1-17-01 W 2:01 PM

Woke up. Got out of bed. Looked back at the baby’s little, white, nearly hairless head peeping out of the covers. Showered. I over screwed the shower curtain rod trying to extend its length so that it wouldn’t fall all the time, and I broke it. So, I hooked the ring on one end of the curtain to the hinge on the bathroom door and the ring on the other end over a corner of the medicine cabinet so we could shower for now without flooding the tile floor.     I put on a necktie this morning so as to establish a modicum of respectability in my job as CBET Coordinator. Had a bowl of raisin bran. Drank a vitamin with milk. Typed fifteen minutes. Fixed a turkey and cheese sandwich with mayo on toast. Rode my bike to school. On my way in from getting the paper, some lady said she always wants to ask me for my autograph because I look like a movie star, she says. She says her son is in film production. I told her I was flattered and kept walking. We did phonics. Read “Sleeping and Dreaming.” Smolinksi got a hat trick. Dave Winfield and Kirby Puckett were elected to the Hall of Fame. Don Mattingly and Steve Garvey were passed over. Kirk Gibson was dropped altogether. I had forgotten my sandwich at home. I called Rochelle. She said she would bring it up and bring the baby for a visit. I told Phylicia I would need a day off for the funeral tomorrow. We studied place value to the thousands and shapes. The crossword puzzle had a clue, which was “commitment symbol,” and the answer was “ring.” I’ve lost mine during a storm of adulterous fantasy. Ugh. Whatever. I read an Eric Carle story to the class about a hermit crab. I still have to call DWP. I’m home now. After school, I went over to Hoover and whatever. Whatever. It hardly seems important. Huhm. So. I’m here on the couch. Rochelle is sitting next to me doing a crossword puzzle. The baby is swinging now. She was bouncing in the bouncy chair. Now she’s swinging in the swing. I had four chicken wings and three corn tortillas and some corn and cottage cheese for dinner. I’ll read some Crossing when I’m done with this. The Kings beat Toronto. Pittsburgh and Phoenix are tied in the second. I wanted to draw a picture. I have the funeral to go to tomorrow. Third-person page to do. Jim is still under the bridge. Should he dream? Should I smoke? Rochelle poured me a goblet of wine. Should I email Anna?

  1-16-01 Tu 12:32 PM

I wrote fifteen minutes in the alternate notebook. Because I didn't work on Jim last night, I had to this morning, and that set back my fifteen minutes until I got to school.  I started reading Cormac McCarthy's follow-up to All the Pretty Horses. The Crossing is the middle book in the Border Trilogy. All my ideas have been done. I have about four or five lines to write to take Him to page one hundred forty-one. It was a slow news day, so I go through the paper pretty fast. A motorcycle cop was here to do a traffic safety lesson with my class. Introduced himself as Padraig Bailey. When I told him my name, he asked if I am related to the cop he worked with at Wilshire thirty years ago with the same name.

I start that new job today. I've got to be to LACAS by three fifteen. Naturally, we have grade-level meetings here at Wilshire Hill after school. I'm going to have to leave early.  I work until five forty-five. I won't be able to do my third-person page until then. I guess I'll need to bring the car. I need to bring the car. I have to study the "Ancient Mariner" for the things to do with Jim in the flood.  "The Wild Bunch" is on AMC tonight. I tape it if the stupid freaking cable doesn't go out. I still need to call DWP and find out what's up with that two hundred twenty-dollar water bill. I read about adultery in the Bible. Queria que Chingar la Senorita Martinez hoy. Coje me mismo en el bano manana. I guess we're supposed to resist our natures. Ugh. Tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday, Rochelle's taking the baby to O.C. I'd like to bring them to LACMA on Friday. Maybe fish Santa Ana River Lakes Saturday before dinner at my mom's with the Phelan's, but I'm sure that'll end up being impractical if not impossible. I miss my Sunday baseball league. It's nearly story time. I told Maricruz I'd read Amelia Bedilia to the class. Then we have to study the Cheyenne medicine dance. Maybe we'll play some dodgeball at PE. Ugh ack ick fuck shit yuck. I have really screwed myself. 

