2-11-00 F 1:12 PM
I'm in my class at Wilshire Hill.  Maybe this will be my last month here.  LACAS is looking for a "Community-Based English Tutoring" coordinator.  According to Afra, it's a thirty-hour-a-week job at forty bones an hour.  That's more an hour than I make now, and it's twenty hours less than I work now.  I dropped a resume to Nadine Ajeti, the director, and I will interview for the position on Monday.  I'll have to be able to talk about family literacy and curriculum development.  I've got some crap to take home and study this weekend.  So, anywho...Rochelle made some chicken marsala or piccata or something with pasta and broccoli and garlic bread for dinner last night.  We played Scrabble.  Then, we humped.  Out the window, the Cheshire Cat's scythe-like grin lit up the sky between the God of War and his father, Death above them all.  Or maybe it was just the quarter moon between Mars and Jupiter with Saturn above. 
I played some guitar before school this morning, but I didn't write.  Rode my bike to school.  Read the paper.  We did book reports and went to the library.  Had a grade-level meeting.  Ate at Flame Chicken.  Had some falafel and such.  I've got to write that third-person page as soon as I get home because Ralph is coming around four so we can golf.  I've got to write thank-yous to Amy Carman and Tim.  And I don't know what else.  I have to figure out what that perfume is.  Got to work on Jim later.  We have to go car shopping this weekend.  Got a game Sunday.  Don't know what time.  Ken Griffey, Jr. got traded to the Reds.  What else?  A week from today we go to Idaho.   I hope [pencil line drawing of the conductor from School House Rock's "Conjunction Junction] I hope we're not on an MD-80 with a faulty stabilizer jack screw.  I should finish the appendices of F. T. Prince's presentation of books I and II of Paradise Lost.  Then, I'll finish Blake.  Then, I don't know what.  Uh, the uh, the uh, the uh, the uh, the uh, that's all, folks!

2-10-00 Th 12:33 PM
Ugh.  I went to fucking Jack in the Box for lunch.  I hate myself.  I didn't work on Jim last night.  Got a little high before night school.  I didn't get out of bed until forty-five minutes after the alarm went off.  Showered, dressed, coffee, juice, vitamin.  Bike, drizzle, newspaper. Scientists announce discovery of some new type of matter.  Other scientists remain skeptical.  We worked in our spelling books.  Teresita's mom came for a visit.  The kids stayed in and played Chinese checkers at recess because it was wet on the playground. We did our math.  They're doing their silent reading now.  When I'm done with this, I'll read the appendix to Paradise Lost.  I have to work on Jim when I get home. 

This must be how Gordon Sumner felt.

Maybe we'll watch "The Lion King II: Simba's Pride."

[a sketch in black ink resembling something like the bull in Guernica and Disney's Beast]  Ugh. Ah Be Yo Yo

This kind of routine is sucking away my soul.  Or is it that my soul is making my routine suck.  If I had worked on Jim last night, would I feel this bad?
      Music teacher Will Coane is here.  He's going to show a jazz documentary.
 It's pouring down rain now. 
Mr. Coane has gone.  Ms. Chappa is here with her class.  They're going to stay and watch "The Lion King." 
Joe, a good guy, just congratulated me on my marriage. 

W 2-9-00 11:28 AM
Class.  The kids are doing well today.  The martial law I had to impose is beginning to take effect.  Fascism works best in third grade.  I typed for fifteen minutes this morning.  I ate a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I played my guitar for a few minutes.  A-C, A-C, A-C, ADC, ADC, AC, AC, AC, ADC, ADC.  Rode my bike to school.  Looks like "Millionaire" won't be calling again.  Miss Sheinstern gave me a newspaper.  Bush won Delaware, but McCain got a quarter of the votes without even trying.  The Ducks beat the Kings.  I have to Xerox some shit for Stone.  I'll read some more P.L. notes.  Should I go to Taco Hell or skip lunch?  I've been driving to Pio Pico.  No exercise.  What else do I have to do?  How do I make sure that we get paid for Saturday?   11:55 I'm at Taco Hell getting my trans-fatty acid fix that I swore I wouldn't get. So, I'll skip dinner.  If my wife lets me.  You know she'll tempt me.  That's what they do; God bless 'em.  It's mostly cloudy today.  Traffic rumbles up La Brea.  What's taking so long with my chalupas?  I want to talk to Horowicz about buying stock in Sysco. 
Those chalupas just made me hungry.  Is it better to serve in Heaven or rule in Hell?  Well, you clearly don't want to serve in Hell.  My copy of Paradise Lost Books I and II is stained with coffee.  I got my haircut Monday at the Oaxacan barbershop.  I trimmed my beard and mustache yesterday.  What else?  Elmer just showed up at Taco Hell.  He's vexed by a cryptic note on his windshield.  There's an old lady at the table next to us.  Elmer keeps saying "Fuck."  I say, "Man, quit cussin' in front of this old lady."  "Fuck," he says, "I need to fucking finish fucking school.  I need to quit this fucked up job.  Fuck."     Five more minutes and lunch is over.  I'll have to do a third-person page when I get home.  Knock off another chapter of this Ueland.  The Diabetic Recipes book and the Mysteries of the Bible book that I ordered have arrived.  Some new books I want are Swede Olas Magnus' History of the Northern Nations and Paradise Regained.  After I finish Milton, I'll finish Blake.