2-6-01 5:33 PM M

Ugh. Ack. Irk. Yikes. “Shane” is dueling “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” on two different channels at the same time. I was too busy watching a porno to get a tape going by the time they had started. I’ve got to “Shane” on so far. I think I prefer Bogy. That kid in “Shane” gives me the creeps. Besides, Alan Ladd took himself out of the game, didn’t he? I can’t respect that. Bogy went the old-fashioned way: Drank and smoked himself to death. A guy limped by the window wearing a cowboy hat. Strange crossover. You gotta love LA. I had a wee smoke. Should I ask LACAS for a business card? That smoke made me weird. Now I feel like I need a drink. Shouldn’t I not get up until these three pages have been completed? What about for water? Mr. Zurn, can I get a glass of water? Zattan stopped by. Got a sore on my lip. Rochelle and the baby have gone to Orange County to visit mom and stister. Stister?—Sister, that is. Water. I’m hearing on the radio about problems on the 91 and a load of spilled steal pipes or something on the northbounch 57 at Tonner Canyon. That Bogy character’s freakin’ paranoid. The way they’ve got to go. I got up to put the shades down. It’s getting chilly in her, and it’s dark out now. I wonder how Gladys Aguila is doing. She was the best TA I ever had. She’d com into class and just start working with groups of kids. I never had to ask her to do anything. I’ve got to assign a group to work with Mrs. Valenzuela. I took pack of steaks out of the freezer. Boyd has been shot. Shane looks like it’s in Wyoming. Mariachi called to see if I could come out to the 35er in Pasadena to celebrate Esteban’s birthday. I explained about Christmas debts and said I couldn’t go, and he said, “Well, just say you’re going out with they boys, and I’ll pay for you.” I said, “I don’t know. These things are touchy.” Then I asked, “When is it?” and he said, “Saturday.” I said I’d call him back. Now Shane looks like it’s in a soundstage, pretending to be outside. I put it back to “Sierra Madre.” I will read another page of the How to Play Guitar book when I’m done here. Write a third-person page. Fart around on the internet, maybe send Villasenorita a birthday e-mail.

1228 AM 2-6-01 Tu

Ugh. Let see. I reached page 143 today. Put it on the kitchen calendar. I ought to get at tleast to 150 before the end of the month. Had to bring the car to school today. My bike got another flat. I popped the innertube when I came awkwardly onto the driveway trying to go around the car; the tire hit the curb at an odd angle. I should have taken it to Imartin last night, but I was suffering from motivational defeciencies. Went to go to Best Buy to price laptops, but Best Buy, it turns out, doesn’t carry Macs. I started for Burbank before I realized I don’t know where Fry’s is, so I went home. There’s a staff meeting after school today. Fuck. Urg Ick Aug. I’ve got stop this virulent thought process. Whatever. Got a newspaper from a sidewalk stand on La Brea. Got a lesson plan together for the week. Did the first of the week language ritual with our journals. Read the paper at recess.  Nothing to it. Worked with coins. Finished the paper at lunch. A Principal’s Day luncheon was held in the auditorium. The Big Ass-Kiss.  Who organizes this shit? I guess I am a real wacko. I don’t see how anyone could like me.