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.
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.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 9:05 PM
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