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.