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.