Everything was FINE.

I showed Dawne some stuff I'd written. Chris called and said that he wanted to go out to the bars. Dawne had to study so didn't go out and dropped me off at his house. Had a coupla beers at his and Tony's place, shot the shit, Courtney joined us. She just got back from seeing a show about 'Mr. Show' at UCLA. with Mark. He didn't go with us cuz' he was supposed to take his C-Best test the next morning. "Hi. My name is Mr. Vermillion and I'll be your substitute teacher for today." Mark just graduated and now to make money while living at his parent's house, works for LAWRYS. Yeah, the spice people. Except, get this-he doesn't STOCK spices, he just sets up displays and bugs the busy supermarket managers to reorder. What? No spice hook-ups? What the hell is the point then? He can't get me anything. No California blend, salad herbs, not even a measly can of garlic salt. Help me out a little. Damn.

So. Like I said.

Everything was FINE.

We met up with Tony and his girlfriend Melissa at the Continental. They were hanging out with some guy that I think I've met before who Tony's toured with. Tony and some of my other friends are in a band called Longfellow. His tattoed friend is in Bullets and Octane. It's a rockabilly/punk band, I guess. The bouncer guy told us that we would have to wait, "too many people, blah blah, I look bored sitting on this stool in Fullerton, California." The last place that needs a bouncer who thinks he's really working in L.A. Some guy though, told the bouncer that we were "cool' and that some people just left and to let us in. So the bouncer did. I said thanks to the Fullerton bouncer guy. He didn't answer back, of course. Fucker. Not to excuse his typical rudeness and lack of cordiality but I can understand his lack of social enthusiasm. Because if I was in his position that would piss me off. You just told a group that they can't get in to your work for whatever reason and then some friggin' snot-nose tells you different and then you look like an ass. Hee-haw. Lick It. There were alot of people inside. Really crowded. Annoying? Maybe. Girls who look like they're sixteen and have huge breasts wrapped in tiny, stretchy tops? Yes. Guys who wear T-shirts and baseball caps? Yes. Say BRO alot? Oh yeah. Drank a couple of beers. Socialized. Whatever. Court, while waiting to pay her tab, stuffed bar napkins down her bra. Waste of paper but amusing. Some guys at the end of the bar noticed. Court started to mop her brow and act embarassed. Went to Back Alley Bar. Boring. Met a girl named Mary that Courtney met through a friend. Crazy. This girl cracked me and chris up. I guess she just moved from...shoot...where was it? Wisconsin? NO...DETROIT. I know nothing about it. Cars come from there, Clarence and Alabama Wohrley do too. Eminem and D-12, right. Yo Yo Yo. I'm sorry Momma. BTW. Random. Method man and Redman are the SHITE but after them appearing in that MTV show that only lasted for a little bit and the underarm deodarant commercial. Wow. Loss of points in my cool book for the both of them. So this Mary gal was funny. Stupid funny. Makes fun of stuff that she just said a couple of seconds ago. Thats good. Laughs alot. Chris and I got a kick out of her. We all went to Mulberry Street Restaurant. Karoake again. I only had a couple of minutes to pick a song because they were winding down, so I sang 'Thats Amore' by Dean Martin. I've done that before but I had to find something quick. Climbed up on one of the tables and sang. Eusebio, the main cocktail guy, let us stay after they closed. We walked back to Chris and Tony's. Shot it. Played guitar with Tony on his four-track for a bit. Kept on trying to get Chris to drop me off back home but he said that he needed more time to sober up. I wanted to call a taxi a million times but he just told me to wait. So, as the clock was ticking away, I was getting in more troblksdkasjdjkdssssssssssssss

ssssssssssssssss

IM TIRED

NOBODY IS READING THIS ANYWAY SO IM GONNA CONTINUE TOMORROW

2MORROW IS:

SLEEP.

$2.75 steak breakfast

Library used booksale

Writing stuff with Mr. Spicy Vermillion

Drunk

And then eating Fondue at Rutabagorez'

MO' LATER...

LATER.

After The Girlfriend isn't mad at me anymore.

Hey Babies-I've gotta a little secret to tell ya'...

I'm SO glad it's cold.

Yes.

I am.

So Much To Learn...
So Little Time...

http://kurellian.tripod.com/lostcv1.html

Ed Norton was just on Letterman. His goatee looked like hell-but funny guy-that Edward. My sympathies, though-to him...He once dated Courtney Love. I like her and all but she seems like she would be a handful to date. Baggage. He's always been cool in my book though, since Primal Fear. Fight Club, though? Whew. Good book/movie. One of those rare instances in which the film adaptation of a novel is equally as good-just in a different realm. Remind me to tell you when me and Ian punched each other in the face at Back Alley (bar). It's a funny, stupid story involving his broken nose and my black eye.

