Gay Sailors and Bitches Absconding with the Toilet Brush

 8-5-00 Sa 10:10 AM 

Got some seriously negative feelings today. Whatever. My writing is clogged. Fuck. I went to the batting cages with Gallos and Elmer yesterday. Then we went to Brennan's and shot some pool. When I came home, I made Rochelle dinner, fried catfish with tater tots and vegetables. Then I cleaned the kitchen. I'm the bitch in this relationship. I'm the bitch and she's the slob. God, am I stupid. It's funny how a life can become thoroughly fucked up because of a single instance of bad judgement. I don't remember if I wrote yesterday. I didn't go to the Bounty on Thursday. I taught my class. The coordinator of the program came in while I was looking at the newspaper and the kids were in groups. It didn't look good. She gave me a little constructive criticism, let's say. I got the students seated and began [color phote, wooded, alpine, Olympic valley, snow-topped peaks in background] a lesson. She said I was a good teacher before she left. I rode my bike home after class and read the rest of the paper. I made a run with orange, strawberry, and banana juice. I thought it should be called a Gay Sailor. View from Mt. Angeles, WA, looking south, June 1995. We watched "High Noon" this morning. You try to respect it even though it has become hackneyed and self-righteous. When I'm done here, I'll make some breakfast. Then I'll get a paper. I have to do down to Orange with Rochelle to take the pup to meet the cats to see if they'll get along so we can leave her there while we're in Costa Rica. She just now tried to abscond with the toilet brush to the backyard. Tonight is Florelle's party. We should get her a gift. I still have thankyous to send and ought to buy birthday cards for my sisters. Our game is at 12:30 tomorrow. I need to get a new journal.