Wednesday, July 31, 2013

March 18, 1992
Wednesday

Our resess was cut short. In two ways. For one we were were way too loud! And our resess on the board was also cut short by three letters. Right now we are being VERY loud! Christie just got sent out into the hall. Almost Carson. Also Deondra.

Well tonight at the boys club we will have our banquet. We will get our trophys. Our team gets two.

I hate Carson.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Mar. 17, 1992
Tuesday

I think I'm in big trouble. Alot of people have their name on the board. Yes! I'm not in any trouble!

Tomorrow our basketball team gets our trophys. We get two. The one for the holiday tournoment and the regular season. We ended up in first place for our leage.

Today is St. Patricks day. I tried to wear green today, but I have nothing green!

Monday, July 29, 2013

Mar. 16, 1992
Monday

It's already the middle of March and it's still cold out I'm glad we are going to Ohio for spring break. Maybe the weather is better there.

I had a hard math assignment. I forget if I was supposoed to do 105 B.

I'm done with my report I did on the computer. I did all my math, (I think) all I have to do is finish my journal up. There I'm finished. I'm tired.

Friday, July 26, 2013

Mar. 13, 1992
Friday

Today we have a sub. I don't like her. She's short. I can tell right now we are going to be rude to her. 9 81205 208919 205138518. Pay no attention to those numbers.

Why do I have to sit by Carson and Christie and shermika. They talk alot. Mostly Christie and Carson.

I learned how to play old Sussana on the guitar. Thats the only new thing I have learned.

We need to go to the library now. It's to bad.

                                                                      I hate this teacher

Thursday, July 25, 2013

March 12, 1992
Thursday

Carson just got his name on the board. That makes 5 names on the board and 5 or 6 people staying in. I think it's been a bad and loud week for us.

Saturday I'm trying out for baseball. I hope it isn't cold like it is now. I'm good at baseball but It's running I have trouble with.

I'm doing a report on waves. I wonder if I should work on it. I have one page.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Mar. 12 [11], 1992
Wednesday

Today we must have been the loudest class in the school. It's only Wednesday and we had four letters. At the end of the day we had no letters.*

This morning me, Brian, and Aaron had to pick up the stuff on the bottom of the bus. Jhon [John] was the one mostly throwing things. They were beans. The kind Mrs. Hayden was using for math once. I wasn't throwing anything.


[*These letters, I vaguely recall, were part of some sort of disciplinary technique for keeping the class from being too noisy.]

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Mar. 10, 1992
Tuesday

I have to write about an adventure I had using as many spelling words as I can. I don't have to write an adventure!

Once I woke up. It was the nineteenth of February. I was feeling lazy. It was the weekend. I had fried cereal.
________________________________________________________

Forget that.

I had a bad morning this morning. My mom got real mad because I let out the dogs. They wanted out anyway. Rascal came back. My mom got punky* in the car. I don't know why it isn't Monday.


[*Punky was the name of the other dog.]

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Mar. 9, 1992
Monday

Yesterday I got new shoes. Nike airs. I got them at Pacesetters. Meg got new shoes to. Those are Nikes also.

After that we went to Honey Creek Greens. We played golf. I came in second. Meg lost. My Mom won. Then me and Meg played bankshot basketball. I won. I got 156. Megan got 18. I got a lot of tickets while I was there.

All I have been doing today is fooling around with my shoes.
Mar. 6, 1992
Friday

The spelling bee is today. I have only studied about 10 or fifteen words. I'm not nervous though. Amy doesn't want me to be nervous either. I don't think she wants to do it.

