Revelations and All That

A plastic bag blowing in the breeze like an aerial jellyfish.                                 Pray without ceasing
1-14-98 Th 10:08 AM
Ugh.  Here we go again.  My desk.  Room 33.  Third grade.  With all the slackers who didn't do their homework and couldn't go to recess.  I think I need shoulder surgery.  I worked with my weights last night.  Wuz checking muhself in the mirror; thought I looked pumped up, but it was the same old flab in the mirror this morning.  Like I really care.  The bell rang.  I have to get the rest of the kids.  Yeah yeah yeah.  Whatever.  Got to finish that Bayles thing today!  I'll walk to the market and pick up a New Times and maybe some razors. Guess I better skip lunch, eat those carbohydrate-filled fries when I get home.  I'm throwing out some pork chops, too.  Ugh.  What else?  It was freezing this morning, but now it's not.  We have a three-day weekend coming up.   Supposed to go fishing.  Gotta call Rawler.  "Pray Without Ceasing" was in the Best American Short Stories 1993 collection.  It was about a down-and-out farmer who got drunk and shot his neighbor because he was desperate and felt insulted when he was told to sober up.  It was pretty ho-hum.  Whatever.  What else?  I never know what I really think.  Florelle told me she wasn't going to get married this year.  I was crossing the street while she was turning the corner in her Mustang.  She motioned me to hop in, so I did.  Fucking spilled a spot of coffee on the white strip of my sweater.  So whatever.  What else?  Charade.  Chithead.  Retard.  What else?  We have music after lunch today.  I want to eat, but not really out of hunger but to fill an emptiness.  What you want and your best judgment are not always the same thing.  Is it a spiritual thing?  Is the world spiritually corrupt?  Ugh.  As I was walking out to get my New Times, Florelle, and Gladys and Gloria called out from the running car, "Do you want to go to Carl's?"  The answer was no, but I went.  I can't explain it.  I didn't get what I wanted, a New Times, but got what I didn't want, a cheeseburger.  I told them about Bayles.  Asked what they think about Revelations and all that.  Seemed to bum them out.  They all seem to believe.  I say Hear no evil; See no evil; Speak no evil.  This is really starting to bother me.  I hope it doesn't prevent me from writing my story.  Why do we have writing?  Brazil's currency crashed.  Maybe it is true. 

What Meeting a Stranger Can Do

1-13-99 9:28 AM W
What now?  I can already tell this is going to be a struggle.  I hope I can get up to Hollywood video and back, walking, before lunch is over.  I hope they have "From Here to Eternity."  Maybe I should hold off going to Larchmont until after I've finished the Bayless story. You could see your breath this morning.  I'm wearing my new Idaho wool sweater. Haven't had a drink or a puff since the weekend.  I didn't shave this morning.  Does she think o' me?  Does she have someone?  Ack Ick Ugh. What else? The kids are writing about an article we just read about sleeping and dreaming.  Ho hum.  I could go for a drink.  ugh.  Help.  What else?  Maybe I can read a newspaper today. Nah.  I have some papers to correct.  These kids have memories you could sail a fleet of oil tankers through.       I walked to the donut shop for a cup of coffee.  Thought I might even splurge and have a croissant and juice. As I crossed the street and neared the door, I saw the reflection of YKW crossing the street behind me.  I held the door for her. "Hi, John," she said. That's my name.  She told me about her allergies, some pills she took that made her drowsy, that she needed some coffee. I asked if she was allergic to anything specific.  She said it was "general hay fever, maybe the smog." I said, "Yep.  It's a dusty town you live in now."  She mentioned a friend, a "he" who told her that the medicine she got would make her drowsy. I wanted to ask about him but didn't.  I asked her about freelance rates, told her I was writing a story.  We walked back to school, sat at a lunch bench.  I told her about the story.  She's inscrutable.  I'm a fool. [picture of a jester with bells on his hat and googly eyes and tongue out] What else?  The bell rang.  I got up and walked away.     I've got to hustle over to Hollywood video and back. It's going to be a close call.  I wish I wasn't so stupid.  How do these things happen? How can meeting just one person, a stranger, turn your life into a charade, your plans into regrets? 
Gotta go to night school tonight.  Gotta finish the Bayless story. Typed fifteen minutes today. Sharon loaned me "The Opposite of Sex" and "High Art" to watch. Shirelle borrowed high art because "It's about lesbians," she happily told me.

