12:30 PM 6-9-99 W
I went with Gladys to Jack in the Box for lunch.  Ugh.  So far, today has been pretty uneventful.  An excruciating student performance of "Rumplestiltskin," and "The Fisherman's Wife" tortured the auditorium this morning.  It was done in this repetitive chant, and it was way too long. Whatever.  I typed a [photograph looking out east window of 1222 S. Keniston Av] third-person page this morning.  I read the entire newspaper.  Apparently Milosovic has accepted NATO's terms of surrender.  When I'm done with this, I'll try to finish off another chapter of The Idiot.  It's sunny and cool today, as long as the breeze reaches ya, if not, it's a trifle stifling.     Javier brought me an apple.     Ms.  Horowicz volunteered to take the STEPS test to Walgrove for me.  I have to remember to Xerox a copy of the "Certification of Proper Administration" for Steindinner.  I just made Hyna and a boy named Brenden write the definition of the word "silent" on piece of paper as many times as they can.  What else?  [a pencil sketch of Mr. Toad] Now they're all reading silently.  What else do I have to remember?  I have to do a text book inventory by June 15th.  I have to call Racquel Lightbourne in the Bahamas AGAIN.  I'll have to do that tomorrow morning.  They're fucking stonewalling me.  I've got to work on Jim some more when I get home today.  I gave him an asthma attack yesterday.  Today, he'll tell about the cat.  ~~~  Crap I'm almost out of time.  Not only will I not get to read The Idiot, I won't even get to finish this.  Ugh.  We've got to do some science next.  Well, I guess I have to postpone Myshkin and company 'til after school.  [ticket stub from 1999 NCAA West Regionals Dedeaux Field]

6-8-99 Tu 12:09 PM
I scrambled eggs with cheese and green onions and ate it with bacon, a T-bone, and warm tortillas, and washed it down with some cold coffee and a glass of cranberry juice.  This is the first I've written today.  I'm skipping lunch.  When I got home from work yesterday, I passed out.  It was a hard sleep to wake from.  Not only was my mind asleep, but my entire body, maybe even my every cell was asleep.  When I woke, it took quite a few minutes to get my body moving again.  I drank some coffee and heated up some tacos and drove to work.  I haven't been riding my bike that much lately.  It shows.  I look like I'm eight months pregnant.  Whatever.  I read about forty pages of The Idiot last night, furthering my contention that Russian literature sucks.  Sheryl's sub spotted it and said how he read about a third of it before he gave up.  I said I couldn't blame him.  I do, though, think it's interesting that in a macho-type Russian culture that the real main character is not the prince but Nasstassya Filipovna.  Maybe it anticipates the gender ideals of the coming Bolshevik Revolution.  The plot centers around her, and the greatest theme so far is her plight as a woman, being an object to be bought and sold by men.  Her dramatic strike for independence, by throwing the thousand rubles in the fire, is the most vivid scene in the book so far.  It's also notable that she opts to go with the scoundrel Rogozhin, seeing his savage personality as her only escape from her confines.  I'll begin book two today.  The bell rang.  I'll be right back.
When I was done reading for the night, I watched the second half of the remake of "Mighty Joe Young," which I had rented and Shirelle was watching.  I liked it.  I thought it was cool.      After school today, I've got to try to fix Jim.  Why didn't they ask to use the girls' lug wrench?  They forgot?  It was metric and they needed standard?  They were too busy staring at Lainey's tits?  Does it matter that Jim has asthma and was captain of the track team?  Yes.  And the cat?  Yes.  What else?  It's muggy today.  Miss Dawn is supposed to be coming.  I saw her walking her chow this morning.  [pencil sketch of folded sunglasses laying upside down beside paper cup of coffee with plastic lid]

M 6-7-99 3:07 PM
I'm at the kitchen table.  This is the first I've written today.  I was busy all day coordinating the scoring of the latest standardized test.  It was a fucking boondoggle.  There weren't enough scoring sheets for half the tests.  We had to bubble information for every kid in third grade.  Then halfway through, I discovered that the scoring was different than what they had us do at the sixteen hours of training I attended earlier this year.  It was raising my blood pressure.  I had no lunch and no recess.  I couldn't read the paper or The Idiot or write in here like I wanted.  It sucked.  Whatever.  It's over now.  I still feel flustered, though.  Fuck it.  What else?  I have to stop by LACAS and pick up books and chalk.  I've got to straighten out my bills.  After this, I'll read some Idiot.  I've got to figure out how to get the tests to the scoring center at Walgrove Elementary which is by Santa Monica Airport.  Got to work on Jim.  It was mostly sunny today.  Myshea said a butterfly has two antlers.  Another girl liked butterflies because she likes butter.  I've eaten two and a half bagels today.  I've drunk one cup of coffee.  We have to turn in our grade-level project tomorrow.  We haven't even started it.  Maybe I'll have to borrow Shirelle's car tomorrow.  Eileen said maybe she could take  the tests to Walgrove.  Or maybe Elanor.  Fuck.  I don't want to write about this kind of paperwork bullshit.  What else?  I'm going to heat up Shirelle's leftover ravioli from Miceli's.  I read up to chapter seven in John.  He who believeth will be saved and he who does not will be damned.  I've got to take these videos back to Blockbuster.  I could just put a photograph here and be done.  I could try to draw the Streetcar Named Desire painting.  I could heat up some tacos.  My ankles hurt.  My wrist hurts.  But my back feels better.  Waah waah.  What [blue ink line drawing of cartoon baby] else?  My writing has been terrible.  I work too much.  Life's a ripoff.  What next?  Two more lines.  The walls are white.  The flowers are dying.

