1-21-99 Th 12:45 PM
I'm at scruel. We're going to leave for music in a few minutes. Woop-te-doo. I had another diet-busting ham and cheese croissant and strawberry milk. I bought a jelly donut, but I haven't eaten it. I got a new teacher's assistant today. Just one more person to whom I'll have to explain what to do to. His name is Tony. I asked if he had ever worked in a classroom before. He said he taught at a Bible school. So here we are now down in the auditorium. Mr. Coane, the music teacher, is teaching "Ode to Joy" with Beethoven's Ninth. I'm not breathing too good today, and I left my inhaler at home. A girl came in and said to me, "You're a nice man." I don't know where she's getting her information, but Ms. Boraz, who accompanied the girl, assured me that the girl didn't get that idea from her.
Mr. Coane is teaching the major scale now. Rodney asked me when we were going to play basketball again. Elmer said let's play some pool tomorrow. Shirelle wants to go to dinner tomorrow night. What else?
1-22-99 F 11:32 AM
I didn't realize I didn't finish this yesterday. Oh, well. I made bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. Maybe I'll go to happy hour after school today. Or maybe I'll just go home and drink and smoke and write. Tomorrow's that chess tournament, but I'm going to end up having to help Shirelle with her car. Ugh, all I want to do is get out of here and start drinking. Fuck it all. Why do I feel so jagged. There were a bunch of people in the teacher's lounge. Villasenor, Florelle, Leslie. I didn't have anything to say to anyone. "What's going on, j?" said Florelle. "That's a tough one," I said. I should have said, "I'm resigned to my fate and therefore numb." Cleanliness is Godliness, and God is empty, just like me. Salvador and Shawn are reading the LA Times. "This room is depressing," someone said. "Is that what it is?" I wanted to know, but didn't ask, because I don't think they were talking about the room but about me. The kids want to know how I get scabs on my arms. "Playing baseball," I tell them. We have to present the Word of the Week on Monday which is "conscience." What else? Who cares? I should have got a beer at lunch instead of sitting in that lounge. Florelle and I drew self-portraits. Whatever. What else? Drink Drink Drink Fuck Fuck Fuck. What else matters? Fuck Fuck Fuck doesn't even matter anymore. Shirelle's bummed because I haven't felt like boning her for three weeks. The reason why I haven't wanted to has since evaporated, like everything, but the behavior remains. Football or basketball for PE today? Maybe Shawn will let me do his crossword puzzle. I feel like I'm about to go berserk with cursing and violence. She hates you yeah yeah yeah. She hates you yeah yeah yeah. She hates you yeah yeah yeah yeah. [pencil line drawing of a third baseman diving for a baseball]
I'm at scruel. We're going to leave for music in a few minutes. Woop-te-doo. I had another diet-busting ham and cheese croissant and strawberry milk. I bought a jelly donut, but I haven't eaten it. I got a new teacher's assistant today. Just one more person to whom I'll have to explain what to do to. His name is Tony. I asked if he had ever worked in a classroom before. He said he taught at a Bible school. So here we are now down in the auditorium. Mr. Coane, the music teacher, is teaching "Ode to Joy" with Beethoven's Ninth. I'm not breathing too good today, and I left my inhaler at home. A girl came in and said to me, "You're a nice man." I don't know where she's getting her information, but Ms. Boraz, who accompanied the girl, assured me that the girl didn't get that idea from her.
Mr. Coane is teaching the major scale now. Rodney asked me when we were going to play basketball again. Elmer said let's play some pool tomorrow. Shirelle wants to go to dinner tomorrow night. What else?
1-22-99 F 11:32 AM
I didn't realize I didn't finish this yesterday. Oh, well. I made bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. Maybe I'll go to happy hour after school today. Or maybe I'll just go home and drink and smoke and write. Tomorrow's that chess tournament, but I'm going to end up having to help Shirelle with her car. Ugh, all I want to do is get out of here and start drinking. Fuck it all. Why do I feel so jagged. There were a bunch of people in the teacher's lounge. Villasenor, Florelle, Leslie. I didn't have anything to say to anyone. "What's going on, j?" said Florelle. "That's a tough one," I said. I should have said, "I'm resigned to my fate and therefore numb." Cleanliness is Godliness, and God is empty, just like me. Salvador and Shawn are reading the LA Times. "This room is depressing," someone said. "Is that what it is?" I wanted to know, but didn't ask, because I don't think they were talking about the room but about me. The kids want to know how I get scabs on my arms. "Playing baseball," I tell them. We have to present the Word of the Week on Monday which is "conscience." What else? Who cares? I should have got a beer at lunch instead of sitting in that lounge. Florelle and I drew self-portraits. Whatever. What else? Drink Drink Drink Fuck Fuck Fuck. What else matters? Fuck Fuck Fuck doesn't even matter anymore. Shirelle's bummed because I haven't felt like boning her for three weeks. The reason why I haven't wanted to has since evaporated, like everything, but the behavior remains. Football or basketball for PE today? Maybe Shawn will let me do his crossword puzzle. I feel like I'm about to go berserk with cursing and violence. She hates you yeah yeah yeah. She hates you yeah yeah yeah. She hates you yeah yeah yeah yeah. [pencil line drawing of a third baseman diving for a baseball]
posted by johnz at 7:02 PM
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