1-18-99 M 11:40 AM
Pyramid Lake, up off the Grapevine, not a bite all day, not a hint of a whiff of success, chilly dogs and water dogs--These salt and vinegar potato chips are good.  I had a little smoke and two of us bought eighteen beers.  Last night I went to Shirelle's.  I rode my bike there across LA with my broken-down fishing poles sticking out of my backpack and my creel slung over my neck and shoulder.  Two guys drove by in a lowered banana-yellow neon bug and drove by again and called out to me, was I going fishing?  "Yeah, tomorrow," I told 'em, wondering what the hell they were stopping me on my bike for.  "Where you going?" they asked.  They were Asian kids.  "Castaic or Pyramid," I said.  I wondered whether they could really only want to talk about fishing. I wondered so loud in my head, I couldn't hear what the driver said next over their chirping bug. "What?" I asked and still didn't hear him.  When he said it again, I didn't want to say "What?" again, so I said, "Uh-huh." He said, "Trout?"  I said, "Hopefully, but maybe bass."  He said, "We work at Sports Chalet."  Maybe they did only want to talk fishing, but I said, "Well, cool. Nice talking with you guys."  "All right," they said, and I bicycled away.  It was easier riding than last time.  Two dudes were brawling in the parking lot a the Formosa. One guy shoved another guy into an old Cadillac and kicked him and slammed the door.  He walked around to the other side to get in.  I stopped to watch.  It looked like one of the Formosa bouncers came out to see what was what. They drove off and I rode to Shirelle's.  I put in "From Here to Eternity."  I thought it was lame.  Shirelle wanted to watch this movie "High Art" that she had already seen once just the other day. "Eternity" is due back tonight, though, so I put that in, and Shrill want to sleep.  Now we're out here rocking in this skiff,  I feel ridiculous today.  I'm going to have to ride my bike back from Shirelle's.  Got to figure out what to do with that Doomsday cult story.