I guess it's been a good week.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Moby-Dick, chapter 118, in which Ahab beats the hell out of his GPS device


For anyone who's ever been so angry at a piece of newfangled technology that you felt compelled to throw it against a wall and curse the extravagant conveniences of modern life, check this out. Captain Ahab was way ahead of you (I'm not sure what a quadrant is, but I take it to be the 19th-century version of GPS):

          Then gazing at his quadrant, and handling, one after the other, its numerous cabalistical contrivances, he pondered again, and muttered: "Foolish toy! babies' plaything of haughty Admirals, and Commodores, and Captains; the world brags of thee, of thy cunning and might; but what after all canst thou do, but tell the poor, pitiful point, where thou thyself happenest to be on this wide planet, and the hand that holds thee: no! not one jot more! Thou canst not tell where one drop of water or one grain of sand will be to-morrow noon; and yet with thy impotence thou insultest the sun! Science! Curse thee, thou vain toy; and cursed be all the things that cast man's eyes aloft to that heaven, whose live vividness but scorches him, as these old eyes are even now scorched with thy light, O sun! Level by nature to this earth's horizon are the glances of man's eyes; not shot from the crown of his head, as if God had meant him to gaze on his firmament. Curse thee, thou quadrant!" dashing it to the deck, "no longer will I guide my earthly way by thee; the level ship's compass, and the level dead-reckoning, by log and by line; these shall conduct me, and show me my place on the sea. Aye," lighting from the boat to the deck, "thus I trample on thee, thou paltry thing that feebly pointest on high; thus I split and destroy thee!"

Thursday, July 18, 2013

March 5, 1992
Thursday

Tonight we had our little "get together" at Pizza City. They had a band but I had to leave. Jamal kept begging me for quarters. I finally gave him some. Just so I rember, Lacey, Ricky, Stewart, Downing, Chuckie, Paris, Dan, Walker, Jamal.

I have a spelling bee tomorrow. I haven't studied at all. Well a little. I'm going to lose so why study?

            (one of my words.)
Poisonous
Mar. 4, 1992
Wednesday

We lost. I can't believe we lost. We won 18 games in a row. Why couldn't we have won just one more game.

We played Michael Allen's team, Carney tire. We had a real good season though.

Anyway the score was 53-47. We lost in double overtime. It was tied. Seven seconds in regulation time. Paris was fouled. The first free throw went way off. An airball 2 feet away from the rim. He just missed the second one. It could have been done right there. I'm watching Michael's game tonight.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Mar. 3, 1992
Tuesday

This morning I woke up at a little before 7:00. At 7:00 I got dressed. Since I didn't have any homework, all I had to do was eat and put on my shoes. After I got that done I went outside to play basketball. I played from 7:34 to 7:53. Then I went back and got my bag. I started playing more basketball. Then when Meg came out, She started playing with me. Then I heard her yell. I turned around and there was the bus. I didn't have any time to put my ball back up. I just threw it behind me. Then I got my bag and left. It's under my grandma's car.

Five of the best books I've read this year


Here are some more favorite books I've finished recently.


Cassandra at the Wedding by Dorothy Baker

This is another NYRB Classic from my favorite period of American fiction, the mid-20th century. It's about a pair of identical twin sisters, one of whom is getting married and the other is coming to try and prevent the marriage.

The Angel Esmeralda by Don DeLillo

This is DeLillo's first collection of short stories, though it spans several decades and just came out a couple years ago. It reminded me how good he is and inspired me to read the rest of his books. I'd already read White Noise and The Body Artist, and I just started Underworld.

Life Itself by Roger Ebert

Highly recommended for people who don't know much about Ebert and might have nothing more than a false and superficial idea of him as a critic and writer. It was especially interesting to read about his childhood in Urbana, IL, not far from my hometown.

Drinking with Men by Rosie Schaap

A great memoir about the author's love of bars and bar culture, with each chapter dedicated to a specific bar she frequented at one time in her life.

Seven Days in the Art World by Sarah Thornton

A great introduction to the behind-the-scenes workings of the art world for people, like me, who don't know much about it.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

She Once Had a Threesome with Two Guys from the Strokes


I went on a date with a woman who told me she once had a threesome with two guys from the Strokes. At that point in the date, I had already sabotaged, with my awkwardness, any chance I might have had with her. Now I was kicking myself. Imagining her with two guys (the fact they were rock stars was inconsequential) turned me on so much it approached a kind of anguish. I've never left a date feeling so angry at myself. I felt like I'd blown a rare opportunity. But what was I missing, really? Even if I'd ended up having sex with her, it's not like I could have traveled back in time to witness or participate in her experience with the Strokes. And she said it was the only time she'd ever done a threesome, and it was a long time ago, so it's not as if it was likely to happen again with me. But the fact that it was an "out of character" act for her turned me on even more. It had been a spur of the moment thing arranged by a female friend of hers. There's nothing more erotic than stories of "regular people" finding themselves in out-of-the-ordinary sexual situations—by the time I met her she was a professional corporate type in her late thirties. And there's no fantasy more arousing to me than an MMF threesome. So you can see why my frustration after this date was so extreme.
March 2, 1992
Monday