 1-14-01 Su 6:55 pm

    I rode my bike to Wilshire and Santa Monica, about five miles, I guess. Then I waited for the Rapid Bus. I locked my bike to the rake on front. Didn't have exact change so the driver let me on for the eighty-five cents in my pocket. I rode it a couple miles through the hills of Beverly in Westwood and got off on Bundy. I'm at Q's now and have played a game of trivia in which I would have come in third even if I had not spotted everybody the first question. I'll win the next game. The Raiders choked. There is one squirmy little belly button wandering around here like she'd rather be giving lap dances. I wouldn't talk to her even if I wasn't married. I got a glass of water and a Turkey rocks. I typed fifteen minutes during the first half of the Raider game. "Are you a writer?" the guy next to me asks. "Amateur," I say at the same time he asks, "Professional?" I say, "Someday, maybe someday." I went back to writing. "I'm out," he said and patted me on the shoulder. Nice chap. Lough, he said his name was, spelled it, and said it meant "lake" in Irish. The baby has been an angel today. Her mom takes good care of her. I told her I'd call, and if it wasn't too crazy, maybe she could bring the baby. A loud, driving bass beat pounds the whole bar, even though there aren't many people in here. College crowd. I might be the old person in the joint. Eichmann should have been imprisoned in Germany, not executed in Israel. There was a question about that in the game. I made some chicken wings in the over with all kinds of sauces, honey, hickory, Pickapepa, teriyaki, tabasco, Cholula, that Chinese rooster shit, Lawry's, rosemary, ground black pepper, and cumin. Mmmmmm. We had no bleu cheese nor ranch, so I tried dipping the wings in sour cream. It was a poor substitute. I put most of it back in the container, after I pulled a hair out. :) The palm fronds across the street strive toward teh beach. Does that make it an east wind or a west wind? Or is it north/south around here? I believe it's named for the direction from which it comes, not toward which it blows.

 

1-12-01 F 11:24 AM

What’s on tap for today? I wrote fifteen minutes in the alternate journal. Read in the New Times about the new owner of the Silent Movie Theater and the internet publishing house Xlibris. The kids have gone to lunch. I’m nuking some microwave meal. We have to go to the auditorium after lunch to see the Martin Luther King program. I haven’t seen the LA Times yet today. I still don’t know who won the UCLA/USC basketball game. Lean Cuisine. I'm hungry. I’ll have to leave ina bout fifteen minutes so I’ll have time to get a paper before I have to retrieve the third graders. I could go for a drink. Wish I could go out drinking tonight. Have some fun. Tomorrow, Rochelle’s dad, the fuck, comes to spend the night. She says he sexually molested her and her sister when they were growing up. I haven’t asked her to elaborate. I’m not looking forward to having him in m house. I’d like to get out of the house, but I think I should stay around. I’ve got a nice T-bone to broil when I get home. Its an eight-dollar steak I got for three dollars. I wonder what’s the catch? Must be about to spoil. I’ve got a potato I can bake and some veggies, too. I’m being a bad teacher today, and I’ve only been so-so at best this week. You’d think I might be re-energized after a three-week vacation. We’re watching “Tarzan” today. Let’s see. What else? I better not bring my newspaper to the Martin King thing. I’d like to shoot some pool tonight.

So now we’re in the auditorium. The buzz of children goofing around is punctuated by the sound of grow-up hushes and hard heels on the wood floor. The fifth graders are seated on the stage steps. If the program holds to form, they’ll sing us a gospel hymn befitting an ordained Baptist minister. A bluesy recording of “We Shall Overcome” plays through the speakers. Many of my old students are among those who will be performing. I see Coleco will be Master of Ceremonies. Senorita Villa mouthed something to me. It looked like she asked me if I want to take a bath. I went to stand by here and still couldn’t figure out what she was trying to say. I wonder if that book I gave her has helped her. I wonder if it has helped her so much that she would like to do some long-term romping.

15 min 1-12-01 F 10:26 AM

It’s raining. I’m at school. I didn’t “borrow” that book from LACAS that might help me edit. When I got home last night, Rochelle had on sitcoms. I didn’t write. Went to bed about ten thirty. Woke up at six fifty. Showered. Rochelle came back to bed after spending the night with the baby on the sofa. I do not think that is healthy for us. I put on Gap denim pants and an Old Navy pullover. Poured a pineapple-orange-banana juice into a couple fingers of whiskey. Thought I’d call it a Sunburned Mick. Drank my vitamin with that. I sat on the couch awhile. The computer was on, but I hadn’t the time nor the inclination to write anything. I pinched some herb into the bowl on the bong and had a wee smoke. I put on the hooded jacket my night school students gave me. I printed a page of fourth person to use here at school to write a few lines for Jim, but I forgot to bring it. I loaded the complete works of Shaekspeare and the Norton English Literature Volume 2 into my backpack so I can research Lear’s storm some more and also added the Ancient Mariner’s thirst. I also grabbed my guitar and drove to school after I kissed the wife and baby.

