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.
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.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
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