Every Tock of the Clock Puts a Hitch in my Ribs
10-29-9812:40 PM TH
I'm so bummed I have to go to work tonight. Oh, big deal. You can use the money. Terrible. Terribility. Skeletons out of the closet. I was paranoid about the walk tonight, and then Mr. Martinez gave me a ride in his Trooper. What else? I'm fifty minutes early. I need to just finish this. What else? You shouldn't smoke. I could go for a drink. What else? What. Something I don't even want to write. I'm full of fear. Halloween tricks. Every tock of the clock puts a hitch in my ribs. I need to get to the batting cages. My balls ache. My dick dribbles. It dampens cold. What's it to ya? Anyway. Giving some what happened? Maybe... whatever. Desert in my throat. There's a bat gnat in here. Whatever. You forgot your jacket stupid. ...not getting in those tights again this year. You know last year I looked like Baryshnokov; this year I'd look like Jackie Gleason [black ink emblem of the United States Senate] Whatever. Just giving some test tonight. What was I going to say? And two pages to go still. It's already five forty-five. What else? When I get home...what? Jim seems like a bad joke tonight. Jim seems like a bad joke tonight. The suggestion of murder and robbery. Shouldn't I open the door out there? The students may be waiting. Class isn't 'til six, though. How's to--There was knocking at my chamber door. It was Sheryl. I've got to get my books. Oralia is here with her baby. I don't have any idea what to do tonight. I fell all discombobulated. My throat is dry and scratchy. My eyes are a little dry. My post-nasal cavity a little drippy. There are only three students here so far. My class is going to get closed form lack of interest before my credential expires. What else? Man, there ain't nothing. There ain't no life nowhere. My mortality strikes me hard suddenly. Douglas whatever-his-name's testicular cancer. Was that all it was? Four students. It's after six now. They don't like to come for testing. Would have maybe read some more Independence Day. Maybe on the way to work. I should have walked. I had some foreboding, though. Ana Rita walked in.
I'm so bummed I have to go to work tonight. Oh, big deal. You can use the money. Terrible. Terribility. Skeletons out of the closet. I was paranoid about the walk tonight, and then Mr. Martinez gave me a ride in his Trooper. What else? I'm fifty minutes early. I need to just finish this. What else? You shouldn't smoke. I could go for a drink. What else? What. Something I don't even want to write. I'm full of fear. Halloween tricks. Every tock of the clock puts a hitch in my ribs. I need to get to the batting cages. My balls ache. My dick dribbles. It dampens cold. What's it to ya? Anyway. Giving some what happened? Maybe... whatever. Desert in my throat. There's a bat gnat in here. Whatever. You forgot your jacket stupid. ...not getting in those tights again this year. You know last year I looked like Baryshnokov; this year I'd look like Jackie Gleason [black ink emblem of the United States Senate] Whatever. Just giving some test tonight. What was I going to say? And two pages to go still. It's already five forty-five. What else? When I get home...what? Jim seems like a bad joke tonight. Jim seems like a bad joke tonight. The suggestion of murder and robbery. Shouldn't I open the door out there? The students may be waiting. Class isn't 'til six, though. How's to--There was knocking at my chamber door. It was Sheryl. I've got to get my books. Oralia is here with her baby. I don't have any idea what to do tonight. I fell all discombobulated. My throat is dry and scratchy. My eyes are a little dry. My post-nasal cavity a little drippy. There are only three students here so far. My class is going to get closed form lack of interest before my credential expires. What else? Man, there ain't nothing. There ain't no life nowhere. My mortality strikes me hard suddenly. Douglas whatever-his-name's testicular cancer. Was that all it was? Four students. It's after six now. They don't like to come for testing. Would have maybe read some more Independence Day. Maybe on the way to work. I should have walked. I had some foreboding, though. Ana Rita walked in.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 11:57 AM
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