Today sucked. Bad. Not too horrible compared to everything you saw on TV tonight. But still a miasmic mess of major mundane shit packed together in the last twelve hours. Hmmmmm...can I do this? I'll try to give you a quick, non-boring version...

Need smoke first...

KNOCK KNOCK

-who's there?

NOT SELF CONTROL.

That was probably the stupidest thing I've ever written. Fuck. A ' knock knock ' joke?

I'm getting old and stupid. Duh. Listen to me. Oldandstupid. I'm slobbering...

God(s). I'm such a fucking distraction. I can't even smoke-which is a distractionary measure in itself-but-I always plan to SMOKE when my sick insides give me the nudge to do so and end up doing a couple of things ON THE WAY to the back or front yard, read while smoking, keep on reading the book, comic or whatever-nibble on something in the fridge, wash my hands or face, maybe brush my teeth, wake up the girlfriend,either accidentally or purposely-whatever. On and on and on. That's my life. Trying to do a bunch of things or really doing nothing at all.

2day? Woke up. Waited tables because I don't have a real job anymore. I am Jack's spoiled corporate brat gone wrong. It was slow. I made shit. Left. Bought my two newspapers. Comic book store. (sigh) I don't know how that happened. I used to collect them years ago and have started to buy them again sporadically. I haven't though in the last three weeks because I shouldn't and can't financially. I don't buy much anyway, cuz' I find most of it boring or a waste of money. I spent twenty bucks. I read too fast, though. Five minutes for every comic book=two or three bucks. Buy A beer, I say. Yet comic books ARE stories AND writing. So, maybe it's good for me. My screenplays are all ripped off from comic books anyway. HOME=Dawne ( My Girlfriend ) and trying to make the filter on the new turtle tank work. Not enough time for a nap. WORK=switching stations with Brandon so that I could stay later to make more money. All of the tables I would have gotten if I didn't decide to be 'Good"-Brandon had. He made a shit-load. All of the tables I had. All Six of them were old people and pissed off rich couples who gave me nothing. His Forty dollar tips compared to my Two dollar ones. I left. Bought a six-pack. Hung out with Dawne. Called back a couple of friends. Fucked around on this computer. Watched Ed Norton on Dave Letterman.

YUP.

Orgazmo's on...never seen it all, much to the astonishment of my friends. Just missed it, that's all.

The soundtrack has a song with SLAYER and ATARI TEENAGE RIOT, though.

And the Trey Parker and Matt Stone song too...

Enough. Goodbye.

I’ve got mechanical legs
And
A will made of silly putty tonight

An 8 yr. Olds yearnings
And
An 800 yr. Old soul

A happy/old soul
Or
That same old happy soul, I don’t know…

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,


You know what, i'm sitting here
and my mind is blanker than this computer screen…

I could tell you about anything.
The possibilities and areas of potential discussion are endless…
But I might cheese out on ya’
My…strength is dwindling…(gasp!)

I could tell you about how tired and fed up with my stupid job I was today,
And then went on my lunch break, read the paper, read a story about Russian fisherman who walk for two hours in the snow, carving small holes in the ice to catch maybe if their lucky five or more of a certain type of small fish.
Thousands of these fishermen need to be rescued each year because the ice sometimes cracks and separates from the mainland and they float out to sea, only for their ice rafts to get progressively smaller and smaller. Some drown. Some are found in the morning dead of hypothermia. All for something to do. All for maybe a couple extra bucks a month. More food for the family.

And we complain?

Well, yeah. It’s our nature; it’s been programmed into us to focus on what we DON’T have as opposed to what we DO. Mongrels of mankind licking out of half-filled water dishes.

But…

A little part of me was envious of those Russian fishermen,
I was jealous of the raw simplicity of their needs and lifestyle.
We were unwillingly born into this social contract and I understand that, and since I don’t know of any other existence, I’ll lick this lollipop life of mine clean…

But…
To have your resources and availabilities determined by the natural order of life, your success determined by the whims of Mother Nature? You can’t fight it. You accept it. So it goes. The grass is never green on the other side of the fence. No fence! No grass! Y’dig?

Ahhhh! Such sweet and utter simplicity. Geez, the way I’m talking I probably herded Muskrats in the Tundra in my past life.

No. I was a monkey.
A lazy monkey lying on my back
On my bed made of leaves atop the tallest tree in the jungle. Staring at the sky.
Making bananas out of the rushing cloud formations. Reaching out a wrinkly hand, trying to touch them, thinking them real. I want to catch them and stuff them in my mouth.

Are they good to eat? I think to myself in monkey thoughts…

In that life I never catch those clouds…but somehow,

I know that they are.

Yum.

MonkeyThomas Malone

This is my first entry and already I have to pee, get another beer and smoke. Get used to it.

My name is Kevynn.

Damn. Now what?