Either Way

W  12:55 PM 3-3-99
Ugh.  Ack. Ick.  Fuck.  Lauren asked when I was going to come to her restaurant.  Aigh.   "I'm looking for my missing piece.  I'm looking for my missing piece."  The buses let us off at Pan-Pacific Park yesterday, and the kids ate their lunches.  School was almost over by the time we got back.  I cut the kids loose on the playground and waited go home.  Anna actually spoke to me a couple times.  Nothing major.  I made pork chops at home.  Fernandez showed up with his financial advice.  That chewed up the whole afternoon.  I did the dishes, though.  Then I rode over to LACAS and then to Pio Pico.
F 12:38 P 3-5-99
I wanted to finish writing here when I got home Wednesday night, but I had left this journal here on my school desk.  So yesterday I rode my bike up to Larchmont to pick up my prescription and write at one of the cafes there only to discover that I had again left my journal on my desk at school.  So I worked the crossword.  It only gave me fits.  I went to Chevalier's and bought Islands in the Stream and Tropic of Cancer and Where the Sidewalk Ends and a couple volumes of Dr. Seuss stories.  I had already read both Tropics, but I had borrowed them from Thing, and wanted copies of my own.  ~~~~Carlos is going to use my credit card to order us Dodger tickets.  Nobody wants to go to happy hour today.  Whatever.  Nevermind.  I'm an idiot  Why am I going to assume the risk on these tix?  Whatever.  Nevermind.  What else?  I ate a donut and a turkey cheese croissant this morning.  There are classes here at Wilshire Hill all day tomorrow that I may try to go to to earn some salary points.  I was supposed to golf, but now I hear it's going to rain.  I'll probably wake with a paralyzing hangover tomorrow anyway and not do anything.  Lauren asked when was I going to come by the restaurant.  She said I wasn't talking at Q's.  Whatever.  I'm hungry.  Ninety-three minutes 'til I can get out of here.  It's payday.  I don't think I got my paperwork in on time.  I wonder how that works.  I haven't done any typing yet today  I read the paper.  Haven't read any Vivid Dreams yet.  Love's not enough.  Ugh.  Whatever.  What the hell else?  Maybe  should get a lesson going for next week [pencil sketch of Wily Coyote, looking sly].  Maybe I should tie a plastic bag over my head.  I better brace myself for a heavy weekend of Shirelle.  Either way, there's pain in my future.

A Heart-Breaking Peddler

2-28-99 2:30 PM Su
I'm exhausted.  I don't know when I got back to the room.  I won a few bucks at the stud table in the Stardust, but lost it all at the Desert Inn.  A hot little "masseuse" approached me with the idea of giving me a little rubdown back at the room.  Her name was Alexis, and she said it would cost a bill.  She was gorgeous.  While I gawked at her, she said, "Well, are you just going to look at a lady, or are you going to talk to her?" 
I said, "Let's talk.  Let's get a drink."
She said, "I don't drink."
I said, "I don't not drink."
She laughed and got down to business.  I told her to come meet Thing at the bar.  She said she was going to get her friend.  "Wait at the bar," she said.  Thing started trippin' and whining.  She came back a little while later.  She hadn't found her friend.  She said, "Well, just you and I can go then."
God, she was stunningly attractive.  I said, "You know what?  I'm not looking to climax 'til around midnight.  I don't want to waste your time.  Do you have a pager or anything?"  She gave me a card with her number.  She was insanely sexy.  Out on the strip, the pussy peddlers pushing all their cards and fliers were all Asian and Latino, immigrants, I guessed, because I would try to banter with them, but none of them knew English.  "Are you peddling pussy?" I would ask and they would say, "Pussy, yes, pussy," but that was about it.  I frequently kicked Things shoes so he would stumble as we walked.  We stopped at Bellagio for a piss.  We drank at New York, New York.  My jaw was flapping.  I got lost from Thing.  I went to Denny's and napped for a while with my face on counter.  I don't remember what I ate.  I took a cab back to the hotel.  I had to pay the cabbie with chips.  I found Thing at the bar at the Riviera.  We drank some more.  Then we went up to the room..  I couldn't find Alexis' card.  I became agitated trying to find it, but it wasn't in any of my pockets.  I stumbled back to the Desert Inn calling among the slot machines for Alexis, Alexis, Alexis, but I would never see her again.  Heavy-hearted, I slouched back to the room.  I called Shirelle and passed out.  Woke up in my clothes again this morning.  I was on the bed, but not in it.  My head didn't feel too bad.  I took a shower.  I ordered a porno, but I didn't watch much of it.  I had coffee and a croissant and read the local paper.  Thing and I went to the driving range and knocked some balls around. 

