journal 8/18

Hey,


I had an interesting night last night. It started when I ran
into a friend of mine who invited me to have a few beers with him. So
we started talking and it turned out we were sort of on the same
wave-length. He's a really intelligent, really flow dude. He seems to
live in a sitcom, he's a lot like "Cody" from whatever show. He's also
a little bit psychotic but highly flow. He's very ambitious. I told him
I admired his business ambition but to keep it tight, conservative. I
think that was good advice. I learned it from chess. When I play chess,
all kinds of cool attacks and gambits occur to me. But to really play
high level chess, you have to keep a certain zen about you. You never
take chances. You don't shoot til you see the whites of their eyes.
Anyway, We took quite a few bong hits and I was in party mode. I
decided to go downtown. It was about 1 when I got to town and the
"tavern" I'd hoped to vist was closed. You know you're in a yuppie town
when the taverns close at midnight. So I rambled on down to a British
Pub and ordered one shot of Good Irish Whisky. And I just let it sit
there while I played darts. I sipped it very slowly and just flowed
with it all. Some gay guy started harassing me. I don't remember how it
started. I think he started to make conversation and I was friendly but
used the word "dude." So he made fun of that. So I said, "You can go
fuck yourself, dude." And he told me to "simmer down." I told him that
was the yuppiest thing I ever heard. So I turned my attention back to
my chips, good British style chips soaked in vinegar. And this gay guy
asked me if I thought I had more patience than he did. I liked my
response. I didn't get mad or anything. I just said: "I know I do. No
insult intended, but I have a lot of patience." He must have had a
little intelligence because he correctly diagnosed what makes a person
strong or weak. Ultimately, it's patience. I wrote an article about
that once; it was published in the city paper I used to write for. But
he was wrong about who had more patience. He's not even in the same
league as I am. Later, I heard some young yuppie whining about how he
could only get a "$20.00" Irish Whisky. I don't know who he was trying
to fool. So, despite my drunken state, I managed to sink a dart into
the very center bull's eye. I finished my Scotch and figured it was a
good time to head out. Outside, I ran into some poor guy on a bicycle.
He had a broken leg and was wearing a bandana over his face outlaw
style, only it looked lame on him. He said he wanted some weed. So I
invited him into Lithia Park. And we sat by this duck pond and I
lighted a bowl. Then this 15 year old street kid named "Jonny" joined
us. Jonny's a cool kid. He has dread locks and you can tell he's seen
some hard shit. He has a squat somewhere in Lithia Park. So I loaded
another bowl. Then we ditched the guy with the broken leg and walked
deep into Lithia Park. There we smoked two more bowls. The whole time
we didn't really say jack. I didn't think there was much to say. I gave
him my number; maybe we'll chill some time. He has this dog named
"Maynard" and he calls this dog with this rugged accent; I can't quite
place it; lower class Southern comes to mind.

2nd entry: Hi. It's late afternoon and I'm weary, if not deeply
depressed. Henry David Thoreau said that he liked to bathe his mind in
the Bhagavita. Well, I have a copy but I think I'll go bathe my mind in
a forty. This lesbian girl I used to sleep with wrote me. She wants to
have my baby. I don't have to have any responsibility for the child.
But if I were ever in a position to help, I'd be happy to. It brings up
so many questions for me. Are my genes sound? If a girl had a baby with
me, would he be as miserable as I've been? Would I just be perpetuating
all this suffering, pro-longing a losing war? I don't know what the
future's going to be like. This girl already has a son and I think
she's a good Mom. She's responsible.