5-9-01 W 12:35 PM

I typed fifteen minutes this morning before riding my bike to school. The kids had Stanford Nine tests to do, so I read the news. Bush will fuck the whole world over to make his pals in the oil, gas, and coal industries even richer. The Kings have to beat the Avs. I ate a Taco Bell burrito at recess. Just one. Maybe that can be all I eat today. We were on lockdown for forty-five minutes or so while the police helicopter scoured the area for fugitives. I've got to play a real sweaty game of basketball today. Got to call LACAS and Holly. The Devils dule to the death with the Leafs is this afternoon. I'll bring books to Hoover tomorrow. I'll get a haircut tomorrow. I have to call Sheryl Powers. Third person page. I need to quit deferring the decision on the keys. I'll do a practice page today with some general mayhem, rather than detailed, prolonged mayhem. I've got Rimbaud to read. I've got to put Barleycorn back on the shelf. 

Augh. What else? It feels like there's an ice pick lodged in the back of my neck. I have no muscular control today. What else? I cut out a picture from the paper of the multi-hued hills around Gorman where the poppies and their friends are abloom in spring splendor. I feel arthritic. A drink would do wonders. A puff: marvels. I need some double A batteries for the remote control for the TV here at school. I need some coffee or something. Or a nap. It's time to go play some basketball. My horoscope said to stick to my diet and exercise plans. [color photo] Here is a park in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. My father told me that the people in the community came out, pitched in, and built it themselves in a day. I believe his point was that back in LA, some city workers would have spent nine months doing it.