 

1-11-01 1:48 PM Th

It never did rain today. I walked up to the Royal Crown Market and got today’s Times. A dolphin leaped from the front page. California Senator Boxer will oppose former Missouri Senator Ashcroft’s appointment to Attorney General. The press proclaims a Shaq/Kobe Laker rift. I think the Kings should offer Blake for Belfour. Whatever.  The music teacher came and did a “Peter and the Wolf” lesson with my class. Isn’t that Tchaikovsky? I’ve seen it at the Bowl. I was going to walk up to the GM dealer to pick up the Olds, but Florelle and Sofia spotted me, and I caved in immediately and accompanied them to fuck myself up good with a couple of bacon cheeseburgers. Ugh. I’ll have to walk for the car after school now. I wonder if Rochelle is still going to Irvine. I took the book, The Crossing, off the shelf. I’ll read a little after this. Then I’ve got to crank out a third-person page. Maybe read the alternative version of Leaves of Grass. Go to night school. Like to chingar Magdalena y Berta. Could be my last night teaching ESL, since I start that new job on Monday. Have to work on Jim tonight. More on the storm and the dream. Then the tow yard meltdown, stealing his own car, busted, bust the window, and hook it all up. Maybe we can watch “The Meaning of Life” tonight. “Nosferatu” is playing at the silent movie theater. I’d like to check it out on the big screen this weekend. No school Monday, thank you, Dr. King. Could go for a smoke. A drink. A shit. I’d like to go golfing, fishing. There’s a Stevie Wonder album I want. I want to replace my Guns N Roses’ Appetite for Destruction CD. We’re broke. What else? The old rallying cry. Hadn’t I banished it? It’s a good question, but I overuse it. I have to change the bulletin boards. We played a little basketball. I broke a little sweat, but not nearly enough to atone for the carnage I inflicted on my body at lunch. Some day I want to cover the Paris to Dakar Road Rally. Someday. Someday. Someday. When I’m worth what I’m worth. Or is this all I’m worth?

 

1-10-01 W 12:55 PM

It’s cold. A storm is expected to bring gale force winds and six inches of rain tonight. I wonder if it’s the storm I created? I typed fifteen minutes this morning. I took the car up to the GM dealer. I got in and out pretty fast and was able to walk to school before the bell rang. I picked up a newspaper. Hypocrisy ricochets around Washington. Phonics, spelling, “Sleeping and Dreaming,” recess, place value to thousands, Taco Bell. Rochelle’s sister is visiting tonight. Goody gum drops. Hopefully, she won’t come until I’ve done my third-person page and will be gone before I have to work on Jim. I’ll have to call LACAS to see if Ms. Aioli has got someone to take over my classes. It’s dark outside, as if we were in the umbra of an eclipse (Is that the right word?) We’ve still got the Cheyenne to study. I guess I’ll read some Dean’s December. I want all these things, like a laptop, airfare, movies, CDs. I want airfare to Salt Lake City so I can rent a car and drive through Jackson Hole, Grand Teton, and Yellowstone up to my dad’s in Idaho and fly back from Spokane. I saw round-trip airfare to Amsterdam for four hundred dollars. I want to get out to Chicago to see the White Sox this summer and then Back East for the reunion at my cousin Tom’s place in Jersey. I want to see the movies “All the Pretty Horses,” “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,” “Chocolat,” “Before Night Falls,” “Best in Show,” “Requiem for a Dream,” “Traffic,” “You Can Count on Me,” “Cast Away,” “Malena,” “Finding Forrester,” “O Brother, Where Art Thou,” and maybe even “Sunshine,” “State and Main,” “Miss Congeniality,” “Quills,” “Shadow of the Vampire,” and “Pollack." Whew. Eighteen movies? That’s astonishing. I’ve never wanted to see so many movies. Meanwhile, there’s an Apple Power Book G3/5000 with 500 MHZ, 128 MB 5DRAM, 20 GB hard drive, DVD-ROM, 56K fax/modem, 8MB VRAM, and 2 Firewire USB ports for $2199. And I want to get online and order “Mad Monster Party” from E-Bay. And what else? Get “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.” I’m demented with the mania of wanting things. I could go for a drink and a smoke. I don’t know. I just need to fill this line and I’m done.

