i was depressed.

i felt like i had run a marathon and the end wasnt the end. they didnt have a silver jacket for me they didnt have roses there wasnt a finish line, all there was were television cameras and people saying, keep going, tossing water at me, pressing the buttons on their air horns, cheering, but not really for me, but for anyone.

stupid marathon i said and kept it going.

cursing each step, trying to convince myself that it was all wax on wax off everything meant progress everything meant practice and strength and endurance for the day that it would all have to come automatically because so much else would be getting thrown at you.

at me, that is.

she said is there anything i can do to make you feel better.


do you want me to come over tonight.

fella named kurt had rigged chopper one with aol instant messenger and she did this after she invited herself over


i told her that i wanted to be alone in my misery while i’d practice my golf swing on a cliff over the pacific at the beach house and wishing i was like one of those stolen driving range balls that shot out across the horizon only to soar up for a sec and then peak and drop into the black water and sink sink sink into nowhere.

she asked if i really wanted to be alone and i said i didnt care and then i got reckless and said

get some garters, catholic skirt and some kfc

and she said is that it and i knew something was up cuz she couldnt stand kfc

want me to clean up your house, do your dishes?

so depressed that that didnt even cheer me up.

i pushed the throttle forward and the nose dipped down and i took aim upon the san fernando valley, operator error the reporters would say if they said anything, if there wasnt a car chase to show the people, please be a nice car chase.

she picked him up at the 99 cent store, secret front for the xbi, fairfax division.

now you know why theres two 99 cent stores within a block of each other on fairfax and wishire but lets keep this to ourselves.

black bmw convertible. he hated beemers but he liked her, catholic girl skirt, heels, shoes.

drove through kfc, held hands and listened to zeppelin as they wound their way to the hollywood hills and he muttered that he was a loser and she said did you tivo the cubs game

and he did and she finished her meal and changed into a sexy top and taller heels and went down on him and demanded that he watch the game but his eyes closed and she said the game, watch it, and she went back to being so good

nba cheerleader. total school night.

cubs winning in st louis during the last week in august a game out of first place with good news somewhere in the horizon.

so it wouldnt be today.

and it might not be tomorrow.

but youre still the man.

so much so you cant keep your eyes open half the time anyway.

maybe you just needed some wine she said and he took a sip and rearranged himself.

maybe it was from giving blood.

maybe it was from being dumb.

but whatever it was from, it went back there and it left our hero focused on the present

in a big way.

some girl + jaime + chinomikan + aint no bad dude

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