6:48 Su 3-28-99 PM
This will not be easy.  All I've done is sleep today.  I don't know what's wrong with me.  I'm always tired.  Butt and I went to Callendar's for a so-so brunch.  The Orioles beat the Cuban national team in Havana.  Fidel was on hand.  Venus beat sister Serena at the Lipton Open.  A stealth fighter was shot down.  Makes me nervous and sick.  The Dodgers beat the Braves in a spring training game.  The Lakers beat the Knicks in a game full of silly skirmishes.  I read the paper, did the crosswords.  Haven't read the Bible yet today.  Thing and I golfed the three-par at Rancho Park yesterday.  I had one par and three bogies.  A couple of sixes and a seven and an eight.  After that we drove down to my mom's.  My uncle came.  Everyone wanted to see my burnt ass.  I made a joke about Siamese twins playing an accordion.  We watched old home videos from when pencil-thin arms hung down to my knees.  Came home and went to sleep without writing.  Shirelle's out drinking with some guy.  I haven't had drink in a week.  What else?  I started reading Vonnegut's Player Piano.  I'm thinking of going to McDonald's and Blockbuster.  I'll borrow Thing's truck.  I haven't exercised in ages.  I want to go out just to get even with Shirelle, but I still don't want to drink.  I'll have a little puff later.  Do a third-person.  I've got to get some more dialog in the car with the girls.  I'm going fishing tomorrow at Castaic with Rawler.  What else?  I've got laundry to do.  I've got to make an appointment for my shoulder.  I ought to see a dentist.  Got to do my fucking taxes.  My burn is getting itchy.  Garsh.