11-17-99 W 5:05 PM
I'm at the house.  It's well into dark outside.  I'm hungry today.  I added a few lines to Jim when I got home from school.  Then I read Poe's "Morella."  Funny.  Very Funny.  Then I typed for fifteen minutes.  I ate one of Kristie's pumpkin bars and two of Jean's wontons.  I printed pages eleven through twenty of Jim.  I think Mary Murphy Hoag is supposed to be coming out tomorrow, and we're supposed to meet for dinner.  I should try to get a good night's sleep tonight.  Do a third-person page when I get home.  Try to figure out what to do about this DMV bill.  Look for the bill with that Blockbuster late fee.  I'm I'm restless; maybe I go rent a movie.  Maybe I'll rent "Anatomy of a Murder." I have to leave for work in about an hour.  I bought an umbrella.  Ugh.  What else?  How much longer should I hold onto that onion?  Should I eat it?  It's going to be a cold, dark bike ride to and from work tonight.  I'm not going to remember how to teach that class.  I was thinking I ought to try to live like James Bond for a while.  My only goal with women: to seduce and be seduced.  For like a year, nothing serious.  Ugh.  Pierce Brosnan is on the cover of TV Guide here on the coffee table.  I got a sympathy card from my aunt and from the people at LACAS.  I wish I could draw a picture of something.  Shirelle took my paints and brushes. 

5-17-99

I saw a man walking on Pico

with a busted hand. It was in

a cast. I figured he got drunk

and punched something. It made

me want to drink.

11-16-99 Tu 12:18 PM
Ugh.  I did not sleep well last night.  I ate a salad at breakfast and a pumpkin bar.  I played a little guitar.  Rode my bike to work.  I felt fine 'til I saw Senorita Villa.  It's like I've got the plague all of a sudden.  She can barely bring herself to tinkle a couple of fingers in a half-hearted wave.  I guess she knows I'm interested and wants to discourage me so as not to lead me on.  Maybe Shirelle and Demona put another spell on me.  Whatever.  It makes me hurt a bit.  But fuck it.  I'll not care.  Where does this leave me?  The kids are doing Silent Reading.  I'm going to show them that cool old "The Living Desert" documentary--As soon as Angel and Benjamin get back from Villasenor's with the TV her sub borrowed last week.  I got stamps at lunch.  I only had enough money to get ten.  I'll put those bills in the mail today.  I don't know what to do about that fucking bill Gurlytzki's office keeps sending me.  Ugh.  I'm not even sure I should call Kristen.  That will only cause an ugly situation.  The kids had to go to the bus safety assembly this morning.  I got to read a little about string theory in peace.  We talked about topic sentences and supporting details in a paragraph about Mount Cameroon.  At recess, I dropped off some paperwork about my State Teacher's Retirement and some other paperwork.  We studied place value to the thousands after recess.  I skipped lunch.  Did the crossword alone in my room.  How dare me think that this could have gone happily.  Ever the fool.  How can I forget that the bottom line for me is always that I'm fucked either way?  Oh, get off it. I've got to read Poe after this.  I read "The Assignation" yesterday.  It suggested that beauty is non-existent without sadness.  Senorita Villa seems an apt example.  My sadness is related to her beauty.  When do I have to go to fucking Vegas?  I wish I could get out of that.  I have to call Gil and tell him Mariachi will play for us Sunday.  I think I'm getting a hernia or something.  Maybe I should wait until I have a car before I do anymore household purchases.  What is it about me that makes women, especially beautiful women, want to treat me like shit?  Who cares?  I wonder if we can cancel mixing today.  I should at least get an iron today so I can iron those shirts and put the ironing board away.  What else?  I don't have to work tonight, but tomorrow I do.  I probably won't have any students left.  I should go out and drink all night since it's my last chance not to have to work on a Tuesday night for a while. 

