3:14 PM 5-22-99 Sa
I put on a gray tie with little white polka dots.  What's the difference between a dot and a polka dot?  Anyway, I thought I'd wear it and tell my little sister I was going to follow her to the prom.
Shirelle walks into the kitchen.  "Finished," she says.  She was out back smoking a cigarette.  'Finished' means we can go now.  I wanted to write this at Farmer's Market, but I ran out of time.  I had to settle for the paper, and a bloody Mary and a Kahlua and coffee and two Bohemias at El Coyote.  An old guy named Bob and I were talking about silent movies.  He claimed to have a huge collection and invited me over to watch some some time.  He didn't seem gay.
3:47 PM  Shirelle's speeding us down the freeway.  She wants to know why we're fighting.  I didn't even know we were fighting at all.  She was going to put headphones on and go into Shirelleland.  In the course of conversation, I said that was kind of rude.  I guess it bothered her that I said I thought putting headphones on was kind of rude.  She said, "Now I'm pissed."  She says she has narcolepsy.  She says she falls asleep if she drives long distances.  I think it's an excuse, laziness, a lack of mental discipline.  I think it has more to do with her wanting to be able to drink all she wants and not have to worry about driving.  She strikes me as a selfish brat.  She has a nebulous idea about others.  I think to myself, she's deaf, dumb, and blind, but a pity she's not mute.  I have to write something.  Whatever.  We're going to see Mardi two days after her overdose.  There's a fuck lot of traffic on the Pomona Freeway, a few May raindrops on the windshield.  After this, I guess I'll just go home and work and drink.  Read a Ring Lardner story.  I might read The Idiot soon.  This traffic sucks.

Amy 555-2488
5-21-99 11:11 AM F
I'm thirty-one today.  It's a gloomy sky.  I'm on cruise control with the kids.  They're coloring the Mexican flag right now.  I read the newspaper.  There was another high school shooting.  Six kids were shot this time.  I'm just on auto-pilot 'til I can get out of here in about three hours.  I don't know if I'm going to eat lunch today.  I would like to finish the Nin diary.  I don't know what I'm going to do tonight.  Leslie, Laurel, and Amy were asking what was up.  I suggested maybe we meet at Mateo's around nine, then go to Nick's Martini Bar or something.  Zannat said he's put me on the guest list at Good Bar on Sunset, but that I needed to get there by eleven.  After school, I might go to that retail place by Ralph's and buy some new duds and shoes.  I got a birthday card from my dad and stepmother yesterday with a check for thirty dollars in it.  That's odd from them. Whatever.  What else?  Twenty minutes 'til lunch.  [pencil sketch of the cover of Where the Sidewalk Ends]  Canon  12:29  I ate some Kung Pao chicken for lunch.  It was all pretty unremarkable.  I can't wait to get home and have a beer.  Where is the "Good Bar?"  On Sunset somewhere, but where?  I put some more on Jim today.  I must be on page 67 now.  I don't think it's going to win any Pulitzer nominations.  I faxed a request to the district for 20 Spanish tests in math and 20 in reading.  They sent me 20 English tests.  Who will drive tonight?  What else?  What else?  The horoscope says, "If May 21 is your birthday:  You are versatile, highly intelligent, and possess intellectual curiosity.  You seem constantly on the edge of something of momentous importance.  You are alert, dynamic, creative, and full of nervous energy."

5-20-99 Th 11:36 AM
I've been standing on Hollywood Boulevard for three hours waiting to go into the Mann's Chinese to see the new "Star Wars" movie.  I was the fourth person in line when I got here, but the people in front of me have since let in about ten Johnny-Come-Latelys go in front of them.  I'm going to make sure to sit tall right in front of one of them with my hat on high.  I've been reading the paper while I wait and listening to a zealot who's waiting in line to see it for the fourth time in the last thirty-six hours.  He named his son Annikin after the young Darth Vader.  I'm standing on Glenn Miller's star.  It's overcast today.  I picked up some Carl's Jr. to eat while I waited.  I typed fifteen minutes this morning.
I'm in the theater now.  Big red curtain.  Chinese art.  Ornate ceiling.  The movie is scheduled to start in about thirty minutes.  The Star Wars nerds are buzzed.  I'm sitting closer than I want to just so I can sit tall in front of the little bastard who was letting everyone cut in line.  After the movie, I'll head home and type.  I'd like to take tonight off from night school.  The popcorn smells good, but I'm full of Carl's Jr. What else?  I would like to get good and drunk today.  I have to spend hours, hours, hours working on Jim today.  He said, "Oh, wait a minute man.  We just have to get a lug wrench.  It won't take a minute."  "Sorry, sir.  Store's closed."  He was an officious little fat son of a bitch, a guy used to getting kicked around who looked for and savored every opportunity to exert what little authority he had over others.  "Come on, dude.  It's an emergency.  Besides, it's only five to nine.  According to the door, you should be open five more minutes."  "Not according to my watch," he said and walked away.  "Grbtfuckingfucker," Jim said to a trashcan by the door before spitting on the glass.  His eyes hurt.  The muscles in his jaw pained him.  The energy of his anger pumped through his arms and legs.

