9-20-00 W 12:54 PM

I'm having a hard time. Rochelle was bawling last night because I don't seem to really love her. What could I say? I tried to comfort her. The truth is too terrible. For better or worse, that was the agreement. What am I to do? I have no spark. No passion, not just for here but for anything. I wish I had some weed. Maybe I'll get a sub tonight. But I'm going to need a lot more sub days in the near future. I wrote about nine minutes yesterday. All shit. Shit like this. The video of Costa Rica came back. It sucks. That's not just being negative. That's the way it is. I still couldn't make love to her, even after all that.  [ink line drawing of a man holding a gun to his head] My dad and stepmother are here from Idaho. My brother is such a phenomenal loser. I ate Cheerios for breakfast. I had a vitamin with grape juice and a glass of cold coffee. The Angels lost. The US Olympic team beat the Netherlands after the Netherlands had beaten Cuba. The Olympics are a bore. I had solar-heated turkey and stuffing at lunch. The kids read their parent interviews, presented oral book reports, and we did some problem solving. I feel the blade of Rogozhin pressed against my throat. It's my throat that feels vulnerable. Not my temple. Not my wrist. Not my insides. The wife works four to twelve thirty tonight. What else? We saw the movie "High Fidelity" on the plane from San Jose (CR). I have to do a third person when I get home. The whore and the kingpin. [Continental Airlines ticket stub from San Jose, CR, to Houston] Read more De Bravo. Tune my guitar. Work on Jim. Fuck that. I dread Jim the way I dread sex with the wife. I wish I had weed. I forger it just filled me with wrong. Or did it? I going to read a story to the class called Grandfather's Dream. I feel awful. What can I do to change this? I want a smoke. The tow truck? The keys? A tedious waste of time. Your smell makes me grand suddenly like a wall of lime and stone, and it enveloped the face like a sweet blanket, and there was a savage wind that tore the earth. Under this smell, we fall knotted.