1. Sunday, March 24, 2002

    due to experimental chemical testing 

    early on in my fbi career, i don’t dream any more.

    i know people say, “you dream, we all dream, you just dont remember it.” but i assure you, i dont dream, and i would remember them. my memory is horrible but i remember my dreams in vivid detail.

    and dont get me wrong, im not mad at the bureau, i volunteered for the testing knowing full well that the dreamstate could be removed, and that was fine with me. i hate dreams. i consider them dirty lies thrust upon my sensitive soul at my most vulnerable.

    if i have a good dream and i wake up, im bummed that it wasnt real. if i have a bad dream and i wake up, im bummed that my rest was interrupted by horror. my life is interesting enough and i’d rather make up my own lies, thank you.

    because of this condition, i sleep incredibly soundly, i require no naps, and i only need a few hours and im good.

    the fbi considers it a disorder, i consider it a superpower.

    maybe it was the shots at the tsar show last night, but i had a dream last night and it made me really happy and now that i am about to describe it, perhaps you will see the ridiculous nature of these nocturnal transmissions.

    i was playing first base at the houston astrodome, which is fucked because they dont play pro baseball there any more, and im a shortstop.

    barry bonds blasted a single right past me, the right fielder threw it into me, bonds made it back to the bag safely, i faked my throw to the pitcher, bonds moved his foot off the bag, i tagged his thigh and the umpire signaled “safe.”

    i stomped my foot and said, “must the runner be on the bag, or does barry bonds have some buffer zone around the bag that no one else has?”

    and the umpire aggreed with me signaled “out” and i jumped in the air, ran off the field (since it was, apparently, the third out), rolled the ball towards the mound and received high-fives from my teammates.

    all i wanted to do on the bench was talk about how great it was to dupe bonds but my teammates seemed preoccupied with the fact that now we were on a power play as the field had turned to a hockey rink very smoothly, and with no objections from anyone. myself included.


    as stupid as it was, i woke up so happy. im happy still. i cant stand barry bonds. im in 12 fantasy baseball leagues. this morning this one guy picked him as the 11th pick. i laughed.

    the academy awards is happening about 3 miles away from me. it’s a beautiful day here in hollywood, and a perfect time to do laundry followed by Zankou chicken – which Amy first took me to.

    speaking of friends, i have the best and it was so good to see so many of them last night. much better than any award show, or chicken, or tagging out barry bonds, if youre scoring at home.

    and if you’re scoring at home, use protection.