Corn Dogs In Santa Cruz

I couldn't afford to spend my last remaining seconds looking for reasons.
-Franz Kafka
"Description of a Struggle"

Twenty-five years ago today:

July 7, 1985
Sunday

I woke up. And to get even with the lie Rachelle gave me about skating and going alone to check out scuba gear I chose NOT to call her today.

I went to visit mom at 8:30AM and then decided to go on an excursion at 9AM, heading for Santa Cruz all by myself. I arrived by 10AM and decided to lie out on the beach until one o’clock. There were some definite QBL guys and quite a few looker ladies that were giving me ‘the eye’. I remember a few people telling me that I could have any girl I wanted. Hmmm? I should have tested that theory today. I didn’t though. I just looked. I thought about me and Rachelle and why I put up with her high-school immaturities. I guess it’s because she is so mature in other areas like a.) Our love and b.) Our lovemaking.

By 3PM I drove back to the East Bay. I had a corn dog while in Santa Cruz (on behalf of Rachelle). She introduced me to corn dogs at the Pleasanton County Fair. I had never eaten one before. I drank a large 7-Up and root-beer, too. I was thirsty. It was a hot day. I got ‘red’ again. I hope I don’t peel again.

I drove straight over to mom’s house and had dinner there. Sherry brought my niece, Ashley, to the house. We played with the fluorescent orange golf ball together in the backyard. I took a nap and did a lotion treatment on my body because of the Santa Cruz sun. I also had a relief of a shower there. My hot water heater won’t be working until tomorrow.

“Oh mom, did anyone call?”
“No, Rachelle hasn’t called since I’ve been here,” Mom replied.
“When weren’t you here?”
“I went shopping from ten to twelve.”
This led me to question—in my mind--whether she may have called during that time frame. I remained at mom’s house until 8PM.

I walked into my place and Marty was there.
“Hi Mike. Your friend, Frank, called.”
“Oh Thanks,” I said, and called Frank back right away.
Frank has a new job with Mayflower Trucking. He’s making nine dollars an hour. I’m happy for him.
“I went to Santa Cruz today. And it was interesting because I went all by myself.”
“You should have called me,” Frank insisted.
I told him a little bit about my trauma with Rachelle.
Frank said, “I think you should call Rachelle.”
“Yeah, I will. I’m so hot. I feel the rays bouncing off of my face and shoulders from today.”
Frank reminded me that his birthday is on July 23rd. That’s the day of my Wheel of Fortune audition.

People who live alone have no responsibility in the evenings.
-Franz Kafka
"Description of a Struggle"