11-12-99 12:45 PM F

I found an onion in the dirt outside my bedroom window with a big slash cut into it and six T-pins stuck into it.  I’m now sure that Demona and Shirelle put a hex on my balls.  I had to talk to her briefly yesterday.  She called and asked me, “How are you?”  Even before I had discovered the onion, the question seemed loaded.  I see now that she was probing around to see if their spell had worked.  Getoff and I went to Santa Monica last night.  It was boring.  Kama Sutra called but said she was too tired to do anything.  Getoff and Carlos and I just sat around and drank and played guitar.  School sucks with no Anne.  My feelings for her are steaming along toward obsession just like I told myself I wouldn’t let them do.  Urgh.  Oh, well.  Can’t help how you feel.  I wonder if she would have dinner with me next Friday.  What can I cook?  I’ll look at that “Mangia” program for some ideas.  I get butterflies in my stomach thinking about it.  I went looking for Florelle at lunch.  Nattaz told me she went home early.  I wanted to ask her about that bed.  Today is payday.  Tomorrow I’m supposed to go down to my mom’s for my sister’s going away party.  I have a baseball game on Sunday.  What’ll I do today?  Go home and write and drink.   Head out tonight and blow money and hit on women.  I wish Anne was back from Tennessee.  I have to call that Faith woman about those classes.  I think Anne might be willing to love me back if I play my cards right.  Duh.  Duh.  Duhr.  Duh Duh.  6:50 PM  I had an erotic dream involving Florelle—maybe because she was offering a bed , and I had none.  I was sleeping alone on the couch at Getoff’s and Carlin’s.  She visited.  A fast, hot penetration and moistening.  A ravishing thing that woke me.  Yipes.  Carlin has been waving her tail around like a spring prairie hen.  How can you bank on hope.  Be patient.  I’m at Getoff’s now.  He made a shopping list with beer and whiskey and rolling papers.  Carlin went to the movies.  Getoff working out some good songs. 

Anthrax, the Trendy Terror Threat for the Turn of the Millennium

1-11-99 9:19 AM M
Back at school.  The kids have been telling me for an hour all about their vacation adventures and Christmas presents.  "I got..I got..I got."  Now they are writing in their journals.  I had a little dread about seeing YKW, but there was nothing to it.  Through the morning assembly, she whispered things to me.  I didn't know what she was saying, but she was smiling and laughing.      
We got the year started off right--under lockdown because of an anthrax bomb scare.  I love it.  Ninety-nine will be the year of chaos and panic.  So I still have to give YKW that Pinocchio book, but when?  Duh.  Duhr.  Ugh ack ick.  What else?  I typed for fifteen minutes this morning.  Should I put a little note in that book or just hand it over.  What else?  I told the kids I would write three pages before any of them wrote one, so we're racing.  The helicopters have stopped buzzing around.  Anthrax is the trendy terrorist threat these days.  I'm not even sure what it is--some kind of virus or something, I think. What else?  Maybe we'll write thank-you notes today.  Should do New Year's resolutions, too. I have to stop at the barber on the way to night school tonight.  That's it.  I'm all tripped out now. Should I go to room 45 at recess or put it in her box?  I need to talk to Florelle, too, and apologize for my New Year's no-show.  ~~~~Am I just fooling myself?  Is it the same thing as with Glorious last year?  Ugh. Ick.  I think Glorious was rooted in dissatisfaction with the present.  But I was relatively happy, ready to make it permanent, except for the strength of attraction and vision.  I'm not naïve enough to think all would be perfect, but it would make more practical sense, be easier, happier. YIKES!   What else?  I forgot my book.  "Did you get the Geisha book finished and back to the library?" I can say to her. Man, have I got a problem.  New pants she had.  It's almost recess now.  We'll read from journals after.  Then we'll do some math.  I can't decide whether to pick up where we left off or skip ahead.  What else?  I'm a nutcase.

