9:21 PM Th 8-30-01

Shit. I’m tired. The wife told me to go out, but I feel too old and broke and conservative and tired. I typed fifteen minutes on the laptop during a meeting in the auditorium at Wilshire Hill today. It was a very depressing meeting. I don’t want to be a teacher anymore. I want to pass through the door into a new life.

I don’t know if I can do a good job anymore. I puttered around my room a few hours trying to straighten up and get ready for the new school year. I didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing. I had volunteered to be a mentor teacher, and I felt like I must be a joke to the other teachers, like I’m the one who needs a mentor. I have to check out a website for the application. I rode my bike home. Rochelle can’t find her keys, so I had to give her mine so she could take the baby for a checkup. Otherwise, I might have gone out for a drink. I tried to read the newspaper but dozed off. The phone rang. Rochelle’s sister wants a piece of us this weekend. My friend, Drew, invited us to a barbecue this weekend. I was supposed to call him back. The baby is 29 inches long, which puts her in the 90^th percentile for her age and 19 pounds which put her in the 50^th percentile. What a kid! I go the grill going out back and threw on some marinated swordfish. I nuked some leftover rice and canned peas and poured Rochelle a glass of Rosemount ’99, red. The baby ate Rice Krispies and Cheerios and peas and rice and a little swordfish. After dinner, I finished the paper and watched the Bosox lose in a sweep to Cleveland, UNLV blew it against Arkansas. And now here I am recording the most mundane aspects of my life. I don’t have the nerve to try to smoke up something revelatory. Where’s my divinorum?