1. Wednesday, November 12, 2003

    im having the worst day. 

    it’s this job. it’s killing me. when i first joined the xbi they said that it would wipe the smile from my face and it’s true.

    wanted to slam chopper one into the side of the hollywood sign today. and just when i thought that i got called in cuz it’s raining here in LA, and as great as chopper one is, it fucks up in the rain. i dont know why. i used to care. i dont care anymore.

    only problem with such a dramatic end is that the dumbass la times would call it terrorism, i wouldnt get to go to heaven cuz it was intentional, and worst of all it would be the end of the xbi cuz the wrong people would find out what we’re up to.

    its not helping that im reading this kurt kobain book.

    its not helping that every criminal and his fucking brother is in town right now for some reason.

    doesnt matter how much crime we stop or prevent or fuck with. it doesnt matter how many asses we kick or heads we bash or miracles we create or shit we mop up, it never ends. wave after wave.

    its like a toilet that keeps overflowing and it stinks and when youre done the lady says that we fucked up her carpet. its like what?

    i cannot be in this job come january. thats my new years revolution. i’ll move to georgia if i have to. this place makes me sad and made and it makes me give up all hope.

    people ask why i dont send out samples of my writing to newspapers or websites. and they forget that i have done that. ive even gone to lunch and had drinks with some of the biggest entertainment mags in the world. and guess what they reply with. zip.

    we dont want your ass, tony.

    ideally someone will read this blog, or the site, or an article– or their assistant will and they’ll say, fucking a boss, this is the guy, this is whats missing in all of our shit. and they’ll call me up and they’ll offer me something and it will get done.

    thats why i send out these tongue-in-cheek posts to the planet. thats why i write these s-o-s’s to the world.

    you are so fucked up if you are the one who has to chase them. so fucked up. they want you to be like everyone else. they want you to be like the associated press. im not like anyone, and im definitely not like the associated press.

    how long would hendrix be able to play in the eagles? a day. two days? eagles fans would boo him. im getting my ass booed in the xbi. people like me, but some are like, huh?

    they dont get it.

    they say, how can you be a crimefighter and you dont want to kill anyone? how can you work for us and you dont want to steal from the thieves? how can you do this work and be a Christian?

    and now im saying, shit, i dont know.

    i would write for anyone. i would play rhythm guitar for the dumbass eagles with my prince sign o the times guitar and i would sit in the back and waste my life and play c-g-a like a bitch.

    this job has made me appreciate sanity cuz there is none here.

    its awful.

    this chick wanted to netmeeting with me today and i had to say no cuz i was flying back in and she said how about tonight and i said ok and a different girl said i could do her tonight and how can you get those sorts of offers and still be so depressed you just want to take off your helmet and cry in it.

    work at the xbi for a while and you will.

    i promise.

    310-990-7444 + tina + alecia