-- Well, now I'm in deep shit. Not just deep, like an abyss, like
the damned Mariana Trench, but filled with shit. (At the deepest
point of the trench, which is also the deepest point on earth, the pressure
is over 8 tons per square inch, or the equivalent of an average-sized woman
holding up 48 jumbo jets. Ouch!) Why am I so low?
Last nite, I'm reading a book on the USFL (it's for school!), and Maya tells me how she's going to Hawaii on Saturday, which I already knew. She then tells me that Jenny is going home this weekend as well, and they want to lock up the house while they were gone. (You can see where this is going, can't you?) I tried to hide the shock on my face and play it off like it was no big deal, but assuming Maya's vision is better than 20/1000, she probably saw through that. But yeppers, I have to be out of the house by Sunday at the very latest. And of course, I have no where to go. Can't go back to Glenrock. Dunno where I'm gonna head. Don't want to throw myself at Ray and his mom's feet to take me back, especially when I have no where to go from there, or the money necessary to find a place on my own. I am fucked. Really, there' only one alternative that I see, and god do I hate it (You can see where this one is going too, huh?). Back to Florida.
I don't have any time right now to worry about shit like finding a new place, since I'm still working on my project (I have until 11:59 Wednesday night). My cosmology final is on Friday...at some time, I dunno when. But I'm not even touching that until I finish my history project. Happy Graduation Dave, you're fucked! Time to enter the real world. Man, last year when I supposedly graduated (I lied to my parents) I did shrooms all night and thought I was on Mars with Sharon Tay. Then my mom came to pick me up, so I drove home for two hours on no sleep, had lunch, and then went and looked at a computer for my brother. My actual graduation is going to be a whole lot less fun. I figure that I could probably have my mom buy me a ticket, and then I could afford to pay to have my stuff shipped back to Jville. God, I hate life. I came out here to finish school, get a job, and get a place to stay. After three months, I'm 1 for 3. In baseball, going 1 for 3 will get you $8 million a year. In reality, it won't get you a cup of coffee.
Sorta takes the fun outta life, huh? Whatever. If I have to go back, then I could go back knowing that I finally got my degree. I've enjoyed myself tremendously here the last three months, even without weed, and even without getting some. I've tried hard to make myself enjoy every enjoyable moment (except for drunkenly jumping on the backs of the UCLA basketball team at three in the morning. That was all Das). Getting drunk in a dive in Culver City, eating cheeseburgers and drinking beer in the Federal Building parking lot, watching satellite TV all day...Ahhh!! I came back to LA to escape rednecks, and instead I've become one! No God, why, why?!?!
Somewhere, forces that I don't understand are conspiring against me.
Shit, some cat who looks like Samuel L. Jackson just walked in. Dressed like em', too, in a hip-length leather jacket and a driving hat. Freaked the hell out of me when I saw him. Just hope he doesn't ask me if I read the Bible...
Shit, I was trying to be optimistic about a possible return to Jville. But now I can only remember now how much I hate Florida, and I have no idea what my plans are if/when I get there. I don't even know where I'm staying past Saturday night, and no time to think about it. I got problems. But don't we all?
Lemmee put this to you: If you buy a plane ticket to Florida ahead of time it's $100-$200. But when you get them on short notice, it's $400+. Why? Does it come with a free blow job?