11-15-99 M 1:47 PM
I woke up at ten yesterday and waited nearly an hour and a half for Thing.  We went up to Burbank again to pick up my bed frame. I just barely got to my baseball game at Cheviot Hills in time.  I walked and scored and got beaned in the ribs and scored and struck out twice.  I had a nice scoop at first, but they moved me to third, and I kind of muffed a throw from center that would have been the third out and given us the win, but that guy scored, and we had to settle for a tie. I still have a big welt from getting beaned, and various little sore spots from getting hit with that chair during Saturday night's fistfight.  I wrote all about it on my computer.  After the game, I showered and did some laundry and called Thing.  We went down to Downey and picked up the box spring and mattress from Florelle.  From there we drove to my mom's house for my sister's going-away party.  Kirsten was there.  She's so lovely.  I started to picture her as a mate rather than Anne.  I know I'm a fool.  We sat next to each other on the couch most of the night thigh-to-thigh.  I told her about the onion.  We talked about Shirelle.  She suggested we get together some time.  I said I'd call.  Thought about it all the way home.  Anne still had the edge. When I woke up this morning, thoughts of them mingled.  I had been planning to ask Anne out this upcoming weekend.  When I saw her this morning for the first time in over a week, it was anti-climactic.  She seemed perturbed about something.  As usual.  I wonder what bothers her.  Whatever.  I read the paper.  We wrote in our journals this morning.  At recess, I took care of some crap.  Did more rounding to the nearest hundred.  Skipped lunch.  I've only eaten a celery stalk today.  Talked with Florelle about my weekend, the onion, the fight, the nineteen-year-old.  We finished reading our desert chapter. I've got to pay my bills, put that bed together, buy an iron and a mop.  Call Kirsten?  I wonder if I have to work tonight.  I think not.  Time to go. 

1-12-99 Tu 8:10 AM

In class, no kids here this morning.  I sent Antwon out to the benches because he didn't finish his homework.  ugh.  It's chili dogs today.  Shrill has a cold.  It seems imaginary to me.  Even if it is, I don't want it.  Had no breakfast.  Have to walk to the post office at lunch and hope I can get some f*~!ing one-cent stamps in that time, but I think the rest of the f*cking country will be doing the same Godam thing at the same time, so it may be just a long-line SNAFU.  A faculty meeting after school is going to cut into my writing time.  I have to go to LACAS to pick up my attendance.  A worn spot inside my shoe is giving me a blister on the tender skin on the side of my heel.  I might want to ride my biek up to Larchmont at some point if they have the Pinocchio book I ordered.  The bell just rang.  Got to get my kids and put on the right face for YKW, one that doesn't look too lame.  I'd have to say that little note yesterday was a blow-it.  Whatever.  Who cares?  What else?  I picked up Thing's copy of From Here to Eternity, but it's a 1953 paperback, and if I lug it around until I've read all eight hundred pages, it will fall apart.  So I'll either read Under the Volcano, or I'll pick it up at Chevalier's when I go to check out that Collodi copy of Pinocchio.  I should look that up in the encyclopedia.  Too bad my jacka$$ kids scratched the he!! out of the disc here at school.  ugh  What else?  Am I going to teach the rest of my life?  It's the only thing about me that's not the pursuit of self.  "The Thin Red Line" : "There ain't no other world but this one."  What else? 

I just hit the wall.  That's everything I got.     Yeah, I saw you coming down the street /I could tell by your look that you didn't want to meet /so this time I went away/ but next time/I'm just gonna have to say/could I buy you a dress or something? Could I buy you some jewelry or something?  Would you go out with me or something?  Would you sleep with me or something?  Ya better watch out cuz you can't get rid of me  You better looke out~~~~~What else?  Ten more lines.  Haven't read the newspaper since Saturday.  I heard on the NPR that Jordan was retiring again.  Should I get some beef jerky?  I'd really like one of those ham and cheese croissants.  I'll have to check the carbo count on those things.  I need to get a ladder so I can fix my backboard to the garage better.  Ugh Ack ick ech sh!t F#ck Rats.

