could go for a nap.  I've got a little chubby.  I should have skipped lunch.  I can't wait to go home. 

1-12-98 M 9:20 AM
After this I can close this tortured book.  I will have to take pains to make the next one less painful.  I called Shirelle this morning.  She was sleeping.  She said she was getting only four hours sleep.  I asked what time she got off.  Her answer was that she had to go back to sleep.  Maybe she was up late fucking Doug.  When will I learn?  I'm in class right now.  The kids told vacation stories of drunken grandmothers and dads with gambling addictions.  It's cold and overcast.  The kids are writing in their journals.  I'm hungry, but I have to skip lunch.  Too bad I have to work tonight.  Marlin wanted to know how to spell Tweety.  What else?  I need a watch.  I have such a hard time keeping a watch. I'm out of chalk, too, and tape.  My stomach feels empty.  I ate some raisin bran this morning.  Is my girl going to come back?  Will we be able to make it work?  What else?  In a few minutes I'm going to call on students to read from their journals.  Then it will be recess.  I'll go to the library.  Get chalk.  See what I need to Xerox.  Clean my desk.  What else?  Then we do math.  Subtraction with regrouping.  Then lunch.  I'll read Tropic of Capricorn for lunch.  Then we grind through a science lesson on specialized cells.  Then PE.  Then I'll go home and page her.  Maybe she'll see me tonight.  Yeah, right.  I'll do my page.  Stare at Jim.  Maybe I'll have what it takes to tread.  Go to the LACAS office by eight thirty.  I hope Sharon doesn't think I dissed her by not calling.  When I get home, will Shrill see me?  If not, I don't know what.  Read and write, I guess.  Go to bed early.  Do the exact same fucking shit tomorrow.  "Maybe I don't want to spend the rest of my life explaining things to people," said Will Hunting.  What else?  She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly.  I'm going to get burned.  She don't want me.  She's no good.  She's trouble and heartache.  What else?  Get used to being alone.  I'm a good man, though, no?  I don't know.  I'm an asshole.  What else?  Fuck you.  I won't do what you told me.  What else?  When's spring break?  Alcides fue a Las Vegas.  Fueron a comer a McDonald's.  What else?  Three more fucking lines.  These kids don't listen.  Nobody listens.  Shrill only hears the crappy shit.

1-11-98  11:00 AM Su
I'm at Bob's Big Boy on Highland and Wilshire.  When I get home I'll read some Psalms.  Denver and Pittsburgh are playing in the AFC Championship right now.  I got coffee and water.  The Packers and Niners are in the NFC  Championship later this afternoon.  Shirelle's at work on a movie where the crew's opinion is more important than little old me.  Who can blame her?  The waitress last night said she was a Gemini.  I haven't brushed my teeth yet this morning.  Had a very unsatisfactory jackoff this morning.  You wonder what she's really doing.  You wonder if you care.  You wonder if you're really this lame.  You try to put your fate in God's hands.  You hear a little sad clarinet.  Nothing's perfect, but sometimes
10:56 PM
My page is not returned.  When will I learn?  When will I be released from my suffering?  She really is unaccountable.  She really is evil and careless and duplicitous.  That's my type.  I've lost my umbrella.  It's supposed to rain tomorrow.  It's going to be hard to sleep tonight.  It's all for the better, right?  My back hurts.  What if I leave her a message to call me when she gets home?  It's all fucked up.  I could write that over and over.  It's all fucked up.  It's all fucked up.  She ain't gonna call.  Even if she does, she ain't gonna say anything I want to hear.  It's all fucked up.  What else can I write in here?  I need to close this fucked up book.  What else?  I have no style.  I got no game.  She took a step down and she's too dumb to see it.  She painted a pretty mean picture of me.  It's not fair or true.  "That's just the way I am," she says.  I ache for this?  I'm such a dumb fucking idiot.  I just need to pray to God for patience and forgiveness.  Tomorrow is going to be like the beginning of a six month jail term.  Hopefully I'll get a lot done in the afternoons.  Too bad I can't drink and drive no more.  Hopefully in six months I'll have paid off that Platinum card.  Martinez talked about selling this house to me.  Should I call and leave her a message?  She hasn't changed.  She ain't gonna change.  She deals out pain and damage.  She can't be trusted.  It has always been so.  Fool!  Be a man.  Walk away tall, wiser, and ready for what's next.  Know what you want and when you got it, and do it right next time.  Ask God for help.  Should I leave her a message?

1-10-98 10:51 AM Sa
Dismal.  No-girl dismalness.  The day yawns ahead.  Should I go drip another couple of hundred dollars in the hopes that painting supplies will help to get it off my chest?  How about a new camcorder?  Here's my guitar right next to me.  There are three fingers of Turning Leaf cabernet sauvignon 1995 left in the bottle on the coffee table.  There's a mug of fresh coffee, too, and some roaches.  I took a swig.  And another swig.  Should I just write and wait for Shirelle to call?  We'll only hurt each other.  The floor needs vacuuming.  I read to page thirty in Tropic of Capricorn.  I can type all day, but I know it will be very difficult.  Life without love, is that what it's about?  While I was crossing the street today on the way to buy a newspaper in the wet morning, down at the three-way intersection of Pico askew with San Vicente and Keniston and Venice, where you have to cross the street six times to get all the way over, I was thinking how Shirelle's most natural tendency is toward chaos.  My life will always be like this.  Happiness is a carrot on a stick.  Even if you get it, though, you don't believe it, and throw it away.  Have I ever taken a longer time to fill a journal?  You need to be able to withstand the horrible things you will say to each other.  Feel like I don't know her anymore.  Feel alone.  I would rather be hers.  Thing made margaritas.  How to get more out of life.  We've just come from dropping fifty bucks on my credit card at Dublin.  It's Saturday night.  I have to go to work Monday.  Internalize.  Over-analyze.  Here come the negative creeps.  The girl is supposed to call tonight.