Ouch

6-5-98 11:45 AM F
"Everybody OUT!"  I hollered at the children because it was lunch time, and they were driving me nuts, and I didn't care how disorderly their exit was as long as it was immediate.  "But Mr. Zurn, I don't want to go out into that hot sun today," said one Adam Michaels. 
"Adam, life is not about what you want," I said.  "Remember that always."
"Okay," he said.
Su 6-7 3:00 PM
In the backyard.  Just grilled a hot link and ate it.  Got some watermelon, too.  I put the pot pot under the sprinkler.  A police helicopter flew overhead.  What else?  Finished chapter 6 of Augie March.  I underlined some stuff, but I forget now what it was about.  Didn't pay much attention to the newspaper.  I typed for fifteen minutes and read some more boring shit in Isaiah about the fall of nations.  Dodgers are beating the Mariners.  Cubs beat the Sox--Cubbies are in first!  Atlanta manhandled Baltimore.  NBA Finals action tonight, as well as Mets/Redsox.  Went to Exposition Park yesterday with Modchill and Shirelle.  Modchill and his buddy Tim came over on their break from intern classes to smoke pot and drink beer.  Then they had a field trip to the African American Museum.  Shirelle and I hitched along, even though I wanted to see if the Trojans would win the College World Series (They did.) and would Real Quiet win the Belmont Stakes to become the first Triple Crown Winner since Affirmed 20 years ago (Real Quiet lost a photo finish by a nose.).  Tim is an apparent future millionaire based on his investment in a zeolite deposit in Arizona.  "They mix it in concrete," he informed me enthusiastically. 
"What are you tearing up the desert for?" I asked.
"There's nothing out there," he said.
"Save your soul," I said. 
"Stick to teaching."  He grinned.
Cathy Howrad called.  "What are you doing?" she wanted to know.
"Drinking beer, watching the College World Series, smoking pot with Thing and Tim and Todd--"
"And Shirelle," Shirelle chimed in.  "Tell her I'm here."
Fuck.  "And Shirelle," I blew through my lips.
"Oh, is that back on?"
"Pretty much," I admitted.
"Okay, loser."
"Yup."
"Bye."
"Ouch."
Whatever.  Shirelle and I saw the 3D IMAX film "Into the Deep".  Before the show was a preview for some 3D animated film that made me giggle like a tickled kindergartner.  Shrill and I walked to Margarita Joe's for margaritas, and we argued about when we would move in together again.  Afterward we hooked up again with Tim and Todd and strolled through the Natural History Museum.  Tim revealed he wrote Reagan's position on NAFTA that appeared in the Wall Street Journal.  "So Reagan's just a brand people write under now."
"That's how it works."
I thought of sparring with him but fuck politics.
I'm out of journals after this.  Where will I get more?  You can't just walk into the supply room and get them at Wilshire Hill like you could at Pierce.  I used my pencil to pick seed out of my watermelon.  Thing's brother, Doc, went into Rehab.  I have to write my aunt today.  There ain't no life nowhere.  The birds and the breeze are a boring old trick.  Dull like my pencil.  I feel too primitive to sketch the falconer on the wine label in front of me nor can I do the Chrysler in the driveway.  What shall I do for exercise today?
Out.