Going Downtown Might Not Mean What You Think It Means
11-19-98 12:45 PM Th
When I got home from work last night, Shirelle was screaming to Thing to come see the actress from "The Rock" on "Beverly Hills 90210."
"THING! THING!"
"What? What?"
"COME HERE! COME HERE!"
You would have thought they were showing her winning Lotto numbers on the screen.
I couldn't think of anything better to do, so I suggested that we take a run up to Jerry and Biddie's. I brought a glass of bourbon with me for the ride. I stopped at Seven Eleven for cash. I handed Shirelle eighty dollars so that she would finally get some fucking head shots and some work. I said, "This money is for head shots and HEAD SHOTS ONLY, and if you use it for anything else, I'll leave you. This is an investment in OUR future. You use that money to make more money."
"Okay," she barely said.
A few years ago, I gave her two hundred dollars for head shots. She used the money for a Gucci purse. I should have shot her in the head.
Anyway, we left J&B's with some weed and went back to my house. I gave her a generous portion as a kind of finder's fee. since I'm not comfortable dealing with J&B on my own. Then I rolled a joint and opened another beer. Shirelle went to bed. I sat on the couch and adored the titles on my bookshelf. Then I went to bed, too. I thought of what seemed like all these great ideas, but I was too tired to get up to write them. I tried to remember them on my fingers, but now I don't know what they were. I was thinking I should meet with Principal Eisenstein to clarify my position on Action Learning. I was full of purpose lying there in bed. I awoke at four in the morning to one of Shirelle's sneezing fits. I never got back to sleep. I showered and dressed and asked Shirelle if she wanted any eggs. She didn't. I fried a couple over medium for myself and ate them with a banana and juice. Shirelle started pestering me about "going downtown." She was not talking about me eating her pussy, but going to the Jewelry District. I told her I thought she was being a little rude. Whatever. I'm not ready to go downtown. Her job is to be cheerful. That will make me want to do it. Not nagging. Whatever.
I walked to school. Ms. Washington wanted to know why I was wearing sunglasses, what was I hiding? The fact that it was a bright day didn't seem to occur to her as any kind of reason. I guess since I haven't shaved, I looked like my eyes would be bloodshot. She later told me she was going to the doctor because of memory loss.
I finished Into Thin Air--a great book. Everything they say--"gripping," "riveting," etc. --is true. I whipped through its nearly four hundred pages in a few days. Now I want to climb Mt. Whitney this summer for sure. Got to call Modchill, and Peachtree. Walk to LAHS. Write about that shit that sticks to the bowl above the waterline. What the hell bacteria is that? How is it so adhesive?
When I got home from work last night, Shirelle was screaming to Thing to come see the actress from "The Rock" on "Beverly Hills 90210."
"THING! THING!"
"What? What?"
"COME HERE! COME HERE!"
You would have thought they were showing her winning Lotto numbers on the screen.
I couldn't think of anything better to do, so I suggested that we take a run up to Jerry and Biddie's. I brought a glass of bourbon with me for the ride. I stopped at Seven Eleven for cash. I handed Shirelle eighty dollars so that she would finally get some fucking head shots and some work. I said, "This money is for head shots and HEAD SHOTS ONLY, and if you use it for anything else, I'll leave you. This is an investment in OUR future. You use that money to make more money."
"Okay," she barely said.
A few years ago, I gave her two hundred dollars for head shots. She used the money for a Gucci purse. I should have shot her in the head.
Anyway, we left J&B's with some weed and went back to my house. I gave her a generous portion as a kind of finder's fee. since I'm not comfortable dealing with J&B on my own. Then I rolled a joint and opened another beer. Shirelle went to bed. I sat on the couch and adored the titles on my bookshelf. Then I went to bed, too. I thought of what seemed like all these great ideas, but I was too tired to get up to write them. I tried to remember them on my fingers, but now I don't know what they were. I was thinking I should meet with Principal Eisenstein to clarify my position on Action Learning. I was full of purpose lying there in bed. I awoke at four in the morning to one of Shirelle's sneezing fits. I never got back to sleep. I showered and dressed and asked Shirelle if she wanted any eggs. She didn't. I fried a couple over medium for myself and ate them with a banana and juice. Shirelle started pestering me about "going downtown." She was not talking about me eating her pussy, but going to the Jewelry District. I told her I thought she was being a little rude. Whatever. I'm not ready to go downtown. Her job is to be cheerful. That will make me want to do it. Not nagging. Whatever.
I walked to school. Ms. Washington wanted to know why I was wearing sunglasses, what was I hiding? The fact that it was a bright day didn't seem to occur to her as any kind of reason. I guess since I haven't shaved, I looked like my eyes would be bloodshot. She later told me she was going to the doctor because of memory loss.
I finished Into Thin Air--a great book. Everything they say--"gripping," "riveting," etc. --is true. I whipped through its nearly four hundred pages in a few days. Now I want to climb Mt. Whitney this summer for sure. Got to call Modchill, and Peachtree. Walk to LAHS. Write about that shit that sticks to the bowl above the waterline. What the hell bacteria is that? How is it so adhesive?
posted by johnz at 7:58 PM
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