5:11 PM 7-7-00 F

6:09 PM I rode my bike to LACMA. Elmer said he’d meet me here, but I don’t see him. While I was riding here, I thought all kids of hateful things I might say to Shirelle if I were to see her here. She lives around here. I locked up my bike and headed up the stairs to the courtyard. I got a Heineken and stood in back of the action, looking for a place to write. An artist I had seen sketching with pastels the last time I was here was sitting at the same table, sketching again. An old man at his table got up and left. I approached. “May I sit here?” He said, “Sure.” Now we’re all up to speed. He scans the crowd, looking for images to draw. I do the same looking for something to write. [quick sketch in pencil of artist’s face wearing square-rimmed glasses] I see a lot of eyes and hair. The guy’s drawings are simple geometric impressions of people. The bassist tonight [quick sketch in pencil of bald but for clown-like curls on the side ala Larry Fine with Dali type mustache just short of handlebars, head and neck of bass] is a bit more avante garde then the soulful guy whose name I forget from last time. [roundhead, wide nose, furrowed brow, sad eyes, slight smile] Maybe I’ll go to Malone’s from here. Or ride the bus to the Beverly Club. I should read some more and then do a third person page. I read some Black Spring this morning, about Miller’s father’s tailoring. I moved Jim to page one hundred and twenty-two. I took the Alero to get the oil changed. I read the paper. Typed fifteen minutes about all the little hassles going to the doctor entailed. I lifted weights and read chapter five of Trouble is My Business. Took a shower. I put on dress slacks. I see lots of fathers with tots strapped to their backs. I’m out of cigarette papers. I don’t think they sold me a full pack. I don’t remember where I got them. I thought of what a nice oreo me and the Williams sisters would make. I’m starting to see nipples with all the eyes and hair. Out of nowhere I think: Vegas is a dead-end for married men. I can smell that oreo. I heated some meat and mashed potatoes and ate it with a salad before coming here. The Braves were beating the Red Sox five to nothing. Every femme in the joint’s got nipple erections. I wonder to whom all other than me their erections are transmitting. Crass. You can tell I’m reading Miller.