We Came in Under the Cover of Darkness

2-27-99 4:30 PM Sa
Live--barely--from poolside at the Riviera Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, Nevada~~~We came in under the cover of darkness.  I played blackjack and otherwise gambled until after sunup. I feel poisoned.  Everything in this hotel seems coated in contaminated semen.  Maybe the Belagio will be different.  I woke up on the couch in our suite this morning, or was it afternoon?  I gulped down some Tylenol and took a shower.  I don't know who I thought I was fooling, but I went up to the "Health Club" and did some bench presses and curls before the pain in my head intensified beyond my desire to lift weights.  I probably stopped in the nick of time before giving myself an aneurysm.  Sparrows buzz my head.  I went down to the gift shop and bought some more Tylenol and also a newspaper and some sunglasses.  Then I went to the bar where I found Thing having a tequila beer.  I got a screwdriver after waiting a while and saying, "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here?"  I tried to make sense of the headlines.  We went to the buffet.  The food was disgusting.  I felt like I would vomit. There was no puzzle in the paper.  Thing spotted a couple average-looking fine females.  He went over and apologized for how beautiful he thought one of them was.  She did have admirable titties.  In fact, she still does, as I can see her now in her bikini here now poolside.  They know I'm watching and they're playing to that, bending over for no good reason, enjoying it, I think. I lay in a chaise lounge a while.  The girls are leaving now.  I think they're mad that I'm writing instead of watching them or talking to them.  I can barely breathe after all the shit I been smoking.  They're coming this way.  No, they're not now.  Now they're gone. So what now?  I beat off twice yesterday to get it out of my system and be horny in Vegas.  I guess I should go change after this.  I'd sort of like a massage, but it seems too extravagant.  I asked the woman in the health club about it.  It's thirty-five bucks a half hour.  I asked if a man or woman was doing it.  The woman behind the desk said a man was doing it today.  I probably need a nap.  Like to see this New York, New York tonight, maybe a titty bar if I can overcome this poisoning.

2-26-99 F 12:31 PM
Class again.  I've got indigestion from my Chinese lunch.  I took two Motrin for my aching shoulder, but it still aches.  I have the hiccups.  A little dyspeptic diaphragm.  I had a wee puff before I left the house this morning.  Flew to school on my bike.  Shawn gave me a newspaper.  I just finished reading it.  The kids read speeches to be class president.  They were all for not ever having homework again.  No one believed Hyna's speech.  They booed her and called her a liar.  The we studied about the pilgrims and the Mayflower.  Then we studied about subjects and predicates.  I told them we were going to cut a sentence into its parts, but I made it sound like we were going to dissect a frog.  They got excited.  The kids on the computer wanted to come back to their seats.  They didn't even seem disappointed that we just cut up sentences and not frogs.  Herschel brought in a survey that I have to fill out.  I haven't read any Vivid Dreams yet today.  I'm going to have to pedal home after school and pack for Vegas.  Maybe I'll meet Thing at a bar in Santa Monica.  Or maybe not.  We're supposed to go to Irvine tonight to see the UCI Film Society's screening of "Salad Days."  I guess I need to make a lesson plan for a sub for Monday.  That's not going to reflect well on my character.  Coane, the music teacher, and I talked about boxing a long while yesterday.  What else?  I have to pass out these field trip slips.  Maybe I should just go home and nap until Thing comes.  Maybe I should "play" computer with the kids.  Leslie just came and took Shawn for speech.  She's got nice melons.  [a pencil sketch of a raptor soaring among the turrets of a castle with a book in its talons]

2-25-99 Th 1:11 PM
Trapped in room thirty-three with twenty idiot turd-graders.  I'm all jacked up on coffee.  Shirelle came home last night and announced to Thing and me that she has a yeast infection.  I was high and that tripped me out.  Then, naturally, she wanted to get all cuddly.  I had been watching "From the Earth to the Moon" in rapt attention until Shirelle brought me back to my base reality.  I was again filled with fear at the thought of vowing myself to her for eternity.  I had no time to write this morning.  I read the sports page.  Laker Coach Del Harris was fired.  I rode my bike to school.  I forgot my wallet, but Marco paid me the twenty bucks he owed me.  I got a turkey cheese croissant and an apple fritter.  At lunch, I stayed in my room and read the newspaper.  What else?  I haven't had the motivational desire to add to Jim lately.  What else?  School's over now.  I've got the kids whose names are under the sad face staying after to clean the trash off the floor.  Now what?  When I get home, I'll type for fifteen, blah, blah, blah.  Ralph and I talked about going to Hooters tomorrow.  I'll meet Thing there and we'll go to Irvine to see the UCI Film Association screening of "Salad Days."  Then we'll leave for Vegas.  Shirelle's going to meet us in Irvine. I should call Rawler and An to see if they're going.  How much money should I bring to Vegas?  Five hundred?  I'll have to play it smart.  We'll get there probably about two in the morning.  We'll drink a little on the way out, have a little smoke, listen to tunes, trip on the desert stars when we piss.  Drink and gamble 'til four or so.  Sleep 'til noon.  Read and write and eat breakfast.  Go to the pool.  Read some more.  Play poker for one hour with one hundred bucks.  Party and blackjack, strip clubs, downtown.  The graveyard of the signs.  Come home Monday by six.  I'll have to get a sub for Monday. I've got to stop by the LACAS office tonight.  Get there early and try to get my tests.  What else?  Maybe I should bring that Literary Las Vegas book of shorts and excerpts with me.  I probably won't even finish Vivid Dreams until after we've come back. What else?  I've got to go to the bathroom.  I wish I was an astronaut.  Outer space, baby!  Outer Space!  Oh, well.  I should Email Biddlecombe.