 A high school student on Frederick Douglass writes: “Douglass was born young and he doesn’t do much hard work.”

 1-9-01 Tu 1:45 PM

We're out on the yard, playing kickball. "Brisk" describes everything. A few copper leaves cling to skeletal limbs in the chill gasp of the leading edge of a cold front. A stormy forecast calls for heavy rain and gusting wind. I typed fifteen minutes this morning. Skipped breakfast, skipped bathing, skipped brushing my teeth even. Walked to school. The telephone poles looked like crucifixes along Apian Way. I walked down Twelfth to La Brea and bought a newspaper in front of Taco Bell. At school, I signed in and waited in the line-up area, reading my mail. The DI program is looking for instructors. Big dill. It can't be better pay than adult ed. I looked over the paper. Apperently, there's no solution to the rising cost of electricity, and if that weren't apocalyptic enough, the Clippers beat the Lakers. The Dodgers lost Johnny Damon to the A's while Malone was on vacation.

Once class started, we checked our phonics, did a lesson on context clues, and one on expository paragraphs. After recess, we did lessons on "Exploring Thousands." I had a Healthy Start microwave meal of turkey medallions, mashed potatoes, and gravy. It only made me hungry. After lunch, we continued our study of the Cheyenne. I'm thinking of reading Dean's December by Saul Bellow, his first novel after winning the Nobel. I'm not sure I want to get into it, though, because I'm hoping to see the "All the Pretty Horses" movie on Friday, and then I'd like to read book two of that trilogy. Anyway, if I read anymore Bellow any time soon, I should read Humboldt's Gift. I'll ride my bike home. Hopefully, I can knock off a third-person page before we tak the baby to her doctor's appointment. Maybe I can schedule an appointment for removal of this wart while we're there--if our pediatrician is in the same building as our GP. I have to let Claudette Ajeti know about the CBET job. Hope to break onto page one hundred and forty of Jim tonight. We'll watch the rest of "Lady and the Tramp" for lunch. I gotta call DWP.  Mail out the bill payments. I'm totally broke. Christmas cost seventeen hundred bucks. Rochelle's going to return some of the stuff she got me.

 1-8-01 M 2:32 PM

School just let out. It’s raining today. I didn’t have time to go to the post office because lunch is shortened on our rainy-day schedule. Ada has to go to the pediatrician for a new round of injections this afternoon. We can stop and grab stamps while we are out. Looks like I’ll have to leave my bike hereat school since I can’t really ride down Olympic and hold my umbrella at the same time. I saw people ride their bikes under their umbrellas in some little Costa Rican towns, but the traffic is different down there.

I typed fifteen minutes this morning. We did journals. I read the newspaper. Nothing to it. We did a rounding game. Began our lesson on the Cheyenne. We watched “The Jungle Book” since we couldn’t go outside. I hear the buses rumble away as if they are powering up for lift off. Have to crank out a third-person page when I get home. Got to get Jim through the night. Should he dream? Should he ponder hailstones? I haven’t had any lunch. I was going to bring some sandwiches to school, but the bread I bought a week ago is already moldy. I’ve got a Lardner story to read before I head home. Maybe I’ll have a smoke as I walk under my umbrella. Back to night school tonight. ESL 1A, Day One: The Alphabet. Ugh. I can’t take it anymore. I keep seeing ads in the newspaper to teach English in Japan or Korea. I need to look at our collective bargaining agreement to see if I can get a leave of absence. Get a book about Japan. I should look in that Spain book to see if anyone wants English teachers over there. The water dropping from the eaves sounds like popcorn popping. It hits the puddles on the pavement with the crinkly sound of Jiffy Pop foil expanding.

Whatever. It’ll be more of the same tomorrow. At least there’s no staph meeting. I need to tell Senorita Villa to let me know if she decides to leave that job at LACAS. What’ll I eat when I get home? There are steaks in the freezer. I can have that tomorrow, though, since Rochelle is going to her sister’s tomorrow and doesn’t like red meat. I better scurry along so that we’re not late to the doctor.