#57 6-24-01 Su 10:52 AM

Snot drops on the [psychedelic, kaleidoscopic image reminiscent of some cosmic eye staring daggers down upon a serpent in ink] page.

  That’s how it is. The leaves jingle outside. Blakes at MOMA, and his watercolors, too. I saw it on CBS. Read about the crucifixion at Golgotha. I’ve stuffed toilet paper in my nostrils so no more snot drips on the page. I have nothing to write that complements the magnificence of the stained-glass window I tried to reproduce. In fact, I can’t wait to be done writing this shit so I can read the newspaper. I should really go somewhere to write this, but it’s not worth the wife’s feelings of abandonment should I leave, though I suppose this too is a form of abandonment. I suppose my stained-glass window will become smeared before I have filled this journal. I ate a bagel this morning, but I’m still hungry. Another explosion just rattled the neighborhood. I guess it’s just some kids doing a pre-Fourth of July fuckaround, but these have not been firecrackers popping. Somebody’s experimenting with weapons of mass destruction. ~~~ I’ve got to call Getoff, Ball, and Thing. I have so many books to read. I want to go to Mount Lassen. I have to call Mt. SAC tomorrow. What can I eat right now? I took a Zyrtec this morning. Rochelle is feeding the baby. “Hi, poopoo bear good girl. I know. I know. I know. Say, ‘I love vegetables and chicken, coocoocachoo. I’m the champ! I’m the champ! Three more bites!’ Like that. Tomorrow, I have to straighten out my room at Wilshire Hill. Should I get a car for Mrs. Yale? I have to write on the calendar that I’ve made it to age one hundred fifty-nine. Pretty close to page one sixty. I told Stone I’d give him a copy. My nose feels sunburned. I never read the newspaper Friday. Whatever. I hope I do well at my game today, and at the same time, I don’t really care. Augh. What else? What else? It’s cool today, but the sky is clear and blue. UghR.