11-13-99 Sa 2:20 PM I'm at Farmer's Market.  I rode up here on my bike and met Getoff.  I read the paper and had some lackluster turkey hash and some phenomenally shitty service.  There are pretty girls everywhere and all of 'em make my balls shudder.  It's too early to talk to girls.  I don't feel too hungover this morning except my back hurts.  When I'm done with this i'll read some more Poe and then I'll go type a third-person page.  Still got plenty of Ann obsession, but it's starting to manifest itself in every pretty face I see.  I just took a picture of the two pretty girls sitting by the watermelon stand.  I'm sure it'll come out blurry.  Getoff's reading Forbes magazine.  The counter is yellow.  The ketchup bottles are red.   What else?  We've got to go down to Fullerton tonight for my sister's going-away party.  There was another massive earthquake in Turkey.  Tomorrow, I have a game, and I have to go down to Downey to pick up that mattress and box spring from Florelle and to get that frame from Ikea.  Thing said he'd help me.  Getoff got a beer.  I'm running out of things to say.  I love how lively this place is.  I could go for a puff.  Mac wanted me to try to pick up his TV and bring it down to Orange County for him.  What else?  I've got on a green plaid flannel shirt on and khaki pants and black Dr. Scholl's orthopedic grandpa shoes.  I gotta go poo.  I just told Getoff to go clear the pretty girls table for them, but he's afraid.  I gave the requisite response that he's a fucking pussy.  "If I was done here, I'd do it," I said.  They left.  The pretty girls left.  Faded into the myriad people.  I hate myself.  Oh, the rue.  They felt it, too.  I think I'll take my Poe book to the Farmer's Market commode if I ever get to the bottom of this page.  I don't really want to go to Fullerton because I don't fancy hooking up with any girls who are more than a twenty-minute car ride away.  Hahahahahahaha.

Maybe She Knows Some of That Kama Sutra Stuff

11-10-99 W 3:13 PM
Tomorrow is Veteran's Day.  I don't have to work for 36 hours.  My mind is busy plotting alcoholic binges and sexual liaisons.  Can't decide whether to call Sarika.  Maybe she knows some of that Kama Sutra stuff.  I talked to Anne last night.  She was nice to me.  She's going to Tennessee.  She's going to see an old friend.  She wants to go to Graceland.  My spirits were lifted.  I'm very clearly in love.  I believe it may work.  I glimpsed a future with us together.  But she's in Tennessee, and there's this Kama Sutra question.  Carlos is coming over.  Tim, too.  People are worried about me, but I feel fine.  I love Anne.  Yipes!  Florelle said she'd come pick me up to go to a bar in Burbank, but there's this whole Kama Sutra thing to sort out.  I have some vodka and water.  IKEA didn't give me a slip cover that was supposed to come with the new sofa I bought.  I'll have to go Sunday to get it.  Florelle will give me a bed if I want it.  Maybe I'll buy a bed frame at IKEA and take the mattress and box spring she's offering.  I put the table and chairs together. Slept at Getof'f''s last night.  Went to school today.  Read the paper.  Maybe I'll have a smoke.  Read some Poe.  I left Mariachi a message.  I should call Getoff.  I ate one of my stepmother's roast beef sandwiches.  That's all I've eaten today.  The inside of my house is knee-high in cardboard from all the furniture I bought.  My balls were hurting really bad last night.  I wondered if Shirelle and Demona had teamed up to perform some witchcraft curse on my nuts.  My testicles were so sore.  Could it have been from riding my bike in boxers and tight jeans?  I do that all the time, though.  I'll have a wee smoke after this.  I wonder what the next Poe story is.  I'm not that impressed.  I suppose it's remarkable for its innovation. Who told tales of the supernatural before Poe?  Who wrote mysteries?  The Beowulf Scop?  Irving?  Who cares?  Homer?  I bought screens for the windows, but I can't figure out how to mount them.  I need screws to put up the curtains in the bedroom.  I don't feel bad at all.  Maybe I should call Idaho.  Getoff is going to Acapulco.  He might come to Redondo.

11-8-99 M 4:05 PM
I'm at the Bounty.  I've got fifteen hundred dollars in my pocket.  I rode my bike to Wilshire and Vermont and took the red line downtown.  Fifteen hundred is all those assholes would give me for that stupid ring they charged me thirty-four hundred for.  When they sell it to you, they tell you how nice the stone is, when you try to sell it back, they tell you how shitty it is. Goes without saying. My little Russian beauty, Anna, has been sitting with me for about an hour now.  There's some definite chemistry, but I could never be serious with her, and she's too sweet to just toy with.  I have to pick up my film. Should I take a bereavement day from work  [Joe V. Kinnard, Sr., Boise, Idaho in the man's own writing]  tonight?  I was hoping Thing would be home so we could go up to Ikea with his pickup to buy furniture. I typed fifteen minutes this morning.  I haven't eaten yet today except some cold broccoli.  I'm not going to work tomorrow either.  Well, now what?  I guess I'll go home and eat some celery with peanut butter and read some more Poe.   I'm getting a little sick of his histrionics.  Do my third-person page.  I read the second Epistle of Timothy last night.  What else?  I guess I owe a page in my next journal.