Su 2-18-01 8:23 PM

On the potty, taking a Red-Bull-induced poopoo in advance of heading over to the Gaylord to try to cheer up Thing whose girl has just split on him. I guess I’ll drive and if I get drunk, I’ll take the bus or a cab and ride my bike to wherever the car is tomorrow, except that I wonder if I can move the stroller into the front seat to put my bike in the trunk. I typed fifteen minutes and read the Sunday Times. Then we drove out to the Graves’ in Hacienda Heights. 9:30 Over at Thing’s. He’s playing Johnny Cash, trying to toughen himself up against the girl-gone blues. I’m having a scotch and water. Out the window, the red neon sign of the Prince glows noirishly down the street. Maybe we’ll go to the Bounty and Brass Monkey or Tiki Tai or Cheetah or maybe we’ll just stay here and finish this bottle of scotch. It’s smoked Laphroaig. Tastes like drinking from an ash tray.

Thing has just presented me with a copy of The Curse of Lono.

We’re reminiscing about the novelization of Escape from New York. And the movie.

We can neutralize the charge with x-rays.

“Okay, so what’s the plan here?”

“First, we’ll go to the Bounty and have a beer. Then we’ll go to the Brass Monkey and have a beer. Then We’ll drive up to Tiki Tai and have a cocktail, and then we’ll got to Cheetah’s, and then we’ll go to jail.”

“Do they have a bar there?”

“Yeah, a whole bunch of ‘em.”