You need

  You need

You need

  That was the clime as people backed off into their own parties in the '90s.  Of course in the trenches of work, it was delicate business to muscle vocal chords into I mean business.

  Not exactly polite on a "write up" added to the sense that everyone other than self to the Great White Father was child.  Better than animal, someone assessed.

  The you needs were infinitely compounded by driving sales which had to be done.

  You need an atache dear, a writing mentor said.  I had shut the fuck up, totally clammed so I'd stopped writing digitally.  Am I going overseas?

  The answer was no again.  But the reference was to more than a briefcase because a party witch had beaten everyone in the computer wording game and twinned it with censorship.  Domestic terrorism.

  It was just a few years later, post9112001, at interdisciplinary arts school, people compared harrowing in just getting there.

  Strip searched.

  All my equipment, gone.

  I shouldn't have declared prairie grass, they tore apart my science project looking for marajuana.

  Wolf teeth beared.  God bless America.  Bless yourselves.

  Checkpoints in other countries co-measurate with censorship here.

  That's it.  I said to my writing mentor.  Then I used "back channels" to get my opinion through.  "Try Cultural Reference Expert." The country of two parties and a lot of independents was still hiring, and still "perfecting" job descriptions.

  Judge's zipper.  

  On briefcases?

  Well, ya,yes and also on talking real loud.

  We weren't trading barbs or secrets.  And we'd already worked through some depths of I hate this piece of barbed wire.