3:05 PM Apr 8  W
This is a dark pencil.  It writes like a crayon.  More cabernet at Rita Flora.  When I'm done here, I'm going to take some old clothes to a second-hand shop and see if they won't give me credit for something I might use.  I've got to take Jim to page 44 TODAY.  I'm alone in this room, but I can see two ladies dining together through the door to the next room.    What else?  How about "Ack!"?   What [DISPLELA ANTIQUES in ghostly lettering] else?  How about "Urg!"?  What else?  Jim Jim Tomorrow I meet Gibson at El Coyote at noon.  I drank like three or four beers this morning.  I'm on my second glass of wine.  My pasta had a white wine sauce.  I'll be driving up La Brea soon.  My pencil is dull.  Tom and I are supposed to go out tonight.  My grave deepens. 

HERZOG sucks.  Like my shit sucks.  So, I guess I'm imitating something that was good thirty years ago but sucks now.  I read the whole paper and did every square of the crossword.  I've had no conversation today.  A girl looked like she wanted to talk, but I only eyeballed her.  I may as well write with my left hand.  Let's try a line or two.  I haven't done this in years.  I should call my [illegible].  I have never tried cursive writing with my left hand before, and I don't have all day to try it now.  How long will it take me to read the next sixteen pages until the crot in Herzog?  Herzog is bad for me:  Plodding, Jewish, wanna-be, intellectualism.  My plodding, Protestant/Catholic, wish-I-was, blue-collarism weighs heavy on me these days.  I'll wear a shirt that shows it.  I painted the back of this journal last night.