10-8-98 12:45 PM Th
A teenager at Taco Bell noticed the same thing I had: A woman there had a nice rack. "How old are you?" he asked her.
"Twenty-four," she told him.
"Damn," he said, "you look pretty good for a twenty-four-year-old."
"Thanks," she said, and I laughed.
6:20
Now I'm at my night school. I finished The Sportswriter while I walked here. It's funny. I used to worry about that walk down the mean streets of Pico and Crenshaw, especially if I was wearing a tie. I figured I was a sure target, just asking to be mugged. I walked alert to any signs of danger, but now I hardly look up from my book, other than to check for cars when I step off the curb to cross streets, At night, the street lamps light up the page; for only a second or two is it too dark to read as I pass out of the glow from one street light to the next. The book protects me. It wards off evil. People see a holy man walking the street. I've been hailed as "Reverend" and "Good Christian" by people whom seem to think I'm reading a Bible while I walk.
Grant Loud from "Jeopardy" called. Now they want me next Tuesday. Lahdeedah. I talked to Peachtree today. I said I'd ride the train down to Oceanside to golf. He said that way I won't have to drive in traffic and I'll already be drunk when I get there. Not to mention the fact that my car wouldn't make it to the end of the driveway, let alone Carlsbad. My teeth hurt. What else? I have to write to my folks in Idaho when I get home. I get to pick a new book to read. Should I read Independence Day, the sequel to The Sportswriter? Or maybe Last of the Mohicans or maybe some Krakauer? Or maybe I should just read non-fiction, history and science to prep for Jeop Who knows? Who cares? I'll be out of here in about fifteen minutes. I ought to rethink my whole adult-teaching method. It sure would be great if I did as well as Andrew did yesterday. Then I could quit this job and write at night. What else? Haven't smoked for a while. I have a headache today. Looks like I'll be studying this week. Debt Debt Debt. I can't think of anything else. Maybe when I get home, after I finish my letter, I can finish this.
A teenager at Taco Bell noticed the same thing I had: A woman there had a nice rack. "How old are you?" he asked her.
"Twenty-four," she told him.
"Damn," he said, "you look pretty good for a twenty-four-year-old."
"Thanks," she said, and I laughed.
6:20
Now I'm at my night school. I finished The Sportswriter while I walked here. It's funny. I used to worry about that walk down the mean streets of Pico and Crenshaw, especially if I was wearing a tie. I figured I was a sure target, just asking to be mugged. I walked alert to any signs of danger, but now I hardly look up from my book, other than to check for cars when I step off the curb to cross streets, At night, the street lamps light up the page; for only a second or two is it too dark to read as I pass out of the glow from one street light to the next. The book protects me. It wards off evil. People see a holy man walking the street. I've been hailed as "Reverend" and "Good Christian" by people whom seem to think I'm reading a Bible while I walk.
Grant Loud from "Jeopardy" called. Now they want me next Tuesday. Lahdeedah. I talked to Peachtree today. I said I'd ride the train down to Oceanside to golf. He said that way I won't have to drive in traffic and I'll already be drunk when I get there. Not to mention the fact that my car wouldn't make it to the end of the driveway, let alone Carlsbad. My teeth hurt. What else? I have to write to my folks in Idaho when I get home. I get to pick a new book to read. Should I read Independence Day, the sequel to The Sportswriter? Or maybe Last of the Mohicans or maybe some Krakauer? Or maybe I should just read non-fiction, history and science to prep for Jeop Who knows? Who cares? I'll be out of here in about fifteen minutes. I ought to rethink my whole adult-teaching method. It sure would be great if I did as well as Andrew did yesterday. Then I could quit this job and write at night. What else? Haven't smoked for a while. I have a headache today. Looks like I'll be studying this week. Debt Debt Debt. I can't think of anything else. Maybe when I get home, after I finish my letter, I can finish this.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 6:53 PM
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