Leather Pants'll Do That

11-7-98 Sa 8:40 PM
Oh, man.  It's my dad's birthday.  I didn't send him a card or anything.  It's hard to think because Shirelle's got on new leather pants, and she's itching to go out and bitching til we do.  My dad wants me to change our flight to Idaho so we can stay a day later.  I think that will cost another hundred and five dollars.  I've already got nearly eight hundred on my card for it now and a strong suspicion that Mac and Bernie won't pay up on their ends.  Whatever.  I've got to save dough still for spending money in the Bahamas.  Anyway.  Shirelle and the Guatemalan Insanity Pepper drove out to Montebello to pick up the car I rented for Mac and return it for him.  I said I had a secret plan after that, and I took us to Formosa, but it was closed.  I had a backup plan.  We proceeded to Miyagi's.  It was closed, too.  So much for my master plan.  We stopped at Red Rock.  I spent fifty-four dollars on food and drink.  Saw #1 Ohio State lose to Michigan State.  Beat the GIP at cricket.  Talked to a couple of army vets fresh back in the states from Bosnia, in LA for the first time.  Shirelle told them I was on "Jeopardy" and one of them was asking for my autograph.  Duhr.  I was embarrassed, even though he seemed earnest.  That's when we decided to leave.  He had said he was going to apply to the LAPD.  I didn't say anything about that.  Anyway.  We drove to Q's in West LA.  I thought I might arrange the "Jeopardy" party for there, but no manager was available with whom to discuss it.  Whatever.  We played pool.  I won both games.  We played a few rousing games of air hockey.  We had some controversy because it ended in a tie when I scored after GIP lost his paddle.  He said it should be time out.  I said it should be like when you drop your stick in real hockey, keep playing.  I won the next two games anyway.  Shirelle's smoking all my pot and complaining.  Whatever.  I won't get to work on Jim tonight.  I probably won't even get to do my third-person page.  Won't get to exercise, either.  Now Shirelle says let's go to April and Adam's and watch "Beau Geste."  That beats the hell out of Miyagi's.  I guess I should cut my losses.  Come back and write afterward.  I think Rawler will be coming out tamale.

11-6-98 12:30 PM F
This will be hard to do.  Got the usual lungs-full-o'-crap.  Sat at lunch with Florelle and Ana.  Ana seems like a real critic.  Florelle's her usual upbeat self.  We talked about drinking.  It made me want to drink.  I've had no breakfast or lunch.  I got pizza at home.  And beer.  I can do my third person.  Watch a video.  Read Independence Day.  What else?  I should call Rawler.  Go to Q's.  Email Sharon.  Get some exercise.  Wish I could go fishing.  Maybe we'll play Spello before our spelling test today.  Maybe I'll ride a bus somewhere.  I want to get The Rum Diaries.  I have finish Independence Day, though, and then Into Thin Air, and then the Dalai Lama's Kindness book, and The Last of the Mohicans, and I guess I lost my copy of The Red Badge of Courage.  And I have to sprinkle in some of those Richard-Ford-selected Granta stories.  I almost felt like I could work on Jim yesterday.  Suddenly for some reason I remembered that bar Georges on Nineteenth and Newport in Costa Mesa.  The Phi Delt bar.  Eric is helping Shawn type his book report.  The rest of the children are reading their library books.  We did a lesson on counting and order and place value for math.  We'll be studying prairies during social studies.  I have a thirty-minute video called "The Prairie Chicken" about sage grouses, I think.  We've got to do that spelling test today, too, and hopefully play some basketball.  What else?  Here's Antwon.  I need a Rolaids.  I could almost go for a puff.  I have sores in my nose.  I need to lengthen Jim.  I'm getting hungry.  What else?  Blue skies, but a mite chilly today.  The first morning chill of the fall.  I wore a jacket to school for the first time this school year.  What else?  I have no real plans for the weekend.  Haven't had that wide-open feel for a while.  I got to try to write a few pages to stupid ol' Jim.  Got to just finish it.  I have to write a letter to my uncle.  Here's Antwon again.  What else?  I'm hungry.  How would things be different now if I had gone to Taco Bell for lunch?  Would I be bloated, tired, and full of self-loathing?  O would I be satisfied and full of well-being --or maybe I would have been run over trying to cross the street.  Maybe I'd be asleep at my desk right now.  Maybe I would have found a hundred-dollar bill.  What else?  I saw a six-year-old girl riding with her four-year-old sister on the handlebars and her five year old sister on the seat behind her.  I remember doing the same stuff.  I saw two dogs sniffing each other.  The first dog waited patiently for the traffic to pass so he could cross the street.  Shirelle and I quarreled in the car this morning.

