Sloan's Book Press, Peter, Julia & Kitty

My 9/11 book, see the profit margin is HUGE.
If I sell this entire stack of books of 50 books which cost me $2.15 each it is a easy grand, rent for a store, not needed I got permission from a private building owner. This summer doing an extra nice job I bought stickers for the inside cover of my book and even a 9/11 hat, dressed as a T in all women's clothing but keeping it to tight jeans because it is not a club. If I really with stand the resilliance of all the W.T.C. security which sometimes freaks me out and I leave early I can make $200-500 per day we will see how it goes.

But Liberty Park World Trade Center where I was fortunate to get started in 1998 turned out to be a big discrepancy on my resume no one could verify 1999, but was actually 1998 - current, after meeting seedy guys like A, Williams at the smoky joint 41st street, and the local cop next to 41st street lawfully told me because I was a minor he arrests people at this joint for so much as getting to many door inquiries, Bryant Park being public and limited and regulated by city police, Steinway which we had all heard of being fortunately for me too far from where I live on the Q train in Brooklyn and looking at what happens to guys like Robert Chen not able to be employed because he spends a huge bill on credit cards for strippers, Mikhail Layevskiy's Taj Mahal but the guy is such a compulsive gambler that he borrows from his dad but blows it on Black Jack straight off the bus and roulette as well guy lucky to make $1,500 per year if he pushes it, some other clubs busted on rent and I got a permanent venue to sell my "9/11 World Trade Center Re-Investigated" book basically my dad and I branched off to other areas than haggling around chess clubs but to think if a sit down chess player charging $2 per game can barely make $20 all day minus metro card and lunch the guy is bust, books was definatley the best way to go as an artist and the main reason I stopped going to chess is someone asking me what I have been up to to stay out of trouble but never bothering to ask about my artwork is such an insult these guys may quite possibly never see me again.

Chapter 1: It Was the Summer of 1999… and I was hanging out at the Manhattan Chess Club on restaurant row, 46th street Manhattan. A few slimy individuals walked in introducing themselves as professional backgammon players. One of them was named Gabe who said I had enough skill to beat the competition at their World Trade Center chess club and I was invited to go to the financial district World Trade Center and start my first day of chess and high stakes backgammon. I was taken back as to how I would get past security or how I would be allowed to play being a college applicant and not having more than $5 in my pocket and a pack of cigarettes. I went down to Cortlandt Street on the R. Train and walked up an open mezzanine that had benches with people eating lunch. At first I did not find any chess tables but noticed a crowd of businessmen and very well dressed men standing around in a crowd around a group of tables. I walked up closer and found a backgammon table with a very fat man smashing his checkers and dice and cup and talking with a speech impediment. Sitting next to him was Gabe who signaled me hello and gave me a heads up to get a chess game started. I walked over to a second row of tables with a row of men in their later 50’s sitting and calling out “Chess; Anyone want to play chess? Three dollars a game, no experience necessary.” One of the regulars, Joe, invited me for a few dollars a game to the winner. I played for about an hour and won all of the games except for two and cleared him out of $30 which was all of the street hustler’s money. He complained that I was this 19 year old was looking like some Russian that walked up, put up a fist and told me that was a nice visit but I was not allowed to come back. It was my first day and did not want to get approached by security for shaking this man’s pockets empty so I quietly put away my cash and left the park on the subway back to my home in Brooklyn, N.Y.