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]
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]
posted by johnz at 5:32 PM
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