5-19-99 W 11:22 AM
My kids are too stupid to teach today, so I'm just letting them do whatever the fuck they want.  I went to Burger King at recess.  Maybe I'll rent some videos at lunch.  Maybe I'll sneak out for a puff at lunch.  Too bad I don't have my Visine.  I have to find out about the administration manuals and Spanish tests for STEPS.  I'll read Nin after that.  I'm going to write another page of Jim today for sure.  I'll be at work when the Lakers are on tonight. I'm going to take the day off tomorrow.  Maybe I'll party after class tonight or see "The Phantom Menace."  I'm going to need some coffee to finish this day.  I can't wait to escape these damn kids.  What else?  What else?  What else?  It's time for lunch.  Laurel Gershon 310 555-8907.  After lunch we'll read a while.  Then we've got to read our science books.  Dawn is supposed to come today, but most of the kids will be at rehearsal for the Latino Cultural Program.  12:27 PM  I went to the Royal Crown Market for coffee.  When I was walking back, I spotted Laurel and Leslie at Papa Rico's.  So I went in to say hello.  They said, "Why are you following us?" "I just came in to say hello," I said.  We walked back to the teacher's lounge together.  "How's your girlfriend?" Laurel asked.  "Fine," I said.  There was a silence.  Leslie laughed.  Laurel made a dissatisfied face.  "Uhm, she's..." I tried to say something else, but "...fine," was all I could come up with.  She put up her hand as if to put a barrier between herself and my lameness.  "Well, what about you?" I asked.  "There must be some guy who worships the ground you walk on."  "No," she said.  "I'm taking a hiatus from boys.  There's a boy I have a crush on, but I can see where that's going."  Was she talking about me?  I think she was.  Leslie said, "Laurel, you know johnz's birthday is Saturday.  "Are we going to celebrate?" Laurel asked.  "Sure," I said.  "I like how we have to twist your arm," said Leslie.  "I want to go to Mateo's," I said.  Leslie recommended Nick's Martini Bar in Beverly Hills.  I said, "Shirelle wanted to have a birthday/housewarming at the new house, but..."  "That's a lot of work," Leslie said.  "Yeah," I said, "and we just had that thing last month.  I don't want people to burn out on my social invitations."

5-18-99 Tu 12:41 PM
The new "Star Wars" movie comes out this morning.  I'm in class.  The kids are supposed to be doing silent reading, but they're mostly all just whistling and fucking around.  I just now told them I would put the name of the next person I heard under The Sad Face.  That shut 'em up.  I ate Taco Bell at lunch.  I read the paper.  We studied proper nouns.  We took a test on time and graphing.  It's sunny and cool today.  Perfect SoCal weather.  Too bad we have a stupid staff meeting after school.  I'll get home around four.  Write about Jim's Tourette's.  I think I'm going to have him throw a garbage can through the window at Chief Auto Parts.  Then, they'll run to K-Mart.  I've got to teach night school tonight.  What else?  Got more Nin to read.  I prefer Rank's theories over Allendy's, but I'm getting bored with all this personal psychological analysis.  Sixty more pages.  Then what will I read? A Lardner story.  A novel. I saw Javier and Myshae making paper airplanes.  I put their names under The Sad Face and said that no one should be making paper airplanes during silent reading. They said okay.  They took out their books and started reading.  About twenty-five seconds later I looked up and they were making paper airplanes again, and now Jessica was making one, too.  I gave Javier and Myshae checks, and wrote Jessica's name under The Sad Face.  I said, "You know, maybe some kids need to go to the doctor and have their heads cut open so the doctor can figure out what's wrong with their brains."
2:31 The bell just rang.  We played baseball.  Now I've got to go to our staff meeting with a sweaty butt crack.  What else?  A nice breeze blows.  4:27  The meeting bit.  Anna talked about a kid that was always licking her.  She said, "I wouldn't even lick myself...or maybe I would."
"Right," I said.  "Like why does a dog lick his balls?"
"Because he can," she and Zannat said in unison.
Anna said she was going to find a sugar daddy this summer.  The Redwings and Avalanche are coming on.  It's do-or-die for the Redwings.