Yesterday me meg and my mom went to honey creek greens. The first game I lost. Megan added our scores. First we thought I won. But Megan added wrong. I should have known she was adding wrong. I got 62 instead of 52. Then me and meg played indoors  I beat her there. 52-59.

Today we are going bowling. It won't be fun if they tell us how to do it. I have my own way.

Monday, July 15, 2013

Feb. 28, 1992
Friday

Today hasn't started out so bad.

I have basketball practice tonight. We need to work on our fast break. Last night we voted if we should have practice. We voted yes.

The weekend is going to be fun. I'm glad it's Friday.

I have to do math now.

Today is boring.

Sunday, July 14, 2013

About about


Attempted yet again to start writing a novel today. As usual, I managed one paragraph before giving up. It feels so frivolous. With any given story, the question is: Why? Why am I writing this particular story? What I really want to write about is myself, but my life isn't novel-shaped. Or it feels like a novel that's only a third of the way through, nowhere near complete, so how can I make that into a complete novel? But when I try to write fiction in the first person, that "I" always ends up being me. It's hard to write "I" and not feel me. I don't have much imagination. Maybe it feels weird to write about other people because I feel so mystified by other people. I don't feel qualified to write about people, because I don't know anything about people. I may not know myself either—it's up for debate—but at least I know my thoughts, confused as they may be. I don't know other people's thoughts, and I don't feel comfortable guessing. I think a lot of what novelists do is just to guess what is going on inside other people's heads. They always seem so certain too. Confident and authoritative. You have to be both in order to write fiction. That seems to be a rule.

Just the notion of writing about things makes me feel tired. With poetry, the writing and the things are one and the same. I don't worry about about in poetry.

I have trouble concentrating too. The incredible powers of concentration required to sit down day after day for hours at a time and work on a novel—it's too daunting.
Feb. 27, 1992
Thursday

We won our basketball game. I still didn't score. I still have another chance. It was 34-17. They played better than last time we played them. We have at least one game left. If we win that game then we will play in th championchip.

I'm going to try out for baseball this Saturday. First I have to sign up. I hope I have as much luck with baseball as I did in basketball.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

The Sex Lives of Others


A neat trick I just figured out: If I move my chair closer to my bed, I can rest my feet on the bed while I hold my laptop atop my lap. A position conducive to relaxation. My iPod plugged into my radio, tuned to my Edith Piaf station on Pandora. Welcome to my Friday night.

I think I'm basically optimistic. Being uncertain about the future can be scary for some people, but I guess I find it comforting, the possibility that tomorrow will be better than today. I mean, there's a 100% certainty that I'm not going to have sex tonight, but the chance that I won't have sex tomorrow night might be more like 95%. In two days it might be 90%, and so on. The further into the future you try to predict, the less certain you can be. The less certainty, the more possibility.

When I came home tonight, I went downstairs to get the mail, as usual, and as I came back inside the apartment, my roommate was just coming out of her room to get something from the fridge, completely naked. A guy was in her room, as usual. I averted my eyes, but she wasn't alarmed in the slightest. She just laughed in feigned embarrassment and went back to her room. Who knows how drunk she was, but at least she's quiet when she has guys over (as opposed to the way she is when she has her best girlfriend over).

Now it sounds and smells like they're cooking a meal in the kitchen. It's midnight. The sound of silverware clatter and thudding drawers after a certain hour annoys the hell out of me.