2-24-99 8:40 AM W
I had a hell of a time trying to sleep last night.  The sirens and copters were screaming like an anthrax strike had hit the city.  I was in the grips of narco-paranoia.  Though I couldn't sleep, I was exhausted, so, though my imagination was in overdrive, I couldn't rise to write.  The realtor was coming with two brokers.  I felt like Public Enemy Number One.  ~~~~I already ate Roscoe's just now.  That's where I'm sitting.  I decided to take the day off.  Maybe I can get some writing done today.  What about that Thalia woman I was supposed to meet with?  Richard is coming today, too.  I'll have to ask him about Y2K and taxes and home-buying.  Breakfast isn't sitting so good.  I'll make a steak when I get home.  I've got to do the dishes, too.  I'm going to need a nap today.  I have to return "Under the Volcano."  I want to read Islands in the Stream before I go to the Bahamas.  I read the newspaper this morning.  Spring training starts today.  What else?  Another inauspicious beginning for another journal.  What else?  I wish I'd hear back from these Bahamas people.  My check should be coming soon.  I wonder if I can buy that house.  Probably not.  I should try to ask some intelligent questions about it.  I've got nearly ten grand in my tax shelter and mutual fund.  Maybe I can borrow against that.  I'll have to talk to a loan rep at the credit union.  I've reached page 60 of Jim.  How much longer 'til I get to page 75?  To one hundred?  My shoulder is still screaming, but not like it was Sunday and Monday.  That coffee's got my leg bouncing up and down like a hyperactive third grader.  Shirelle asked if my dad would have her shot if we got married.  She was serious.  I was paranoid enough last night to wonder what kind of hate our race mixing would incite.  The doomsayers seemed inevitably right to me.  Vivid Dreams is well-envisioned and humorous; the characters and story are amusing but also very familiar.  The Indian hallucinations borrow from "Thunderheart" and "The Doors." The Sheriff reads like Sheriff Lobo or Jackie Gleason.  The narration tells more than happens.  I'm a better writer but for one gigantic exception:  I have nothing finished.  I'm a hack, a joke, a pretender, a wannabe.  Well, time to go.

2-23-99 Tu 1:17 PM
Class. Back with the stupid idiots.  We've got to do a couple of lessons still today.  Whatever.  My writing is getting worse and worse along with my attitude regarding life itself.  Whatever.  I'm fighting off a little cold.  My shoulder still hurts but not as bad as yesterday.  My thumb's still aching, too.  I cooked up a steak this morning.  Burned it while I cut my fingernails.  The house filled with smoke.  I didn't have time to write.  I don't seem too concerned with brushing my teeth lately.  I rode my bike to school.  Teaching seems more and more like a thankless job.  About half these idiots failed an easy spelling test we've been preparing for for two weeks.  You can lead a horse to water...I had a turkey croissant at lunch.  Shawn gave me a newspaper.  I just finished reading it.  I've got to read some more of Shawn's novel.  He's a good enough writer, but much of his novel reads like clever summary.  I'm definitely hearing the story rather than participating in it.  Whatever.  After school we have a meeting.  I have to disseminate what I was told at the meeting yesterday.  I've got to figure out what to say.  I took the night off school last night.  I guess I have to go back tonight.  I'll ride my bike.  I still have to type today.  I watched "Under the Volcano" last night.  Plot-wise, it hewed pretty closely to the book.  Finney put in the effort but was unconvincing as Geoffrey.  In the book, his death was tragic and necessary, in the movie it seemed like a tacked-on tragic contrivance.  I went to bed around ten. Now what?  I'm seriously sick of work, sick of writing.  My life seems like a prison today.  I'm supposed to go to Vegas with Tom on Friday.  Pete's screening "Salad Days" at UCI Friday.  I guess we're going to leave after.  How much money should I bring?  What else?  It's the hottest day of the year so far.  I could use a good massage.  That's it for book #32.