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Arts and Entertainment

National Novel Writing Month Isn't Easy

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It's hard to tell the tone of comments. Sometimes someone will say something and you'll be all "fuck that guy." And then you'll read it a different way and you'll be all, "Oh he was being nice."

Someone in the comments said that only I would waste my time at writing a bad novel during write a bad novel month.

At first I took offense to it. Words like "waste" will do that to you.

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But then I thought, maybe the guy was saying, "only someone as dedicated as you would take on a ridiculous challenge to see Who Can Build The Largest Garbage Ball". while writing 5-6 posts a day, while keeping up a personal blog, while trying to have a life too.

So for that dude I fought on at midnight and didnt pass out on the couch, but cracked open a beer, turned on the iTunes and got back to it,

cuz he's right, only a writer would accept a meaningless challenge to write.

Part three of the masterpiece is after the jump.

photo by Clinton Steeds via flickr

"Right on Olympic" pt 3
(pt two here, pt one here)

mmmm wasnt impressed that i was working in a gas station.

imagine that.

so i learned what i had to learn in about two hours there. how to check the oil, the differences between the various gas hole situations, how to check the air filter, how to sneak peaks up womens skirts.

what you do is you lift the hood to check their oil, and a suprisingly large amount of times if a woman is driving her own car and shes over 30 she will have a little car. and those little cars somehow ... well the angle is just right. youd have to see it yourself.

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open the hood. have a girl in the skirt behind the wheel, bend down over the engine to get the dipstick, and just glance through the slit at the back of the hood and i cant say that i saw many women who werent wearing underwear back then but there were a few.

often we'd get tipped some change or a dollar. i considered something like that a tip.

one lady worked at Sony across the street and sometimes she would give me a little stack of records.

people were very nice.

occasionally id go back to my old work just to say hi to the kids. one day one of them said hey lllllllllll's having a party. so i went to the party.

i met a short girl with platinum blonde hair.

the whole time i talked with her she didnt stop smiling. so i asked her for her number. she gave it, i called, and soon we were on a date making out in westwood.

now i dont know about you, but even back then when i was a virgin, at some point the name of the game would be How Far Are We Gonna Go.

this little girls name was oooooooooo because when i reached down up her jean skirt there wasnt anything in my way.

she knew the name of the game but i dont think she was playing it. i think she was playing a very different game called Yes.

can i kiss you there? yes. can i kiss you there? yes. can i touch you there? yes. can i do this to you? yes. can we do it right there? yes. do you love this? yes.

she was beating the shit out of me at Yes.

and sometimes its good to get yourself in situations where when you lose it's not horrible.
will you do this?

yes.

ooooooo lived behind the orange curtain. in the land that time remembered. in a far away place where the girls are sweet but dirty and sweet and have great swimming pools.

once i went out with a girl from seal beach who walked with me to the beach so we could watch the sun rise.

and right before dusk she was all hey the sun isnt going to rise over there.

oooooo's mouth was open and her eyes were closed and that caddilac had so much nonsense in the back seat including clothes and blankets that when pushed where your legs would go, it created a huge level playing field where she writhed and i conspired.

there was a 7-11 on westwood blvd i had remembered. my problem was she was gonna keep saying yes to me and at some point she was going to ask me to do something that i was going to say no to.

why wouldnt i make beautiful love to this blonde beauty who apparently needed it badly?

cuz i didnt love her. and i didnt want to lose my virginity to someone who i didnt love.

but that didnt mean that i was going to lose this unspoken game whose rules only i knew.

i went down on the girl and after a long while i said hey and she said mmmm and i said hey i want to go to 7-11 to get a few things. is that ok? and she opened her eyes and instantly agreed.

and soon we were back in the caddy and i was back to what i was doing before, hopefully well, but who the hell knows these things. and i said can i do this and she said

yes

and i said can i put something in you

and she giggled yes

and it was a popsickle and she screamed

jumping up hitting her head on the roof and thats how i won yes on the fifth of july on gayley.

