Prison Wars: An Inside Account of How the Apocalypse Happened By Martin Sanger. Martin Sänger
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Название: Prison Wars: An Inside Account of How the Apocalypse Happened By Martin Sanger

Автор: Martin Sänger

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Контркультура

Серия:

isbn: 9780978577735

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ life to get where I was, resented the glibness of the rich and spiritual. But smiling was fostering a contagious dynamic between us. He was charming.

      “I know it sounds very Malibu. But that’s who lives here in these expensive homes - dreamers. And I think you know that and understand the power of dreams. You, a guy with nearly no family members, who rose from a single – parent, lower middle-class background; You, a guy from a home of no academic distinction who graduated from Yale with honors. You, Marty, must know about dreams.”

      “Wow! Your research continues to amaze.” I really was impressed.

      “And, I like the fact that you’re not upset. I know you’ve researched me too. But there must be a certain feeling of violation when a stranger researches and draws conclusions about you without permission.”

      “No. That’s quite all right. It’s flattering.”

      “I love that! Many people would be incensed and defensive. But you have nothing to hide. You’re very open. That’s why this opportunity would be perfect for you. You’re a surfer, for sure.”

      “You put a lot of stock in dreams and spiritual concerns.”

      “Right-ee-oo! You can believe that. And I sense that you know that the dream precedes the reality and that belief is way more than half the battle. The rest is just sweat. But you’ve done it. Your dream of being a reporter has come true. And now I’m just asking you to believe in a bigger dream.”

      Wow. This laid back motherfucker was smooth. Whether or not I was totally convinced or not, (I wasn’t), he had my interest.

      “Okay. Well you probably guessed that I’d need time to think about it. But I will be at your press conference for sure, if I can get the assignment.”

      “Why wouldn’t you?”

      “I’m a junior staffer. It sounds like a big story. But it costs money to get people like me to locations.”

      “Hold on!” Quentin stood up and walked into the house, reached over a bar, and got a phone. From outside the house I could hear him having a conversation. What a guy! What a situation! I was both stunned and nervously exhilarated. This situation was very out of the ordinary.

      I was getting the feeling that he’d pay me whatever I asked, but I… Quentin came back out onto the patio.

      “Well?” I asked, suspecting, but not fully having the requisite faith to believe it.”

      “I just got off the phone with your boss.” He really did it!

      “Mr. Lockley?”

      “That’s right. I told him I’d be willing to have you picked up in a private jet at the airport nearest your home office if he would let you cover my event. I promised exclusive first interviews for Fortune magazine on the announcement, if he wanted it, and to pay for your salary for the weeks you worked on the project.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

      “No I’m not. I’m really serious. I just don’t get worried. When other peoples’ worries stop them, I listen to them. I find out what they’d need to relax and double it. That way I can focus on dreams of wondrous things rather than fears. And your presence is one of those wondrous things. He agreed to everything as long as everything you wrote about during the time you’re away belonged to Fortune magazine’s parent company. I told him that was no problem.”

      “Wow.” I was saying that a lot and felt kind of stupid for it.

      “Wow is right! So your boss says you’ll be at that press conference. So you will at least do that for me, eh?”

      “Sounds like a done deal.”

      “Definitely. You won’t lose your job. He’s happy. I’m happy. And I hope you’re happy about it too and that all is well.”

      “I think it is.” My inflection implied the definite yes my words didn’t.

      “Feel that buzz? That is the excitement of living on the edge. Don’t worry. Be excited. Relax and enjoy.

      “Let’s play tennis!” Quentin exclaimed after the slightest pause.

      When I told him, near the end of our tennis games, that I had to leave to catch my flight back to Omaha that night, he laughed and said I had a lot to learn. A private limousine was going to pick me up for an already booked flight the next day.

      “Your boss won’t mind. Trust me. After the deal I just worked out with him, just tell him the truth and don’t worry.” At this point, having seen his ability to assuage my boss’ worries, I didn’t. For the very first time, I allowed myself the freedom to brush off my normal nervousness about my boss’ state of mind.

      “Let’s go for lunch. I know a place on the beach.”

      This was fantastic. My article profiling young entrepreneurs would have at least one installment with a strong element of private scoop. At lunch I continued the interview.

      “How do you stay so calm?” I asked as the blond slender waitress placed my omelet in front of me. After she was convinced that all was well she left and I continued, “You’re not like the other entrepreneurs I’ve met. You’re calmer. It’s in your breath, if you’ll permit me a writerly insight.”

      “With my blessings, by all means.” So many of his statements were punctuated by broad smiles.

      “Other entrepreneurs give off the air of being happy and self – satisfied, but they always have a deep need to be seen. Their posture is wolf-like. They aren’t really relaxed. But you seem genuinely relaxed. How do you do it?”

      “Well. I do the usual. I meditate.”

      “Hence the breathing.”

      “Good writerly insight.” He smiled broadly.

      “I also play the saxophone to relax…” Looking back on it, this most auto-erotic of all instruments was perfect for him.

      “Saxophone! Do you play in a band?”

      “No. Just alone. But I was in a band in high school.”

      “That’s not in your standard profiles?”

      “I wouldn’t think so.”

      “What was your band called?” I pushed, hoping for a usable detail.

      “The Dorian Gray Romance Band.”

      “Nice name. Very literary.”

      “Thanks. Did you ever play in a band?”

      “No. I’m not that kind of artist. But,” I continued with growing confidence, “This is, finally, not your interview of me, but my interview of you.” My СКАЧАТЬ