7-20-00 Th 12:51 PM

I’m at Shakey’s pizza joint on Olympic and Fairfax, stuffed to the gills, a pile of chicken bones, pizza crusts, potato skins, orange rinds, and a few stray strands of spaghetti decomposes on the plate in front of me. I’m going to try and get the rest my beer in me when my lunch buffet has settled some. I got out of bed around seven thirty or so this morning. I went into the study and wrote seven more lines for Jim. I heard Rochelle praising the dog for shitting outside before she went to work, but that didn’t prevent me from stepping into a pile of puppy poop in my stocking feet. I took off the socks and used them to remove the turds to the trash and threw them out together. Then I douched the carpet with vinegar and water. I put on shoes and fresh socks and a t-shirt and shorts and walked to the corner for the papers. Yassar and Ehud are going to stay at Camp David a few more days. I say just let the Palestinians build s little state building in East Jerusalem. Whatever. The Angels got robbed by another incompetent umpire. Hansen homered in the Dodgers win. I read the paper in the shade of the orchard in the backyard while the dog chewed on everything she could get her teeth on. I called Berto. He’s going to bring me that “shirt” I ordered. He was at work. Then I cycled up to Wilshire Hill. Ralph said, let’s golf the three-par at Rancho Park.  He’s going to come by the house around two. I asked Ms. Harvard what she thought I should do about the Beich incident. She recommended I discuss it with Principal Steele. Then she offered me a summer school job which I accepted. It’ll be Monday-Friday, eight to twelve twenty. When I’m done here, I’ve got more Mailer/Miller to read. Mailer was in town with his wife promoting a new book. Third-person page.  Finger man. Work tonight. Call Steele, Keith, Tim. See “X-men” tomorrow. Price camcorders.