Pissing on the Ceiling
5-19-98 Tu 1:50 PM
At my school desk. I went to Molly's last night. The band sucked. I talked to no one but the bartender to order my three Harps. Then I went to the Mint. I scooted in while the girl at the door had her back turned, and I avoided paying the ten-dollar cover charge. Harry Dean Stanton's band was playing. I talked a long while with a woman who was worried about the state of education in Los Angeles. I tried to mollify her fears, but don't think anything came of it. It couldn't have helped that I was out after midnight on a Monday (technically Tuesday) drinking bourbons when I had to teach the next day. She had adopted her two nieces and said they were afraid to go to school. I didn't ask what she was doing out after midnight on a Monday with two frightened nieces at home. She was a pretty, older woman with a twenty-year-old daughter. I would have liked to do her. When she left, people were dancing to Harry Dean. I asked a couple of girls to dance, but neither wanted to. Then came last call, and I drove home. I woke up with a tremendous hard-on this morning. Jacking off wouldn't work. I needed some actual pussy. I started to miss you-know-who and got sad. My dick stayed hard for close to an hour. I got up to piss and it started to soften a little, but I still had to perform some yoga to keep from pissing on the ceiling. I went to Carl's Jr. and had a Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger with mayonnaise and lettuce for breakfast. I should get another one. I slept on the floor of my classroom at lunch besieged by half-dreams of naked women. I could cry. Life's so short--to be in your prime without a love...It hurts. It's sad. Whatever. What else? What'll I eat today? Got to go to the LACAS office. Got to call Gabina Maxima about housecleaning. Will I go out after night school tonight? See "Godzilla" maybe? I've got a banana. I stole it from Thing. The Lakers lost last night. What else? I haven't made any plans for my thirtieth birthday. Mac invited me to Havasu. He'll just rip me off. Carlin made flyers for a party. GIP says Rawler and An and he want to go out to dinner. I'll wind up waffling until it's too late to do any of it. Then I'll get into a drunk depression.
At my school desk. I went to Molly's last night. The band sucked. I talked to no one but the bartender to order my three Harps. Then I went to the Mint. I scooted in while the girl at the door had her back turned, and I avoided paying the ten-dollar cover charge. Harry Dean Stanton's band was playing. I talked a long while with a woman who was worried about the state of education in Los Angeles. I tried to mollify her fears, but don't think anything came of it. It couldn't have helped that I was out after midnight on a Monday (technically Tuesday) drinking bourbons when I had to teach the next day. She had adopted her two nieces and said they were afraid to go to school. I didn't ask what she was doing out after midnight on a Monday with two frightened nieces at home. She was a pretty, older woman with a twenty-year-old daughter. I would have liked to do her. When she left, people were dancing to Harry Dean. I asked a couple of girls to dance, but neither wanted to. Then came last call, and I drove home. I woke up with a tremendous hard-on this morning. Jacking off wouldn't work. I needed some actual pussy. I started to miss you-know-who and got sad. My dick stayed hard for close to an hour. I got up to piss and it started to soften a little, but I still had to perform some yoga to keep from pissing on the ceiling. I went to Carl's Jr. and had a Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger with mayonnaise and lettuce for breakfast. I should get another one. I slept on the floor of my classroom at lunch besieged by half-dreams of naked women. I could cry. Life's so short--to be in your prime without a love...It hurts. It's sad. Whatever. What else? What'll I eat today? Got to go to the LACAS office. Got to call Gabina Maxima about housecleaning. Will I go out after night school tonight? See "Godzilla" maybe? I've got a banana. I stole it from Thing. The Lakers lost last night. What else? I haven't made any plans for my thirtieth birthday. Mac invited me to Havasu. He'll just rip me off. Carlin made flyers for a party. GIP says Rawler and An and he want to go out to dinner. I'll wind up waffling until it's too late to do any of it. Then I'll get into a drunk depression.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 12:23 PM
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