M 5-17-99 3:20 PM
I'm at the Starbucks on Highland and Wilshire.  I dropped off some film down the street.  I stopped here for an iced coffee and to read the calendar section and do this.  Oh, God, I'm a cliché.  A jacaranda grows out of the sidewalk.  It's not blooming yet like most of the others I've seen this spring, but the leaves are positively glowing.  I've got to go home and work on Jim.  I've got to stop by the LACAS office.  I've got to get a new payroll sheet.  I'm sitting next to a couple Korean losers smoking one cigarette after another.  Not that I'm any paragon of virtue, but chain-smoking really does mean you have lost on so many levels.  We had that STEPS meeting at school today.  Blah blah blah.  What else?  Buses rumble idling at the red light.  The billboards advertise the opening of the Red Line up to Hollywood next month.  I bought some film.  I read some Nin today.  Rank believes Allendy's Fruedian psychoanalysis is reductive, trying to fit the patient to the diagnosis.  He believes in something more expansive.  Whatever.  I still have about eighty-five pages more.  I feel like literature is failing me.  I feel like I understand life, but I don't experience it.

A guy just brought me a sample of coffee.  "Sumatra," he says, "from Indonesia."

What else?  My iced coffee was all ice.  I think MOCA will start coming to night school this week.  That will be nice.  I poured my Sumatran "from Indonesia" coffee in my ice.  Those Korean dorks are on their fifth cigarettes since I've been here.  They only smoke because they are insecure.  Smoking is a mask and shield for them.  They smoke to say, "I am not afraid of you.  I am not afraid of death."  But having to say so shows they are.

To Starbuck, the whale was just an animal.

[city bus stop, sketched in blue ink]

Su 5-16-99 9:36 PM
I'm lying in bed.  A television movie about Joan of Arc is on.  I just finished reading up through chapter 21 of Luke.  The Parable of the Seeds.  My body shudders and the walls creak.  Luke is rich, I'm too lazy to say how or why.  Capitalism is anti-Christian.  Christianity cares nothing for the self.  We went up to IKEA.  They didn't have in stock the coffee table we liked.  We'll have to try another time.  We got a little lamp for the bed stand.  Them we came back home.  Shirelle made stuffed pork chops.  I haven't read any Nin yet today.  Anais was in the cross word this morning.  Whatever.  A Viagra commercial just came on.  Ha.  What else?  The Maid of Lorraine.  This has been such a dull weekend.

12:12 PM Sa 5-15-99
I ducked out of my classes early.  I'm at El Coyote having a Bloody Mary.  I left after the first workshop and went to Norm's and had a big-ass steak-and-eggs-and-hash-browns-muffin-and-waffle-and-biscuit-and-gravy-and-coffee breakfast.  After class yesterday, I went home even thought it was Friday because I was tired, but my gay neighbors were in the backyard fussing loudly over a palm tree.  I mention they're gay because their voices and gestures matched the stereotype.  They said it was ugly and attracted rats.  Whatever.  They had a couple Latinos working for them, but they had no saw.  I loaned them a saw.  They never brought it back, come to think of it.  One of the gay guys noticed I was the guy who didn't give a damn about how much he bitched whenever he came over to the house on Keniston to complain about Ron's dog barking.  Ron lived in the other half of the duplex, and I didn't like the dog barking either, but had learned to tune it out.  It wasn't my dog and it didn't belong to anyone in my household, but he still seemed to think there was something I should do about it because I was the one home when on the several occasions he came to complain.  He got into it again, even though we were at a whole nother house with no dog at all.  He conceded that he was a b-i-t-c-h (he spelled it out).  Too fucking funny.  But he kept on about it.  I had to keep from killing him by bailing.  I rode up to Larchmont and picked up my prescription.  Then I rode over to Molly's and stopped by the Van Gogh hullabaloo and saw the band and had a smoke.  Then I rode home.  Susan was just leaving. "Don't tell Billy I'm going out with someone else," she said.  The GIP was there.  I wasn't all that thrilled about it.  He left.  Shirelle wanted to go to dinner.  We went to the Radisson on Wilshire and had sushi and watched a nail-biter King loss to the Jazz in the last second,  Then we went over to the Gaylord to see Thing.  We [blue ink line sketch of two men sitting at a booth at El Coyote] went home.  Got a hummer as I was dozing off.  Then the alarm went off this morning.  I showered, etc.  And now here I am.  A guy here talks in a working-Clash British accent, but he sounds like Goofy.  I've seen him in here before.  He's telling about some women who crashed their U-Haul van three times in the same day.