(no subject)
Louie from work didn’t feel like spending money at the baseball game. He asked if I wanted to go later in the week, but I’ll be working the next six nights. Every day John and I look at seals, the bridge, and Alcatraz. I have three cigarettes and he has a pint of vodka. He hates San Francisco. I reminded him that people dream about visiting a place like San Francisco.
I boarded the 30 bus to the Giants stadium by myself. The bus driver finally wanted more than a dollar. I stood close to a couple fresh from a hotel room. They were from out of town because I over heard them talking about home, and their Giants jerseys looked brand new. A drunk man in the front of the bus smelled like dry piss. I sat next to a student from USF. She and I looked at his hands, she told me her name, but I can’t remember. After she finished looking at his hands, she assumed he had a case of gout. I stopped thinking about his hands because it was time to leave the bus.
The stadium sold out of standing room tickets. The crowd made me dizzy, I’ve been feeling sea sick all the time. I think I might be a diabetic. John thinks I’m a diabetic because I have to piss all the time when we’re in the freezer at work. I’m surprised he doesn’t piss all the time too. I think it’s the soda.
On the thirty, I filmed a video of an angry white woman. I taped her telling a black man holding flowers that she was wealthier and older than everyone on the bus. She complained about everything. She left her seat to close a window and called the man who opened it a fat fuck. She kept asking the man holding the flowers to call her a stupid white bitch, but the toothless man didn’t say anything. I wanted to call her a stupid white bitch. I should’ve ridden my bike to the game, but the 30 bus is so convenient; it picks up and drops off next to Sophia’s place.
I got into trouble last night, so I called Nick, we met in Palestine; in Hebron. Hebron is a violent city. He’s graduating from Berkeley tomorrow. He always wears a suit and a tie. I waited for him in the alley across the street from the Lusty Lady where Andy and Jodi work. I really like sitting up front in cars.
The fog was fun to watch as a passenger. I felt bad for bringing up his dead father. He didn’t mind me smoking as long as I rolled the window down. I was thankful to be riding to North Berkeley with Nick. This morning we drove to El Pollo Loco in Richmond. I ordered a bean and rice burrito, he ordered two. His roommate Andy came. Andy doesn’t talk that much, he ordered two beef tacos. He let me sleep in his bed the night before. The last time Nick took us to El Pollo Loco I was on acid tapping my telephone on the napkin dispenser and toasting to a life of hell. I was covered in blood, and we couldn’t stop laughing. That day I vomited all over the side walks and it seemed like the whole world was concerned. The puke was cold and thick. Thick puke is terrible. My vomit tasted like vitamins, burritos, and vanilla vodka that day. The acid was still working, and I tried to sleep it off for three hours in the fluff room at work. Nobody asked me about the blood all over my shirt. I dreamt of everything you could think of on the futon in the fluff room. I’d wake up to different entertainers preparing to do funny things, fall asleep, dream about the futon falling apart. I dreamt about Martin controlling the recline of the futon. In my dream he told me that he sees everything that happens in the theatre. Sometimes Steve would yell at the men in the arcade through the paper thin wall, “GENTLEMEN, FIND A FUCKING BOOTH AND FILL A FUCKING MACHINE!” Nothing like that happened this morning.
On the way back from the El Pollo Loco we noticed a dog with one of those satellites around its neck. If that dog has any friends, they’ll lick the wound for him. Nick also showed me a house where a woman was shot by the Berkeley police department. The flowers in front of her place were really pretty, and she lived around the corner from a basketball court. I think it would be nice to live by courts. Nick dropped me off at the Ashby Bart station. I feel bad about using Bart after what the police did to that man. I feel bad about riding the Bart after the way the private company treats their workers.
3.30$ for a one way ride from Ashby to Powell. Every time I exit the subway on Powell I think of Gotham city. The first building I see looks like the Penguin’s house in the second Batman movie. I walked to my old job and picked up the rest of my money. Tex was outside talking to a trick, I interrupted and gave him a giant hug. He’s alright.
