12-7-00 Th 4:19 PM

I've drunk two beers since I've been home and smoked a bongload, and now I've got to go to work. The phone is ringing. I let it. The answering machine answers. It's my wife's father.~~~Maybe I"ll not complain about air conditioning anymore.~~~[photgraphic self-portrait of a douche bag with a goatee sitting on a cliff beside a waterfall plunging directly into the sea in Costa Rica]~~~When good habits turn bad. Turn the page. Sometimes you must before being weird. This interchangeability between I and you. I said, "I'm excited to drink." I said it into the phone. What a stupid thing to say. Keep rethinking things. Some Tom Tom Club on the radio. Some Baha Men on the television. How do I change my job? Hang out in the office. Go early. Sober up and go early. Hold on the beer until after work. Wait until Friday after school. There's a scorpion in the sky and a superhero in the clouds. A pedal fell off my bike on the way home from school today. The bolt in the crank shaft bent and the stripped off as I pedaled. It probably got bent going off all those curbs under my weight. A guy out front in a plastic apron, manning a shopping cart full of plastic bags, sorts through the recycling bin. Must be a cornucopia of beer cans and bottles in there. Good luck to him. ~~ I busted a ceramic vase that one of Rochelle's cousins gave to us as a wedding present. Oops. I was sifting through a pile of junk on the Jennyhill chair, and I heard a crash on the other side of the chair, and there was the vase, shattered by the hearth. I stood a while with the pieces in my hands. Eventually, I guessed there was no way to repair it. The trashcans were not on the side of the house. When I walked to the curb to toss them in the can, I stopped. Maybe Rochelle would want to see them.  The I thought, why would she want to be bothered about it? Still, I brought then back in and put them on the kitchen table. Whatever. I need to brush my teeth. Shall I order jerseys? Call Gil? Look at the video GROAN. I would love to not have to work tonight. I can just take some unpaid days. Maybe I'll floss, too. 

 

12-6-00 12:43 PM W

Whatever. I don’t feel like doing this. I’m beginning to wonder if it’s counterproductive to write just for writing’s sake without any reason or feeling. Maybe I should try to limit my output to what feels right and good. That might be about one sentence a week, though. Ugh. I never did do a third-person page yesterday. I tried to nap, but Ada wasn’t going for it. The next thing you know, it was time to go to work again. Ho hum. We studied for the test. After I got home, we watched “The Prince of Egypt.” The animation was exquisite, the story well-told. It forced me to revisit some bitter questions about Exodus at the same time it cleared up other questions. I never understand why good would “choose” one people and forsake another. I guess slavery was the reason the Egyptians were forsaken, and the Hebrews embraced. I’m not sure the Bible ever says that, though. It must be inferred. Whatever. I’m tired, as usual. Sick of my lack of freedom, as usual. Was the Egyptians’ treatment of the Hebrews much different from the Israelis’ treatment of the Palestinians? Whatever. I got to school early to work in the informational picket line for about ten minutes or so. I got a newspaper. Read it between lessons. Kobe beat Iverson. Vargas thinks getting his ass kicked by Trinidad shows that he has heart. Bush smirks. Gore snivels. They argue for whatever puts them in power, and if they situations were reversed, they’d argue the opposite of what they argue now. Ugh. Ack. Ick. I want to drink and smoke and throw caution to the wind.  Whatever. My writing is the opposite of universal. It’s selfish. Phonics. Y as long e. ea as long e. Dictionary definitions. Recess. I ran some copies. Horowicz asked my daughter’s name. I told her. “Oh, like Eva Braun,” she said. “No. With an ‘A,’ like Ava Gardner.” Rude bitch. No wonder they invite extermination. Genocide is evil. Murder is evil. Oppression is evil. Does anyone ask if their behavior invites consequences? Were the Jews blameless? Innocent? I think about this too much. I do not believe in hate. Ugh. But I do hate hypocrisy. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe hypocrisy is unavoidable. It’s a byproduct of society. Whatever. How can I free myself? Ugh and fuck, as usual. I work too much. I don’t feel like part of a community. Where are the thinkers? Where is the dialog? God, I want a drink and some real interchange of ideas. Ugh. Rochelle and the baby are going to her sister’s tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet up with Thing. Whatever. I’ve got to read a story to the kids. Why are my journal entries always so negative and awful?

 

12-5-00 Tu 12:28 PM

It’s warm today. The baby didn’t sleep so well last night. We have grade level meetings after school today. I’ll read Whitman when I’m done here. [writing in Arabic] from a Qur’an copied in large thuluth script, 8^th AH/14^th century

Harvard came in to inspect files yesterday. Whatever. I wrote my lesson plan for the week. I read the news at recess. A jockey was murdered. We did a lesson about African elephants and one about rounding to the nearest ten. Rochelle strolled Ada up to visit me at lunch. The kids came over to see the baby. Harvard yelled at them for running. I don’t think I’d lose any tears if she moved on. Whatever. I read Jack Ezra Keats’ book, Snow, to the kids [photo of the sea bottom at Las Uvas, Puerto Viejo de Talamanca, Limon, Costa Rica] They said they liked it. Then we did a lesson about timelines. We studied one about a Kwakiutl girl’s life. They were supposed to do one of their own lives for homework last night. We shall see. I stayed after school a little to read the paper. When I got home Rochelle asked where I had been. “I went to a bar,” I said. “And the track. I bet on some horses.” “And got hookers?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said. “Hookers.” I needed to work on Jim. Rochelle gave me the baby and took the stupid fucking retard—I mean the dog, for a walk. I fell into a deep sleep with the baby on my chest. When I woke up, it was time to go to work. Like sands through the hourglass, these are the days of our lives. Ugh. We prepped for the final exam. When I got home, I slapped a few lines onto Jim. Ugh. Rochelle went to bed. The baby insisted on being bounced until past midnight. I slept from about one until four.

 

12-2-00 Sa 4:12 PM

I’m at home with the baby while Rochelle has gone to Blockbuster to rent some movies. I just had a smoke, and now I feel a bilious nausea. Maybe it’s the same kind of thing that makes the baby cry. The Big Twelve Championship with #1 Oklahoma against Kansas State is about to start, but I don’t know what channel. If OK wins, they got to the national championship game next month against Florida State. If not, Miami goes. I think I express too many negativisms. Ha! What the hell kind of sentence is that? Whatever. I feel a little depressed. Rochelle [ink line drawing of a sleeping man’s face] just pulled into the driveway. Maybe I’ll have a beer. [scribbled out black ink line drawing of a man’s face] I tried to draw my father’s face. I couldn’t get it right. Rochelle’s making some clam linguini. All of the sudden, lately, I’m having trouble writing Ks. Whatever. Rochelle and I both think Ada looks like my brother, Max. Yikes!

The linguini was good. Rochelle’s wrapping Millie’s gifts now. It’s halftime. The game’s tied 10-10. What else? I’m struggling. I made some coffee and rum. I’m supposed to go over to the GIP’s to watch some boxing. I already typed it in the 15-minute file. I should write in here when I get there. The dog is chewing on a wrapping paper tube. I can’t think of anything else. I have been waiting hours for something to write here. There’s nothing. All I’ll be able to write about is how there’s nothing to write about. The baby is crying. I’ll ride my bike GIP’s when this game is over. It’s a couple miles from here at Wilshire and Wilton. I’m lying on the wood floor. I was looking at old journals. They’re as bad as this one. That’s what happens when you force yourself to write when you don’t have any inspiration or reason. I need to tune my electric guitar. What else? I’ll read some Leaves of Grass.