afterwards we went to the fatburger and everything seemed too bright in there so i went back and got sunglasses for both of us as we waited along with seventeen others for our fatburgers.

she looked like movie star

she looked straight at me and put on her lip gloss.

and touched my foot with her foot.

now this girl liked marijuana. oooooo. every occasion called for a joint or a sneak a toke or a bong load. she also liked kissing. so each toke was sealed with a long deep kiss that ended with the exhalation of the weed smoke into the other person.

cute but after a while a little annoying.

added with the fact that one day soon i was gonna lose at yes made me not call her back all of a sudden.

but i did find myself smoking pot a little more after she was gone.

the next week, for example, i was with a little punk rock girl watching a show called Friday Night Videos which was NBC's lame attempt at competing with MTV. an hour of the lamest top 40 videos hosted by a dimwit fake. we were smoking pot out of a pepsi can. she lit up a stick of incense. she invited me to sit on the floor with her.

never had i been confused as a handsome man. but there was this hot punk rock girl totally playing the im just going to pretend that its perfectly normal to watch tv while cupping your crotch game.

when i was selling televisions i often found myself upstairs in the shitty dirty fucked up employee lounge. there were boxes from decades ago in there. there were broken tvs, broken mirrors on forgotten closets. and despite being a pretty good electronics store, the worst tv ever playing nonstop in the corner.

through all that, for some reason, the couches in there, and the ripped up chairs were super comfortable, and it was an odd oasis away from the mayhem of capitalism happening downstairs.

and we'd commiserate, and talk sports, and talk about music, and one day after this one guy finished his cigarette, he said, well, none of you motherfuckers are buying anything from me, so i guess i will go down to where people are buying shit.

stoned, drunk, in back seats on floors in culver city, in front of the tv, apparently thats where the girls were kissing people.

oooooo gave me the confidence i needed to expand my horizons beyond the mall and the gas station islands.

the la weekly described a club over by the beverly center as "the star wars wedding meets the star wars cantina". it was called the Odyssey. ooooo and i would go to 321 in santa monica a lot but i didnt want to run into her there so i got some black puffy pants and a white collarless short sleeve shirt that made me look like probably the gayest boy in town. and karate shoes were big, so those too.

paid the man at the Oddyssey and there on the edge of the dance floor were too amazing girls making out with each other. it was the cure playing. it was sparkly in there. it was throbbing in there. people were dressed great and the weekly was right, like a wedding, people were very happy very sweet very

a man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to dance

whoops.

and you know how you should never go into the kitchen of your favorite little dirty chinese restaurant that has no business being that good and no business being that cheap and they dont know english and you dont know what theyre writing on the receipt but that string bean chicken and brocolli shrimp combo is 4.20 after tax and i know the sign says no msg but theres something in there thats for sure, just dont ask what.

and a few weeks later i heard that the Oddyssey had burned down, and later i heard it was burned down, and later i heard it was burned down because some dude found out his son was gay and used to hang out there.

which are the sorts of things you hear at a gas station. and if you hang out at the pump in a few minutes you'll hear something totally different.

one day two sisters came in. one was punky the other preppy. after a while you could figure out everything pretty easilly. it was a black mercedes sedan. new. clean inside and out. both of these girls were super cute. they said fill it up and i said does your daddy know youre driving his car.

they said we're about to pick him up at the airport.

later they came back in a beige mercedes sedan. a little older. i said so is this your car? the driver said no its our nanny's. we're picking her up at the airport.

i said you girls would make a fortune if you just picked people up at the airport all the time. hell id pay you $20 to pick my ass up.

and soon i had a date with the punky one. they lived in neighboring bel air. their nanny was nice, they were nice, everything was great. but for some reason me and the chick could not click. it was very frustrating because we played a very interesting game called i can be more honest than you.

she said im very lonely
i said who isnt
she said no i see a shrink
i said who doesnt
she said no i see two shrinks
i said second opinions are a must
she said no neither talk to me they just take notes
i said youre beautiful
she said youre cute
i said she me your belly
she said no HA
i said what do you wanna be when you grow up
she said young.

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