turned out we werent going to go gavel to gavel coverage of robert blake

so i asked my boss if i could take off early and he said dude, of course. and i was walking down the street. friday. sunny. perfect. free of any concerns.

i pulled my phone out of my pocket walking east down wilshire.

i got out early.

how fun!

want me to pick you up early?



what time could you get here?

four thirty.

make it four twenty.

then she laughed.

eighteen. clipper girl’s cousin. didnt make the clippers cuz she looked too young.

econ major at stanford. down for a long weekend and started reading my blog since her cousin told her she was in it all the time.

i ducked into my favorite rentacar place in the city, enterprise.

they have a deal through the internet where you can get a geo metro peice of shit, but new, for ten bucks a day over the weekend, as long as you have it back by noon on monday.

because they know me, they upgrade me right away and friday i got a new sunfire, 17k miles, cd player.

$9.95 a day.

me and the dude were going through the parking lot and he said he would love to work at the xbi because everyone gets to wear casual clothes since we’re all super under cover.

he has to wear a suit. he rents cars to people.

we walked through the lot and he said, it would be such a different job if i could wear my timberland’s and some roccowear

and a big fat black guy sliding into an escalade said, what do you know about roccowear?

upon inspection he had rocco everything, visor, jacket, dressshirt, baggy pants, and glasses.

then he said, jay-z gave me these hisself.

he pulled his pants down the side of his leg, low.

cant talk rocco without the rocco drawers.

his asian girlfriend kept her pose, waiting for her door to be automatically unlocked. her arms were folded. she had gucci glasses.

then he said, drawers with the condom pocket, and pulled out a thin mesh mini-pocket from the corner of his boxer shorts.

three days before the black moon i was driving down vermont to the sports arena where clipper girls cousin waited for me.

i wondered what we would do as the koreatown buildings threw long shadows across vermont.

i had told her in an email that i was gonna kiss her.

she said good.

i told her that it was a date but it was the only one we’d ever have.

and she said good to that too.

on account of her cousin.

and her ridiculous youth.

how old are you?


you look younger in person.

so do you. are you hungry?

omg, yes!

do you like chicken?

shes from norway.

i love chicken.

i said, do you want to get some soul food?

her eyes got big. cheerleader excited. she’ll make the team next year.

driving down mlk west to m&ms she happilly blurted out, i cant believe im going to have soul food with tony pierce!

why cant life be on tivo?

then she said, youre like the mick jagger of the internet.

and i thought, what, old, and a hundred times better twenty years ago?

we had the best dinner, capped off by six tiny cupcakes of cornbread with melting butter sliding off of them delivered by an apologetic waitress who said they should have been brought out at the beginning of the meal, but these were fresh from the oven.

we dove in.

she said she loves to eat.

i said people should do what they love.

and within an hour my teeth were dragging her collarbone while i was unsnapping her bra strap left handed


so as to not let on

how easily

this motion

has become to me.

the homeless guy