Bushwick Basketball, Installment 2

Went to courts at 5:30, weather satisfactory, nobody around. Only handball courts full.

Small Hispanic kid and his sister/girlfriend followed me to court. Shot with me for twenty minutes. I asked their names but now forget. We played one on one. He won 5-4 on my generosity.

They left and for an hour nobody came. Shot hoops in waning sun.

Came home, could not watch game 7 of Bruins-Canadiens. Do not get the Versus channel. Very upsetting.

Improv show tonight. Expect it to reflect class.

Stuck in L train for 40 minutes this morning. Saw person with tattoo of person on neck. Asked who it was. Name forgotten. Buckminster Phillet? Something like that. Person had other tattoos, wore rasta hat, red marijuana eyes.

Four rednecks are fishing. One of them, called Jones, dies of a heart attack. The other three rednecks consider.

"Well Elijah," says one redneck to another, "you oughter be the one to tell the widow Jones. You're the one's good with words."

"I ain't even know the widow Jones," says Elijah.

"Even so," says the other, "he's right. You're keen of speech."

"Alright," says Elijah with a sigh.

Elijah goes alone to Jones' house. He rings the doorbell. A woman answers.

Elijah clears his throat. "You the widow Jones?"

"My name's Jones," says the woman, "but I'm no widow."

"The fuck you ain't."