in the days of chimpanzees i was a koala.

its been a long night here at the xbi and rarely do i write you from here.

it’s quiet here. the wind isn’t blowing any more. it’s warm. i think i have a quasi-date tonight. not so sure.

im so olde that even if she cancels on me i wouldn’t care one way or another.

crazy, huh?

if you saw the chicks that i couldn’t care less about, you’d ask me if i was gay.

maybe i am if that’s the litmus test.

im just olde and lazy and so tired by the end of the day that im not so crazy about going on new dates any more even with girls i have no business being with cuz theyre magical and amazing and whatever and whatever.

im sick of telling the story of my life over and over and over.

im so happy when hot babes who read this blog want to date me. im shocked half the time and i ask them why they never left any comments and they usually say its cuz they didn’t feel like they had anything to say.

oh theres the maintenance crew. i never see these people. im either up in the air or gone by now. im hardly ever at my desk any more, something i like.

i like you. i like all of you. even the retards. whatever to the rest of you. jk.

anyhow i feel like a burrito with extra guacamole, i feel like a big coke, i feel like a kiss and a hug and a cute girl with long hair to hold my hand as i fall asleep watching whatever foreign film she picked up in her sports car on the way to my hollywood cabana.

i feel like making lust.

but maybe next week.

brit coal

had a couple drinks after work tonight.

got out into the wind and the cold. and walked a block and turned around to see if a bus was coming. ha!

walked a few more blocks then started to run cuz i get hyper and i wanted to let the wind push me.

my backpack was heavy and i was a little buzzed but im a man, i can handle it.

some fucking bullshit was happening on the other side of the street and i ignored it.

got tired around the hollywood video and started walking, turning around at each busstop to see if there were any lights appearing at the horizon, none.

saw two women cops descending a staircase. they walked to their black and white and the doors were unlocked and the taller woman gave me a good look as she got into her car. a good look.

id never seen two women cops as partners before.

we sure didn’t have that at the xbi.

kept walking.

passed my barbershop but it was dark in there. it was late. no busses were coming so i crossed the street and thought about going to burger king, but then remembered there was a burger king right by my house.

then a bus came. it was crowded. i was hungry. i saw a lot of people on the bus and none of them were happy. i sat down next to someone who was asleep and continued reading ball four.

ironically i got to a part in the book where bouton was talking about being in berkeley in may ’68, and it made a really good book even better.

“This afternoon Gary Bell and I hired a car and drove up to the Berkeley campus and walked around and listened to speeches–Arab kids arguing about the Arab-Israeli war, Black Panthers talking about Huey Newton and the usual little old ladies in tennis shoes talking about God. Compared with the way everybody was dressed Gary and I must have looked like a couple of narcs.

“So some of these people look odd, but you have to think that anybody who goes through life thinking only of himself with the kinds of things that are going on in this country and Vietnam, well, he’s the odd one. Gary and I are really the crazy ones. I mean, we’re concerned about getting the Oakland Athletics out. We’re concerned about making money in real estate, and about our families. These kids, though, are genuinely concerned about what’s going on around them. They’re concerned about the way things are and they’re trying to change them. What are Gary and I doing beside watching?

“So they wear long hair and sandals and have dirty feet. I can understand why. It’s a badge, a sign they are different from people who don’t care.

“So I wanted to tell everybody, ‘Look, I’m with you, baby. I understand . Underneath my haircut I really understand that you’re doing the right thing.'”

got to my stop and got off.

it was windy and cold. i had wished that i had a little better jacket.

and i wished that i had taken my leftovers out of the fridge.

got on the subway and saw an old black woman with power on her ankles and lots of silver hair streaming out of her winters coat hood.

she also had a blanket.

richest country in the world. i put my head down and read some more of the book.

lots of times when i read i end up thinking about other things.

i thought about a billboard off melrose recruiting lapd, super huge it said starting salaries $48,000 – $62,500.

got off on sunset. why not.

walked down to the wendys, restaurant was empty. good. woman was cleaning the tables. good. woman was moping behind the counter. uh oh. went for the door. locked.

walked around to the drive thru window.

waved at one of the girls. she waved back, disappeared behind a stack of buns.

i waited in the drive thru, dipped into my wallet and pulled out $5 so everyone inside could see that i was a man with money.

saw a homeless man hiding from the wind against the side door of the wendys. he was wrapped in sheets. i easily recognized him as mr. scratchy cuz he was always taking folded up notebook paper and scratching at his clothes with it.

i thought to myself, if this girl comes back and serves me, then i will give mr. scratchy my change.

no one was coming.

a woman mopping was started when she saw me at the window and jumped back.

she made two handed hand gesture.

then she mouthed cars only.

i gave mr scratchy the five and thought that there had to be something wrong with only serving people who drove cars.

legally, that is.

finally got home and got a phone call from you.


diary of an adulterer + bored housewife + raymi, my love