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.
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.
Labels: Lowlife LA Literature
posted by johnz at 6:20 PM
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