1:54 PM 3-30-99 Tu
I had another round of strange dreams I can barely remember except that there was some happy wonderful.  A couple girls from high school, Stacy Vole and Felicia Cotomal implied that they might enjoy sex with me.  I don't remember much more than that, but the fact that this old technicolor fifties adventure I'm watching with Burt Lancaster sailing from one exotic tropical place to another reminded me of it.  Boys' dreams of love and danger. 6:52 PM I'm at Q's in Brentwood.  I rode my wobbly-tired bike seven miles to get here.  You don't notice all the hills when you're driving.  It took about an hour.  I don't know if I'll ride it back.  The back tire is all fucked up now, worse than when I left the house, from going off curbs, I guess.  There are about a dozen unescorted sweeties in here.  When I first came in at five there was only the bartender, an old woman trying out her facelift on him, and a fat guy wearing a tie and suspenders.  Now the place is hopping.  I haven't talked to anyone, though.  I played three trivia games and won all three, but the competition wasn't exactly stiff.  Now what?  I may check out that Bandera place to see if Lauren is working.  I wish I could call Thing at Lightstorm and see if he could swing by and let me throw my bike in the back of his truck.  Maybe Shirelle will come get me.  We can go to her house and watch "Dog Day Afternoon."  My national rankings have not been so good.  Here's another little hottie.  Whatever.  What else?  After I finish this, I'll have finished all my writing for the day, but for, of course, Jim.  Kind of stuck there.  I read chapter three of Player Piano.  Genius.