11:45 AM Sa 6-5-99
I'm on a break from a Focus-on-Cutting-Paper-Like-You're-in-Kindergarten Workshop here at Bancroft Middle School.  I've come over to Highland Grounds for a beer and some breakfast.  The waitress has a short shirt and unabashedly shows her love handles.  She looks like fun to drink a beer with.  It's a Bohemian joint with a lot of old LP sleeves from the fifties and sixties, all nerdy-hip, hanging on the wall.  I've written from here before.  I think I drew a bottle of salsa.  One of the records on the wall is "How to Live with Yourself...or What to Do Until the Psychiatrist Comes."  There's "Charo and the Sal-Soul Orchestra," Harmonica Favorites, "How Big is GOD?" and "Percussion for Playboys."  I'd like to have that last one.  All of them likely were obtained from Aaron's Records up Highland. I'm not the only geek in here writing.  It's a little disheartening to see what a common cliché I am.  On the other side of that is Benigno's loneliness.  ~~~~~I read the newspaper during the first two classes.  I wonder if there's any weed in my tobacco pouch.  I typed fifteen.  12:10  The "Breakfast Blues Burrito" hit the spot.  This place is buzzin' with the news that the toad at the end of the bar gave Wolf a ride to the desert.  I don't know what the hell that means, but the other forty people in here are fascinated by it.  [blue ink sketch portrait/subject unknown]  I want to see the Belmont Stakes today.  It's at 2:30.  I'm supposed to be in class at that time.  The cluster leader already busted me today because I never sign out.  I lied and said I only left twenty minutes early last time because my mom was flying in from New Jersey.  Actually, I left about seven hours early to go fuck around.  I'm on my second [Red Hook beer logo].  Maybe I should have a coffee, too.  I think we're supposed to see a stage version of "Reefer Madness" tonight.  They've got about two dozen different kinds of hot sauce on the bar in this place.  It's crawling with industry humps.  You can smell the ink and celluloid.  Whatever.

6-4-99 F 11:13 AM
The kids were watching "Small Soldiers," but I turned it off because they wouldn't watch quietly.  I'd be in trouble if Boss Steindinner were to pop in.  Ramal, who is black, just said to Hyna, who is equally black, "Shut up, blackie."  Has he never seen a mirror?  I wasn't sure how to handle that one, but counseled Ramal to speak politely.  Whatever.  I had orange chicken for lunch.  I don't know why.  I should have just stayed in, done this, and read some more Idiot.  Craig Warrior asked why I was reading it.  I don't know why I read anything, I told him.  I was probably attracted to the title, I said.  It might be a journey of self-discovery.  Coleco is reading her book, Twenty Thousand Baseball Cards Under the Sea.  I have to go to an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) meeting for Awbrey Shondell.  Monday, we have to score the STEPS tests.  I've got to fix Jim's thoughts running away from the broken window.  I'm going to smoke pot when I get home today.  What else?  Benigno, one of my night school students, said he wants to write a book about me.  Yeah, right.  He's clearly gay and may have a crush.  He's a trip on a lot of levels.  He said he doesn't like to work.  I laughed.  He said he was going to have to walk a long way to get home.  I gave his fool-ass a ride home.  He said white people were very smart and Americans the smartest of all.  I thought maybe we were the most willing to sell our souls, but I don't really know what it's like to live anywhere else.  He's lived in Mexico and now here.
Javier, is usually a pain in the ass, but he's been good lately.  "How come you've been so good lately?" I asked
"My mom said I could get a dog if I don't get in trouble at school."  He has been good three days in a row.  I bet his mom wasn't counting on that.
I had trouble with the crossword today.  The sub hasn't come to relieve me to go to the IEP meeting.

6-3-99 11:42 AM Th
I'm tired.  I'm at Papa Rico's.  I've got three slices of cardboard and a glass of lemonade.  I already read the newspaper.  I worked on Jim some a little after work and a nap yesterday.  I typed fifteen minutes this morning.  I think I'm on page sixty-nine now.  This is a little red-tablecloth joint.  The proprietors are Korean or maybe Chinese.  We're going to watch "Small Soldiers" after lunch today.  Too bad we have music.  What else?  I finished my three slices of pizza.  I'm still hungry.  An inflatable green frog hangs from the ceiling.  Must be to promote Budweiser.            I'm back at class now.  My mind is utterly empty.  My throat has been a little sore lately.  I wonder if I have throat cancer.  I have read up to chapter eleven in The Idiot.  Rogozhin shows up at Ganya's place drunk with a mob while Nastassya Fillipovna is there.  He insults Ganya by saying he could pay him not to marry Fillipovna.  Then Fillipovna whispers to Alexandrovna that she, Fillipovna, is not what she seems.  [blue ink sketch of Dostoevsky]          Now we're at music.  Music is written on a staff.  If there's a treble clef, then we have to hit the high notes, the right side of the piano.  Whatever.  I'm exhausted.  I can't think.  A little girl from Ms. Harrington's class is fascinated by what I'm doing.  Whatever.  What else?  The Cardinals are on in Florida this afternoon.  The lady from MOCA is coming to Pio Pico [photograph through blinds on Keniston] tonight.  I think I said I would be there at five thirty.  I haven't ridden my bike to Pio Pico in the last week.  No wonder I'm so soft in the middle.  I have to call Mariachi and Idaho when I get home.  I have to fart.  I'm sick of this crap.  Steindiner was on me about our grade-level project.