ugh
11-13-98 9:00 AM F
It's payday. Yesterday, Ralph called across the playground, "Hey, Zurn, when we gon get some basketball goin' atchyo house?" He made like he was shooting an invisible ball. I said, "How about tomorrow?" forgetting this whole Ralph Steadman thing, and El Coyote, and the margaritas I had planned. Zannat asked me about it this morning. I said, "Oh, yeah, I can't . I forgot about this book-signing I'm going to." But I guess I actually can do it; the signing isn't 'til seven tonight, so I guess we could play for an hour or so after school--except for all the oil Carlin's fucking car has left all over the driveway.
Whoa--!? I just got a wine craving. I forgot to bring Fear and Loathing with me. Now I'll have to walk all the way back home before walking all the way up to Beverly--another reason to play basketball--but what about the oil? Those guys are out of my league anyway. They're like the Harlem Globetrotters and I'm the New Jersey Generals. I'm better off drinking--that's what I'm good at. What else? Did fifteen minutes before night school last night. Did a third-person page after night school. Reheated my fried trout. 10:50 Gabbed a bite with A.V. Sigh. Estoy enamorado. La noche pasada, Shirelle me pregunto si pienso que estamos diferentisimos por cada otro. Yo dije--a veces.--Que pienso que es verdad por todos relaciones. Pero mi responsa significo para ella que yo quiero re-evaluar nuestro relacion. No es que dije, pero si es que yo pensaba. Atras de todo, en mi mente, es Anna Senorvilla. Pero yo he hecho esta misma cosa en el pasado, a querer alguien quien conozco, y siempre quiero alquien nueva. Pero todavia quiero invitar a Anna a El Coyote despues de escuela hoy, pero no tengo los cajones hacerlo cuando Shirelle estara alla. Ahora quiero invitarla a almorzar al restaurante China, pero ella parece critica, y preocupo que le gustaria la comida alla. Oh, well. Mi Espanol es mierda hoy. I think Demona is going to meet us at El Coyote tonight. What else? I started Richard Ford's introduction to The Granta Book of the American Short Story. He tries to refine O'Conner's definition of the short story, "an organization of words," to include the rigid narrative requirements of 1950's sensibilities combined with experiments in which narrative plot sometimes vanished into tone, mood, or atmosphere as was the hallmark of 1960's writers like Barth and Barthelme. I only read about half of the intro so far, so maybe that's why I sound like an idiot. It could likely just be that I'm an idiot. I have no desire to read the newspaper today. What else? It's lunch time! I'm going to abandon this lost cause to go eat! Yippee Skippy! Whatever. What else?
It's payday. Yesterday, Ralph called across the playground, "Hey, Zurn, when we gon get some basketball goin' atchyo house?" He made like he was shooting an invisible ball. I said, "How about tomorrow?" forgetting this whole Ralph Steadman thing, and El Coyote, and the margaritas I had planned. Zannat asked me about it this morning. I said, "Oh, yeah, I can't . I forgot about this book-signing I'm going to." But I guess I actually can do it; the signing isn't 'til seven tonight, so I guess we could play for an hour or so after school--except for all the oil Carlin's fucking car has left all over the driveway.
Whoa--!? I just got a wine craving. I forgot to bring Fear and Loathing with me. Now I'll have to walk all the way back home before walking all the way up to Beverly--another reason to play basketball--but what about the oil? Those guys are out of my league anyway. They're like the Harlem Globetrotters and I'm the New Jersey Generals. I'm better off drinking--that's what I'm good at. What else? Did fifteen minutes before night school last night. Did a third-person page after night school. Reheated my fried trout. 10:50 Gabbed a bite with A.V. Sigh. Estoy enamorado. La noche pasada, Shirelle me pregunto si pienso que estamos diferentisimos por cada otro. Yo dije--a veces.--Que pienso que es verdad por todos relaciones. Pero mi responsa significo para ella que yo quiero re-evaluar nuestro relacion. No es que dije, pero si es que yo pensaba. Atras de todo, en mi mente, es Anna Senorvilla. Pero yo he hecho esta misma cosa en el pasado, a querer alguien quien conozco, y siempre quiero alquien nueva. Pero todavia quiero invitar a Anna a El Coyote despues de escuela hoy, pero no tengo los cajones hacerlo cuando Shirelle estara alla. Ahora quiero invitarla a almorzar al restaurante China, pero ella parece critica, y preocupo que le gustaria la comida alla. Oh, well. Mi Espanol es mierda hoy. I think Demona is going to meet us at El Coyote tonight. What else? I started Richard Ford's introduction to The Granta Book of the American Short Story. He tries to refine O'Conner's definition of the short story, "an organization of words," to include the rigid narrative requirements of 1950's sensibilities combined with experiments in which narrative plot sometimes vanished into tone, mood, or atmosphere as was the hallmark of 1960's writers like Barth and Barthelme. I only read about half of the intro so far, so maybe that's why I sound like an idiot. It could likely just be that I'm an idiot. I have no desire to read the newspaper today. What else? It's lunch time! I'm going to abandon this lost cause to go eat! Yippee Skippy! Whatever. What else?
posted by johnz at 2:27 PM
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