1. what should i write more about in july
2. what shouldn’t i write about in july
heres hoping yours dont make the front page of the paper.
hardest thing about working at the xbi is that theres no room for mistakes. it reminds me of marching band in high school.
like a dumbass i tried out for the band as a senior. they gave me the biggest bass drum there was.
the band director told me that there might be times when i would think that i could hide behind my instrument but that i should know, straight up, that there were judges everywhere, including at the top of the stands, who could see that huge drum and they could say, “why is that fool out of step,” “why is he hitting his drum out of sequence,” “why isnt he spinning on his head with the others?”
marching band in high school was the first time that i learned about how to be at 100% 100% of the time. i learned that it was impossible.
i also learned that you didnt really have to be at 100% 100% of the time, that sometimes you only had to be there, really, for about 12-14 minutes.
at the end of the football season our marching band was awarded second best in the state and our drumline was voted best in all of illinois.
since then ive been at 100% 100% of the time only a handful of other times: at the daily nexus at ucsb, selling hot dogs at candlestick park, at the dot com in westwood during the dot com boom, and now at the xbi. each time was a ballet of teamwork that resulted in wonderful rewards.
the troubling part about all of this, of course, is the morons of the world who wouldnt know 100% if it slapped them across the face 100% of the time got to enjoy the ride right along with those of us who hustled. and in many cases they ended up with far greater rewards.
even the good book says that this will be the case, which is soothing.
sucks, but whatev.
cuz im such a fucking stud.
i heard the telephone ring inside and i thought who could be calling at this hour.
i heard my voice announce caller i-d say “trouble” which i attribute to a few of the women who know my phone number particularilly those who are either not of legal drinking age or not of legal talking on the phone age or the daughter of someone who — well, you get the picture.
the caller id said “trouble” and it startled me and i stretched the garden hose forgetting that there was a hole in it about ten feet from where the nozzle is and the spray from the hole bounced off a stepping stone, squirting me on the side of the pajama dousing me and getting the stairs all wet.
at first the rush was shocking and disturbing but i faught the hose, lost, while eventually shutting off the water.
i climbed the stairs and went into my pajama closet and found a new set of tops and bottoms. stripped. towel dried. laughed. put on the dry clothes and retrieved my message.
it was that one girl.
the tall one.
lots were tall. fine. the tall young un.
giggling as they always do. with her friend as they always are.
the message sounded happy but urgent. dude you better pick up your phone she said.
so i called her back and within minutes they were at my house drinking looking around the place eating and then finally sitting down.
they said they wanted to read my mind.
oh no you dont.
oh yes we do.
and while one lit candles the other found the remote and turned off the tv and then asked me to put something good into the stereo
sonny rollins. blue 7.
and one got on one side of me
and the other got on the other side.
and they both looked at me.
i had just shaved my head real good.
my face was smooth too.
one said what are those bumps on your face
sometimes when i havent shaved in a while that will happen
and then they started to read.
and then they started to cry.
and soon one shook the other out of it.
then they sat on my porch and had a smoke
not even realizing that the stair was still wet.