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?
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?
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 5:33 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home