1. Thursday, September 12, 2002

    karisa greets me each morning with an email of love 

    and how do i repay her? usually with tawdry tales of my previous evening, lies about my future, and exaggerations of my prowess on the softball field.

    last night our team won its first game. we’re now 1-1.

    i didnt make many errors, i got two hits, drove in a run.

    i attribute my good play to the newly applied pregame ritual of a long walk, followed by two monster tacos at jack n the box, followed by a nice visit to the mens room for a good 10 minutes.

    when your mind, soul, and colon are cleared you can play softball with reckless abandon.

    the aztecs taught these lessons.

    after the game i took the 217 fairfax to hollywood blvd and saw a prosititute take the subway to north hollywood.

    she was a beautiful black woman with long blonde braids. me and this other guy were staring at her. he more than i. i was reading some short stories by jeff noon, “pixel juice.” my friend just stared at her.

    he had a sweat suit on, a raiders cap tilted sideways atop a red dew rag. $200 jordans. gold rolex. pardon me, but i thought he was her pimp until she got on the northbound red line and he and i waited in the breeze for the southbound train.

    he stared at her the entire time.

    “you’re gonna burn a hole in the back of her head,” i told him.

    he didnt say anything.

    finally he said, “was that a woman or a man?”

    “oh that was enough woman for both of us.” i said. and went back to my book.

    she was a woman.

    today i have to do some really nasty terrible fucked up shit that will probably take all day.

    so only expect a half dozen entries.

    sorry.

    p.s. to see ken and matt sing the song (below) click the picture of them. it’s my favorite song of the year.