opening kickoff

mellow night at work this evening. but that was just the end of the day.

woke up before the rising sun and let j out. she was in her scrubs and holding a big bag filled with yesterdays clothes and when i kissed her she smelled fresh of the oatmeal and shea butter scrub i have in my shower. then i slept again for a few hours.

when i woke a second time i went straight to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. it was half hour to noon and i wanted a cigarette. but before that i threw on some jeans and a shirt and i went out to the store and bought some toilet paper (i also contemplated a beer but decided i couldnt afford it so got paper towels instead).

i sat at my computer and drank coffee and watched porno while smoking a cigarette and waiting to shit. then i texted j. i put the football game on. i read email and played family feud on facebook.

it started to rain and i poured myself a shot of whiskey.

i had a book to read. lysistrata, by aristophonese. so i read it. its a small greek play. ancient, i suppose. the plot is simple. the wives of soldiers in the athens army decide to withhold sex from their husbands until peace is drawn up in the war. the soldiers eventually come crawling back from battle, boners bulging, and beg to have sex with their wives. they will do anything. so the wives say 'well we wont fuck you until you call a truce.' and the husband soldiers say, 'ok we'll do whatever, just let us get some pussy!' and they draw a truce up with the enemy and everyone fucks and is happy and dances. the end. it was a quick read.

then i took a shower and i smelled of oatmeal and shea butter and i went to work at the bar.

it was the opening day of kickoff. football fever was all around us. you could smell the pigskin on everyones breath. cheap american beers by the bottle. buffalo wings and loud voices. the drawer wasnt bad and the tips could be better, but it was an easy evening, so im not going to complain.

when all was said and done i sat back in the quiet of an empty watering hole with a beer in my hand and the fans whirring. my barback was there, this kid from the hood with a kid of his own. he rolled a blunt and we spoke of street shit and how to survive illegally. then we closed the gate and shook hands and he went home and i went to another bar.

there i caught the close of the mtv video awards on a huge flat screen tv. justin bieber was giving an acceptance speech and thanking la ried and usher. then lady gaga accepted an award. i had a bud light. kanye did a song but it was boring and i wondered if maybe i didnt get it. i smoked a joint with a guy i didnt know outside. then another guy offered to buy me a drink so i said, give me a shot of jameson, because i dont want to stay too long.

i walked home loose and warm even though the whole city is wet from the rain earlier. when i opened the door the kitties greeted me. i stooped down to them and slurred, "hello gatos! hola my little friends!'

an unexpected package

she had a delivery sent to her and it arrived under the bright orange glow of early afternoon. a soft brisk wind tickled the delivery mans collar as he stood at the door waiting for her to sign. all around them the quiet of autumn, only their polite exchanges lost in the air. sign here ma'am. thank you. thank you. she watched him walk down the driveway towards his truck and thought to herself, that was a nice young man. the package was large and nearly weightless considering its size. it was unexpected, the best gifts always are, and she set it down inside the door. across the road a field of golden bones leaned in the breeze. i wonder what it could be, she asked aloud to no one. the dog came to the porch and sniffed at her feet then sat and waited. not now, she said, mama's got to get dressed first. she grabbed the package while going inside and shut the door. the dogs black nails clicked on the tiles as it scuttled behind her. the house was caught in a familiar silence. she sat on the couch and the leather cushions wheezed and the sun grew older and but no warmer in the sky. with a pen from her robe she cut through the tape and folded open the package and sighed. two pears, a crate of strawberries, and a chocolate bar. the note beside them was on a small sheet no bigger than a photograph. it read, in a wonderful handwritten cursive, This will get you through the day. Enjoy.

stuck in neutral

it is a quiet seventy two degrees and the sky is descending into a chilly grey and i can hear voices out my window and voices in my head and they are having a muted conversation i cant understand. i am supposed to be writing a story that is due on october first but i cant seem to get anything out, at least nothing worth a damn. there is no ending to the story and usually this doesnt matter but for some reason i feel if there is no ending to this story this story has no meaning and isnt worth the time to write.

but its already half written, the characters have been drawn, their motivations established, the setting painted in pretty words and phrases.

i cant find it in me, and i cant find it in those that surround me, and i cant find it in the city or the night or the early morning. the ending, the meaning, the reason for the pages. all i have a collection of painfully insignificant passages, of obvious dialog and weak description. broken paragraphs that say nothing, choppy cadences and flawed metaphors. i try to make some sense of it, to stitch it together using half inspired patches of prose, but it doesnt work. it was a faulty design to begin with. this engine will never run.

prospects

it isnt that im an unsavory person, though i do admit to having the capacity for depraved or lecherous desires. (i am, if nothing else, a human fully aware of his appetites.) and i reject the notion that am any more lowly or sleazy than the next man. but i have to say, im sorely disappointed with the quality of women in this semesters selection of classes. i dont ask for much, and i never intend to hit on my classmates, but its always nice to look forward to a pretty face when challenged with three and a half hours of lecture.

in my film class there is the Spanish girl with thick thighs and dirty blind hair who has full lips and blue eyes but has that needy demeanor im only turned on by when drunk. in my women in history course there is the dark brown girl who dyes her hair blond and clearly takes a hot comb to it, with big tits and a nice smile and an eager attitude that screams overachiever. and in my Spanish course there is no one. at best the middle ages mother of two with the pin up girl hair-do and a seemingly endless wardrobe of damsel in distress dresses.

other than that there is a smattering of men still clinging onto their rebellious hair length, who sport goatees and loose, casual shirts that hide their advancing girth and show off their indifferent fashion sense. there is Phyllis, the almost sickly thin black woman with the wide, desperate smile and salt and pepper hair. there is carol, who looks like shes paying her way through college with the money she makes in truck stop bathrooms. there is Agnes, who is the kind of women you know looks good in her old pictures but these days resembles just what she is, a grandmother three times over. and of course we cant forget Sylvia, who comes to class straight from the office, hands probably still cramped from all the calls she spent her day forwarding.

and then there are the others, but they all fall into those five characters, more or less.

im not saying anything is wrong with these people. they are no more exciting or inviting than myself, but my selfish attitude, coupled with my misplaced hubris, longs for some more motivation than just LEARNING to go to school. i just want someone to kinda fantasize about during the lulls. a face to look at when im bored. perhaps someone to make jokes with during our breaks. its not like im asking for romance. jesus christ who has the time for that? but it would be nice to feel like im not the only not-entirely-over-the-hill student in my classes. jeez, fucking gimme a break