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.
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.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 11:19 PM
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