12-26-99 Su 5:00 PM

Rochelle and I are at the veranda bar at the Hotel Figueroa downtown.  We went to Staples Center to try to get hockey tickets for the family, but there weren’t enough seats left for us to get eight in a row.  So, we just went to the Fox sports bar at the arena and got a beer each.  We are looking out the bar here at the Fig at a lattice-covered patio and pool.  The lattice is iron and woven through with bougainvillea.  It’s dusk, and we look directly into the twilight horizon from where we sit.  Rochelle is studying Fodor’s book on New Orleans in advance of our expedition.  Maybe we can camp a night at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.  Maybe we can spend a night in San Antonio.  Maybe we can fish Corpus Christie. 

I read the Second Epistle of Peter today.  More about how screwed you will be if you have heard the word of the Lord and choose to ignore it. 

We might try to go up to Pershing Square from here and watch the ice skaters before we go home.  We’re trying to decide whether or not to go to Orange County tonight.  We might rent a movie or go to one. 

Everything in here is iron and wood. Rochelle reads my volume of Poe by the light of an iron lantern on the wooden table.  I have only about twenty pages more of that ‘til I’m done.  How will I get Jim to the gas station?  I have a short, fast paragraph that does it, but it would be such a sudden departure from the minute psychological detailing of everything else in it so far. 

I ate leftover pasta and salad today that Rochelle had made.

I just read “The Raven” to Rochelle.

What else?  Uncle Terry is coming from northern California tonight.  I wonder what happened to Tim and Sarai last night?  I should give Getoff and Stevo a call.  Maybe I’ll try to take the Woodlocks to Rosarito tomorrow or the next day.  I guess that’s it for now.  I’ll write here again tomorrow.

12-25-99 Sa 9:13 AM
It's Christmas morning.  I'm in Orange at Rochelle's.  It has been a strange week.  An apocalyptic wind has been howling around the house for days, an ancient, terrible wind.  A plague has been unleashed upon the populace.  Fever, vomiting, phlegm, diarrhea, and pain run rampant.  I was pissing flaming daggers out my asshole for three days.  The traffic has been unfathomable, the malls overrun.  I smoked last night, and in bed, I felt the air closing around me, thick with cat hair.  My mom's party on Tuesday night was cancelled.  Rochelle and I went to The Block to meet with Stevo, Peter Lee, the Gip, and Rawler.  My aunt and her family came with us.  Mac and Mardis were going to meet us, but it was dead.  No one was there.  We had a beer at Alcatraz and left.  On Wednesday, John was too sick to golf, so we called it off.  I lay on the couch, illin' all day, though Uncle Chuck and I tackled the Brea Mall at rush hour and came away mostly unscathed.  Rochelle and I went to see the new James Bond movie, "The World is Not Enough."  It was fun.  Slept at Rochelle's.  Went to Mom's the next morning.  Chuck, Mardis, McGee, and I went up Coco's for breakfast.  I had Denver potato pancakes.  Chuck told us how McGee was making out with a boy at the movies while he and Aunt L were there, and Aunt L tapped Mags on the shoulder and said, "Hey, how about coming up for air?"  I drove L and the girls to LA after that.  McGee wanted to see UCLA.  After that we went to the Santa Monica pier and had nachos and margaritas,  We were stuck in the mother of all traffic jams on the way home.  We were an hour late for our dinner reservations at Maggiano's, in the parking lot of the busiest mall in the world.  John, Kane, and Kristin were there.  Bernice had an earache so bad, my mom had to take her to the hospital in the middle of dinner.  Rochelle and I smoked a j on the way back and went to O'Hara's dive in Orange.Circle.  Everyone there seemed very happy for us.  The bartender called us over to thank us as we were leaving.

"Prudence is a rich ugly old maid, courted by incapacity." - Blake.  Proverbs of Hell #4
12-21-99  Tu 4:30 PM
Like a genius, I wait for rush hour to leave for Orange County.  I can already hear sirens.  I have to wrap some presents - mostly clothes that won't fit right - and get them sent to Idaho.  I have to pack for how many days?  I'm supposed to golf tomorrow.  Tomorrow night is open.  Thursday.  Friday is Christmas Eve.  I can come home Sunday.  Tomorrow, Thurs., Fri., Sat., Sun..   I have to pack for five days?  Maybe I'll come home at some point.  At least I'm dressed for tonight.  I bought a rug for the parlor today.  I'm running late.  So much for seeing "The World is Not Enough."  I should put some books in the entertainment center.  I ate at Roscoe's this morning.  I probably shouldn't have a whiskey right now.  My brains are already scrambled.

12-20-99 M 8:17 PM
I'm at my mom's at the kitchen table.  I went golfing with my stepfather and uncle-in-law.  I sucked.  I sucked at my baseball game yesterday, too.  I can't remember when was the last time I wrote.  Saturday morning, Rochelle and I went to Highland Grounds.  Saturday night we went to a friend of our moms' Christmas party.  Gordon kept taking me aside to say how amazing it was that Rochelle and I hooked up.  We had to drive home so I could go to my stupid game on Sunday.  The game was at nine.  We had to forfeit because we didn't have enough players.  We played a practice game.  I made a bunch errors and struck out and was caught stealing. 

12-16-99 Th 11:12 AM

I’ve got a moo shoo craving.  I ate burgers and pizza yesterday.  I should try to wait and eat that chicken when I get home.  Toya gave me a glass mug with my name on it.  I’ve been hearing a lot about my drinking.  I guess I need to get something for her now and for Gloria.  The Christmas cards.  The Honda.  Stamps.  Map.  I have to stop in at LACAS.  Get those certificates, attendance.  Sign in and out for the week.  Fucking Xmas shopping.  Ugh  Ack Ick Urg fuck shit.  It’s sunny and warm today.  The cold spell has finally snapped.  I’m supposed to go out with Jim after work tonight.  Maybe I’ll bring Golden Bird to the potluck tonight.  I’ve got some more Poe-try to read.  No wonder I typed fifteen minutes this morning.  Strummed a bit, rode my bike to school.  Read the newspaper.  What else?  There is nothing else.  It’s all the same shit as yesterday.  Dread of Xmas shopping.  I just paid forty-five dollars for thirty-three dollars’ worth of stamps at the corner mart.  When I get home, I’ll shit out a quick third-person page and walk down to Sav-On.  I’m supposed to go out with the Phantom after class tonight.  Maybe I should get a box of appetite suppressants.  My thumb is bleeding.  It’s the Jim Crack injury.  Where’s my mu shu?  What the fuck else?  Got to get Jim out of McDonald’s.  They walked out the door.  They didn’t speak.  I just devoured my mu shu.  Some kid is crying like a whiny brat in here.  I should get some coffee.  How can I make myself stick to a diet?  I had been doing so well for a month, and I have completely fallen off this week.  How will I get to class with a bucket of Golden Bird?  In my backpack, on my bike?  Twenty-six hours and sixteen minutes from now my days will be free until January 10^th.  Free other than having to go fucking Xmas shopping.  What else?  I have termites in my smile and garlic in my soul [line drawing in black ink of the Grinch in Santa Hat in the top of a chimney]  Maria is going to lend me the Heat Miser video.