What Do YOU Think About at Boring Meetings?

10-13-99 W 1:30 PM

I’m at the Wyndham Gardens Hotel in City of Commerce, desperately searching my mind for a way out.  I don’t want to deal with all this bullshit.  I should be at the bar watching the Braves and the Mets. I was having a weird dream (What other kind are there?) There was water again, like there always is in my dreams.  Someone was chasing me again.  I woke up.  I could tell right away by how light it was that the alarm had not gone off.  I went to the shower and turned on the hot water before sitting on the toilet and farting a few times while reading about the Interstate Highway System in 1968 National Geographic.  I didn’t shave.  I didn’t put on a tie today either.  My back hurts.  I skipped breakfast, figuring they’d have bagels here.  They had muffins.  I cut off half of one, got a coffee, and found a table near the middle of the room.  I read the paper while I listened to the baloney.  Wilt Chamberlain died yesterday.  The US sells more weapons than all other countries of the world combined.  The Treaty to Ban Nuclear Tests will not be signed by the US.  And the Red Sox may win the series.  Whatever.  They had sandwiches and salad and cake for us at lunch.  You had to wait in a long line.  My lower back is killing me.  I never wrote after school yesterday.  I fell asleep reading in bed.  Drove to night school.  Ate Shirelle’s Golden Bird scraps for a second consecutive day.  Ana Gloria brought me about five pounds of pupusas.  I saw the Braves beat the Mets thanks to Greg Maddux.  I finished another chapter of Caribbean.  I start the Rasta chapter today.  I went to bed at ten last night.  I’m going to have to sneak out of here early.  I can’t take it anymore.  What else?  How good or bad would I feel if I go to the bar and have a whiskey and watch the game?  I’m supposed to write about pain for my third-person page.  What else?  I keep picturing the women here nude.  I imagine f-----g them.  There’s a fine mixed b---h right next to me whose ass pouts out of the space between the seat and the back of the chair.  Like to stick my d--k there.