2:01 PM Tu 7-13-99
I'm in Cheetah's topless bar on Hollywood near Vermont.  I've been riding around the new subway line, exploring.  I just finished reading the paper.  I must seem like a freak reading a newspaper in a titty bar.  I kept getting flashed by a red light.  "...shuffling down the street, people think I'm crazy...What's the matter with you boy?"  Girl writhes in her bathing suit, mirrors and flashing lights all around.  Should I play some pool?  I'm down to my last six bucks.  I think I spy an ATM.  Uh oh.  I have to go to work tonight.  I had a little trouble navigating the multi-leveled underground labyrinth and rode the wrong train the wrong way a couple times.  There's a big-screen TV in here in case you need a break from looking at wiggling asses.  I don't know how I'll look reading Ernie in here.  I just rolled a smoke.  I didn't have a light.  The barmaid said they were out of matches, but she dug a lighter out of her purse.  It had little colored lights running through it, too.  She sparked it for me, and I puffed.  Kinda sexy.  I feel a bit shaky today.  What else?  I typed fifteen.  Ate a couple English muffins for breakfast.  My beer's gone.  My mouth's still dry.  Had a bong hit before I left.  I wonder if that contributed to my underground confusion.  Georgita.  [pencil drawing of Wild Spirit liquor label]  What next?  Pool table?  . ?  My smoke went out.  A fellow at the bar has a T-shirt that reads, Life's too short not to be Irish.  Beers are four bucks.  I've got to leave by 3:30.  I have an hour.