9-21-00 Must Be Koranic Verse

 9-21-00 Th 1:18 PM 

I'm in a very low place. Going over reasons why would be futile. I wish I could just get some shit going with Jim. Writing is not one of my strengths. I ought to just give in to that, but to what, then, do I devote my creative energy? Shitty ass, namby-pamby, pansy-ass, whiney wienie. I haven't had lunch. I need a drink. I need a character. I need a setting. I made peanut butter and jelly on rye for breakfast this morning. Rochelle read some Of Love and Other Demons aloud last night. We're out of wine. She made chicken parmesan for dinner. I guess the county superintendent has restored his career. Rochelle skipped work again last night. I was bugged, but I knew it didn't matter. I didn't write. I just flipped channels. I biked here. Read the paper. It may as well have been blank pages. The kids had music this morning. The new music teacher, Miss Jones, is lame. After recess, we went to the Cabrillo Marine Institute exhibit set up in the auditorium. 

Sons and Daughters

For the daughter that laughs I am hurt

For the son that cries I am grieved

because the two have made me the beehive of the soul  all open and ardent

Because the two have made that tooth with life bite and poison my key More poison between the vein and returned me the incandescent spook Because the two are fountains of hope Because the two they will ask me for morning a crumb of peace that can't be reached  Because I will have to give them the bell of death, of hate and vengeance and nurture their voices with human blood.

Maybe Jim has a scar at his hairline from a tow truck driver's wrench. Maybe he got locked up for stealing his car back. How can I make people care if I don't care? I still need to tune my guitar. Put the crib together. Kiss my ass good-bye. I should give Gil a call. Stone said I look dapper. The Giants clinched. So did the Cards. The playoffs are wide open. I need weed. What else? I guess I can hop on my bike and head home.