And of course, other people having sex when I'm not having sex annoys the hell out of me. I've really started to dread weekends in this respect. In my imagination, this is the time when everyone I know is having sex. Friday and Saturday nights. And here I am, alone as usual, with a roommate whose sex moans I hear at least once a week if I happen to walk by her door at the right time. The other day—I think it was Saturday—I left the apartment in the morning, and I could hear her fucking as I left. Then that night, some ten hours later, I came home and the sound coming from behind her door was exactly the same as when I'd left. It was like they hadn't left the room all day, as if they'd sustained this constant rhythmic fucking the whole time I'd been out of the house.

Fuck the weekend.

Of course, when there's a good weekend, it can be very good. I finally had sex a couple weeks ago for the first time since last summer. A first date. We went to her place. I always prefer going to the other person's place. The other place is always nicer than my place. The tile in the bathroom is always more aesthetically pleasing. "Ooh, look at the tile," I think to myself every time I use the bathroom in a woman's apartment. Hotel quality tile, every time. My place? Not so much. Plus we have the cats here and their attendant bodily excretions and odors. Still, it would be nice one day to have a chance to dip into the huge sack of condoms—172, I counted—that my roommate brought home from the clinic where she works, this supply she was nice enough to offer me. For months now it's been sitting there untouched in my dresser, this bag of condoms, next to my socks and underwear. I haven't had the opportunity to use a single one.

In addition to the self-inflicted torture of imagining and envying the sex lives of others, I've also just finished reading a very sexy (and very shallow and silly) book called Tampa, about a hot 26-year-old teacher who has an affair with a 14-year-old male student. I read the whole thing in just four days because the sex kept me interested. It was entertaining, but would have been even more erotic if it had been more serious. Instead it's like a bad TV movie. (I can only imagine, however, how much I might have enjoyed it at age 14. Most likely my copy would have ended up unreadable as a result of all the pages being stuck together.)

Sigh. Okay weekend, whatever. Bring it on. Where optimism fails, porn steps in to save the day.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Feb. 26, 1992
Wednesday

Today in guitar I learned how to do eighth notes. Just pick down and pick up. I also learned a new cord.

Me and Brian are going to go to Wayne's World. This weekend. I'm leaving him in charge of the snacks.

I don't have much to say today. Actully today is Friday. I'm just writing for Wednesday. Sorry about Tuesday.
Feb. 25, 1992
Tuesday

I wish they gave us more time to sell that candy. I only sold seven items. I don't see how someone could sell 80 items or more. Someone probably did though. I have to turn it in tomorrow.
__________________________________________________________

Today is Thursday now. I still haven't done Wednesday or Today. I have to quit here. Unless I think of something else to write. Today is really Friday. I'm getting you mixed up aren't I. It has tooken two days to write this paragraph.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

My favorite thing about Goodreads is the progress graph, which shows page count on the y-axis and date on the x-axis. If you remember to update frequently enough, you get a pretty good picture of the changes in your level of interest in a book as it goes along. The graph below shows my progress through Tao Lin's Taipei, which I finished today. You'll notice that my pace increased after page 152. This is the point in the book immediately after the marriage occurs, resulting in an increased narrative momentum (or what I might have imagined as such).

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Feb. 24, 1992
Monday

We have an hour of gym today. We're learning how to bowl today. I already know how but they do it every year. I have a special way of bowling. I just throw the ball. I always get gutter balls when I do it the way they taught us.

We won our basketball game tonight. Twenty-eight to fifteen. I almost scored four points. We are the champions for the regular season, and the holiday tournament. It's kind of boring winning all the time.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Feb. 21, 1992
Friday

We are going to have a substitute bus driver for four weeks. Mr. Bower says she is mean. I hope so. John and T.C. and Zack and B.J. and alot of other little kids are going to get kicked off the bus.

I'm glad it's Friday. Because tomorrow is Saturday. I am going bowling tomorrow. I want to go to the mall to. Or maybe I should go to a toy store or a catalog and spend all my money and forget about saving up. That would be fun.
Feb. 21 [20], 1992
Thursday

We had cub scouts tonight. There are a lot of things we need to do and get. We've finished With readyman and handyman. I also did the guide in front of our book. We just finished communicator tonight. Everbody has got to get the wolf and bear badges. Everyone has them but we just haven't got the patches.

I already started selling candy today. Our baby-sitter got some. And my mom is going to take them to work tomorrow.