i walk around and i smile and i swoop down from the heavens and do my thing and disappear in the smoke and mayhem but when the bell rings and i put away my number two pencil i don’t know shit.

somehow i figured out money. for me, money.

i also figured out how to go on dates. how not to fear things. how to beat crime. how to bet on baseball.

how to use the force.

but those things don’t mean anything.

what means anything to you.

i don’t even know what means anything to me.

right now making dreams come true means something to me. making mountains out of molehills. finding out how small a mustard seed of faith i need to move that mountain.

people write and say nice things and link and it doesn’t help you’d think it would, it doesn’t.

it makes me look back at what they saw and i don’t see it.

people ask about the links but they should pay attention to the pictures. the pictures are the distractions. the pictures are to make up for the words. the pictures are to make up for the grammar spelling sloppiness hurriedness technology lack of everything

sometimes i don’t even know who im comparing this to. my friends, obviously, cuz they’re not only pros but they should be pros. but even the fakers. even the fake pros who don’t believe all that right wing hoo ha but they type it cuz that’s where the audience is and the meal ticket and the next job.

my kingdom for someone to say i am not better off now than i was two and a half years ago, they found no weapons of mass destruction, they lied about what they knew on 9/10, they lied about pretty much everything and now they’re giving unnecessary tax breaks at a time when our country actually needs money, fuck bush. where are the big time suit wearing mother fuckers with the fuck bush in the lede?

all over the world there are big time suit wearing leaders on both sides of the fence except in the home of the brave.

here there are just the conservatives the ultra conservatives and the fucking losers.

people forgot that the liberals are the last successful party. and other people are selfish enough to pretend that the dems didnt do anything for this nation. fuck both of them.

i don’t care.

all i care is that im about to go to bed and that a blonde girl wants me to talk dirty to her.

all i care is the day is done and i got to bowl again and i got to say hi to some nice people in the world and im one more day closer to something else.

and i really hope it really is something else.

georgy + crispy duck + toshi + at what cost

2002_05_26_blogarc.htm#77072931

karisa throws great parties… if you’re a girl.

she swears that she doesnt really have that many girl-friends in LA but i think she does that on purpose. most of the parties that she and her hot roommate throw are what are commonly referred to as sausage parties or sword fights. 500-600 guys trying to impress karisa and becca.

both gals sent out invites at their workplaces, but of course, only the fellas attended. many of them recognized my name and said they read this blog, and for those lads, i say hello, and nice to have met you.

the only fight that i got into yesterday was with an insect and i barely won.

i got stung by a bee!

it was my first time ever.

i felt an itchy thing on my back and i reached for it and i felt a little sting and i saw the bee fly over my head and try to attack karisa. i said, “i think i just got stung by that bee.”

basart investigated and sure enough, bee sting.

i kept drinking my beer and looking at karisa.

im agent feels no pain, remember.

ken told her to get the tweezers.

there was much discussion about how to pull out the stinger without making the thing spread. i dont know what thing they were talking about, but basart is an expert at everything and this was one of the few times that it actually came in handy.

i drank more beer.

ken put an ice cube on the sting.

karisa quickly showed up with the tweezers and pulled it out painlessly.

i drank more beer.

she sat back down.

i looked at her some more.

no pain.

then ken saw the bee again, swatted it down fearlessly since it no longer had a stinger.

then he stepped on it.

when they all asked how i felt, i said, “a little buzzed.”

totally awesome + d-lo + steve

fuck bob hope.

i dont want to go to work today.

it’s a gorgeous day today. i had a great night last night.

i talked to this sexy girl last night who told me some interesting things that went down the last time we were together.

this fuzzy memory that i have is pretty interesting.

what i would like to do is be in a situation where i could tell the truth on this blog because i seriously do have an interesting life and it would be nice to be able to document some of it.

for example when i went shopping last night with anna i forgot to tell you that she was wearing what howard stern calls a bippie top, and low rider jeans and heels.

all the mexican men at the grocery store were checking her out. the married men too. it was cool.

i would have liked to take some pictures of the fellas with their wandering eyes.

and thats just grocery shopping.

imagine if i could show you some of the other things that happen in my day. the real things.

for some reason people tell me the wildest stories, and show me the coolest things, and get me involved in wild situations.

more wild than i want a lot of the times, but wild enough to make for interesting blog fodder.

yesterday my neighbors caught me out on my front porch. i am very shy around my neighbors. im sort of weird that way. i like to give my neighbors their privacy so i just say hi a lot but dont engage them in massive conversations.

last night two of them wanted to talk and talk which was nice, especially since i wanted to feel them out so to speak on if they were pissed about last week’s fiesta.

one of the women said they didnt even know i had a damn party which is completely sweet.

tsar is playing on friday. i want to ask this hot girl at work to come.

i will ask this hot girl at work to come.

i hope she comes.

happy birthday bob hope. i cant remember one thing funny youve ever said, but i appreciate the fact that you traveled the world with hot chicks.

and you understood the american spirit of being on the road and cracking jokes along the way.

lemon odor thinks im a genius + bunnie thinks im a poet + dc thinks im his hero