1. Saturday, March 15, 2003

    one of the security guards at the xbi gave me some good advice on friday. 

    i read that you’re going on vacation.

    where did you read that?

    he tapped the computer in front of him. i didnt ask if he meant that he read it from my blog or if he read it from hacking into the xbi email system. nothing these days suprises me, especially at that crazy place.

    you should write as much as you possibly can on your vacation.

    but i was thinking about writing just as much, but more carefully, better, cleaner, straighter…

    quanity. you always have quality.

    but i wanted to do big picture web site pages.

    focus on the blog.

    what about a new photo essay?

    maybe do one, but write and write and write. let people out there know what you would be capable of if you werent just writing this during your government mandated fifteen minute breaks.

    people, what people?

    the people who might want to hire you to do this for them.

    how do you know people are interested in me writing for them?

    he tapped his computer again.

    a lot of the security guys are older agents who have retired but want to keep an eye on the action and give advice to some of the younger guys. at 109 i wouldnt consider myself one of the younger guys, but i look a lot younger than i am. im not sure if that always works in my favor.

    you’re not going to be here long, agent. you need to write. let it out. you’re a good man, and i know you work hard. i know your results are better than some people give you credit for, but it’s ok. the purpose of the excercise is to do the excercise and you are doing the excercise 100% and i know youre taking risks and i know youre playing to win. keep playing to win.

    what other way is there to play?

    some people play not-to-lose. they try to play it safe. kick ass. floor it. aim for the big time. dont be distracted by those with no courage or trust. theyre not playing at your level and your level is the xbi level and thats where you need to be and i get it that youre there. now write like youre there. produce, motherfucker. produce.

    i was hot in my ski cap and sweat shirt and backpack and still i stayed there to see if he had any more advice for me but he didnt.

    we talked about the lakers for a little while and then i remembered that the trains dont run as often after 7pm and i left the office feeling free for the first time in a very long time.

    vacation awaited me.

    my clean house awaited me.

    clipper girl awaited me, as did two interviews on monday with companies i didnt want to work for, but they had work for me that i knew i could do.

    super hot chick from work told me that she had just discovered my page and was excited to read all about me and i told her that nothing on here was true and she laughed like i was bsing her.

    id never bs her.

    got home and my place was so clean. i had left a nice tip for my maid that morning And a box of girl scout cookies. in return my house smelled like oranges, the towels in my bathroom were folded on the rail, my bed had been made for me, and she even put the dishes in the cupboard.

    i felt clean, my place was clean, i wanted to rip off my own clothes and just lay nude on my leather couch, but the doorbell rang. it was clipper girl. she had a small bottle of 151in a paper bag, tight pants, heavy mascara, bow in her hair, and what was that? two straws.

    i was passed out by midnight.

    she let herself out sometime in the night.

    in the morning i woke up with the most beautiful sound: rain pouring down pouring down, and when i shut off the alarm i realised that i wouldnt have to worry about that stupid clock for 9 more days.

    and that whole time i’ll play.

    41. Brian ($15)