especially the times.
i never sound right in sound bytes. i talk too fast. i talk too crazy. the best way to find out what i think is to chat with me in the IM like a few people did last night, including a young lady who showed me some nudes of herself.
eighteen. gorgeous. admitted that she had a crush on me.
the times said that i thought that Mark from Boing Boing was a nerd.
i dont remember saying that. if i did say it, i meant it in a nice way. for most of my life i’ve been around computer geniuses and sometimes i refer to them as nerdy, but as a synonym for brilliant.
i do remember saying that i was suprised how nervous he seemed. i do remember saying something along the lines that any guy who can launch boing boing, illustrate like this, and go back as far as the Well shouldnt be nervous about talking about blogs.
but whatever. if even the girls who get naked with me, and sleep with me for years on end misunderstand me, it makes sense that a stranger writing for the times would have a hard time with me, especially after i was flying off the buzz of that great panel discussion.
for the record, i was not suprised by how “down-to-earth” Doc Searls was, as i was quoted to say. i had met him once before and he was down-to-earth then, so i didnt expect anything different than what he is: your typical santa barbaran excellent soul living the good life that he deserves.
why must the Times torture me so.
i want to hate them but everyone i meet from there are so nice.
i want to fight against them but i want to work for them so badly. i want to write a blog for them. a blog that they would never do the way i want it, a blog that they would never let me write.
a blog that would have special guest stars like my pal karisa who would write about which bar she danced on top of on a wednesday night. special guest stars like shaq who loves technology and the web. special guest stars like courtney love, who is a los angelino, love it or not.
and then there would be me. commenting on the day to day life of la in a way that you all know i can. but moreso. if i had a car, a press pass, and access to places like staples center, the wiltern, and dodger stadium, the blog that i could write daily for the times would rival anything else that youve ever seen anywhere.
and unlike this page, everything would be true.
mr rogers died yesterday.
and i did think that ev was way cooler than i expected.
fucker.