Apocalyptic Holy War Freak

1-10-99 Su 5:51 PM
I just finished Hosea.  I don't know what it said.  Ephraim and idolaters and Samaria.  The prophet is a fool.  The spiritual man is mad.  I should give Florelle a call.  But what about Johnny Bayless.  Is the story compelling?  If I use enough apocalyptic holy war freak vocabulary.  Whatever.  What else?  No weapons were mentioned.  No bomb-building materials.  "Accused of plotting violence to bring about the Apocalypse."  How?  Whatever.  I'm not really caring anymore.  I still have to write those letters and e-mails.  What else?  Wishing I had a little weed right about now, to stir up a little Armageddon paranoia to help me write that piece.  I'll count that toward the third-person page this time.  What else?  "Look, uh, I hope that bit in the car isn't going to jeopardize our budding friendship.  What I said was true, premature probably, at least.  I know I'm like Pinocchio with this pointy nose of mine, but I tell you no lies.  Maybe I'm more like Lampwick with his red hair, freckle-face, gap-tooth look, and especially the long ears and donkey tail once he starts drinking.  What else?  What else?  I could go for a hit off the hash pipe, just to free my imagination.  Some lines from "Hallowed Ground" by the Violent Femmes come verbatim from Hosea.  What else!!!  "The Simpsons" looks like it'll be funny tonight.  Homer and Ned in Vegass.  Pablo wants to do a turnaround trip to stateline on a bus January thirtieth.  I said I doubted I could go.  Thing's boss got him airfare and accommodations for two in Vegas and he invited me.  Yikes.  WHAT ELSE?!?!  I hope I don't have any trouble sleeping tonight.  Too bad I passed out on the couch today.  That must have been a ninety minute nap.  Besides Bayless and the doomsday cult, there's a front-page story about Hayden Lake white supremacists.  That's where my dad and his wife live.  What have I got--about nine more lines?  What else is there?  I should fix the frame on Thing's "LA Confidential" poster.  True Crime.  Weird.  Fear.  I'm afraid to get married.  I could go for a puff right now.  It might give me some wild idea to finish this entry.

1-9-99 1:30 PM Sa
I'm at Shanghai Red's in Marina Del Rey.  The Broncos and Dolphins are on TV.  I just ate an all-protein feast. I worked out with weights this morning and typed fifteen minutes.  Tim wants to go have some drinks. Shirelle's going to straighten Sara's hair. I should just go home and write. Man, that's about it. What else?  I worked on Jim a little yesterday, but I didn't make near enough progress as I should have. Didn't work at all on my apocalypse project. A deer head sticks out of the brick over the fireplace.  I had some oysters. Their alleged powers seem to be working on me because I could really go for a bone right now. Oh, wait a minute--I guess those were mussels.  What else?  A guy plays synthesizer music for an arriving wedding party. I should call Thing.  I was supposed to go to the movies with Pete and him this morning, but I got Shanghaied. I should go for a nice long bike ride today.  I feel like going into the bathroom and giving my wanker a yank.  2:40 PM Tim and I are now in Venice Beach.  We're sitting in his buddy's second-floor apartment overlooking the beach.  Babes and trippers parade around on the strand below.  It's a sunny day.  Dozens of sailboats cut through the bay like shark fins.  The only hint of winter is the absolute absence of people on the sandy beach.  The swings sway empty in the breeze.  We're waiting for a guy named Max to bring some weed.  I bought a new pair of sunglasses.  Tom went to get beer.  He said we could play his guitar.  He said if we had some girls up here by the time he got back, we could come again.  "That sounds like a challenge." I went to the window and called down to the parade.  "Hey ladies!  Come on up!  We're getting some beer!"  A guy with a massage table set up on the sidewalk looked up, but that was it. When I finish this, I'm going to strum that guitar.  What else?  The Broncos are beating the Dolphins 21-3 at the half.  I'm predicting Minnesota over Denver in the Super Bowl. Wish I had those mushrooms for today.