He showed me his new 300$ shirt. What a rip off? It looked like it was knitted, it was pink, green, and purple. I think it will shrink. I didn’t hold back. I told him that I think he was ripped off. He said something like, “it’s authentic..blah..blah..blah..” Oh Tex..
I boarded the 30 bus to the Giants stadium by myself. The bus driver finally wanted more than a dollar. I stood close to a couple fresh from a hotel room. They were from out of town because I over heard them talking about home, and their Giants jerseys looked brand new. A drunk man in the front of the bus smelled like dry piss. I sat next to a student from USF. She and I looked at his hands, she told me her name, but I can’t remember. After she finished looking at his hands, she assumed he had a case of gout. I stopped thinking about his hands because it was time to leave the bus.
The stadium sold out of standing room tickets. The crowd made me dizzy, I’ve been feeling sea sick all the time. I think I might be a diabetic. John thinks I’m a diabetic because I have to piss all the time when we’re in the freezer at work. I’m surprised he doesn’t piss all the time too. I think it’s the soda.
On the thirty, I filmed a video of an angry white woman. I taped her telling a black man holding flowers that she was wealthier and older than everyone on the bus. She complained about everything. She left her seat to close a window and called the man who opened it a fat fuck. She kept asking the man holding the flowers to call her a stupid white bitch, but the toothless man didn’t say anything. I wanted to call her a stupid white bitch. I should’ve ridden my bike to the game, but the 30 bus is so convenient; it picks up and drops off next to Sophia’s place.
I got into trouble last night, so I called Nick, we met in Palestine; in Hebron. Hebron is a violent city. He’s graduating from Berkeley tomorrow. He always wears a suit and a tie. I waited for him in the alley across the street from the Lusty Lady where Andy and Jodi work. I really like sitting up front in cars.
The fog was fun to watch as a passenger. I felt bad for bringing up his dead father. He didn’t mind me smoking as long as I rolled the window down. I was thankful to be riding to North Berkeley with Nick. This morning we drove to El Pollo Loco in Richmond. I ordered a bean and rice burrito, he ordered two. His roommate Andy came. Andy doesn’t talk that much, he ordered two beef tacos. He let me sleep in his bed the night before. The last time Nick took us to El Pollo Loco I was on acid tapping my telephone on the napkin dispenser and toasting to a life of hell. I was covered in blood, and we couldn’t stop laughing. That day I vomited all over the side walks and it seemed like the whole world was concerned. The puke was cold and thick. Thick puke is terrible. My vomit tasted like vitamins, burritos, and vanilla vodka that day. The acid was still working, and I tried to sleep it off for three hours in the fluff room at work. Nobody asked me about the blood all over my shirt. I dreamt of everything you could think of on the futon in the fluff room. I’d wake up to different entertainers preparing to do funny things, fall asleep, dream about the futon falling apart. I dreamt about Martin controlling the recline of the futon. In my dream he told me that he sees everything that happens in the theatre. Sometimes Steve would yell at the men in the arcade through the paper thin wall, “GENTLEMEN, FIND A FUCKING BOOTH AND FILL A FUCKING MACHINE!” Nothing like that happened this morning.
On the way back from the El Pollo Loco we noticed a dog with one of those satellites around its neck. If that dog has any friends, they’ll lick the wound for him. Nick also showed me a house where a woman was shot by the Berkeley police department. The flowers in front of her place were really pretty, and she lived around the corner from a basketball court. I think it would be nice to live by courts. Nick dropped me off at the Ashby Bart station. I feel bad about using Bart after what the police did to that man. I feel bad about riding the Bart after the way the private company treats their workers.
3.30$ for a one way ride from Ashby to Powell. Every time I exit the subway on Powell I think of Gotham city. The first building I see looks like the Penguin’s house in the second Batman movie. I walked to my old job and picked up the rest of my money. Tex was outside talking to a trick, I interrupted and gave him a giant hug. He’s alright.
He showed me his new 300$ shirt. What a rip off? It looked like it was knitted, it was pink, green, and purple. I think it will shrink. I didn’t hold back. I told him that I think he was ripped off. He said something like, “it’s authentic..blah..blah..blah..” Oh Tex..