11-5-98 Th 1:35 PM
Nyah is reading "The Emperor's New Clothes" to the class; she was anyway, but no one was listening, so I gave them a paragraph to write.  I was up 'til midnight watching "Seven Years in Tibet" about Nazi mountain climber Henrik Herrer and the Dalai Lama.  I thought it was pretty good.  It sure gets you pissed off at China.  Assholes.  It totally made me want to wander the Tibetan mountainsides to Lhasa.  I wonder if it's still as inaccessible.  Still as mysterious.  Still as unwelcome to foreigners.  I just tried to install my encyclopedia to the computer, but kids have so hopelessly scratched it that it won't work.  I read the Daily News today.  Couldn't crack the crossword.  Haven't typed my fifteen minutes yet.  Slept an hour right through the alarm.  Had no time for breakfast.  Had a nasty bagel from Magee's.  Got zero exercise yesterday.  Feel particularly flabby.  Walked to Subway at lunch.  Had a six-inch turkey melt.  It was okay.  I'd still like to eat.  I wonder if that watermelon in my fridge is still good, though, as usual, I'm in the mood for something more substantial.  I have to crap.  Yesterday I had to piss and my hands were full and I was in a hurry so I didn't lock the door.  Sure enough, just as I was tapping out, one of the female assistants walked in.  Oops.  Duh.  Sorry. I said. 
What else?  Have to walk to freakin' night school tonight.  I don't mind the walk, but the teachin's starting to suck.  What else?  Shall I puff when I get home?  Got to do my fifteen and my 3p before 4:30 to get caught up.  What else?  "Mr. Zurn, can I go to the batchrume?"  School pictures came today.  I look funny.  Gap-toothed, one-sided, lined smile, receding hairline, unshaved, double-chinned [Self-portraint in blue ink].  Yeah, that's it.  I started drawing my hair a little too low, though, and now there's five curved vertical lines on my face that don't belong there, but that's pretty close to how it looks.  Jovanna, Dijonia, Bianca, and another girl are in here giggling and shrieking.  I guess it's time to go now.

"Does That Always Happen to You Here?"

11-4-98 W 4:08 PM
Shirelle and I are at the Petit Greek on Larchmont.  We picked up my medicine and rented "Beau Geste," "Seven Years in Tibet," and "Primary Colors."  As we walked down the street, I was looking through a shop window at this blond vamp who noticed me and overtly thrust out her hip and gave me an unmistakeable "try-me" leer.  I laughed.  "What was that?" Shirelle demanded.  I shrugged.  "Larchmont," I said.  "Does that always happen to you here?"  "Yeah," I said.  We sat down at this sidewalk table.  A girl walked by.  "I know that girl from high school," Shirelle said.  "Mika!"  They exchanged some pleasantries.  "This is my finacee, j," she said.  Fiancee?!  It was news to me.  "Hi," I said, letting it go.  We each have a glass of merlot.  Maybe I'll buy a book at Chevalier's as long as I'm splurging.  8:00 PM  I feel bloated as a corpse in the sun.  I have a new student in my class.  He's from Kenya.  His name is Juma.  He can't be too impressed with my teaching.  I don't now why I suck now.  My numbers have steadily declined this year.  My teeth hurt.  What else?  Almost half way.  I'm way behind today.  I have to finish this still and I haven't even done my third-person page.  I bought a copy of Blake's Poems and Prophecies.  Is that it?  The cover was scratched, so I got a deal on it, eighteen dollars instead of twenty-six.  I wanted also Thompson's Rum Diaries.  It was twenty-four bucks, though.  I thought I better wait until it comes out in paperback.  I should have gotten it, though.  That might jump-start my sorry ass.