today

lest anyone think that i would defoul my beautiful wife’s ass with my special purpose, let it be known that when i talk about the beautiful love that i make on this blog, im never talking about the intimate details between myself and my betroved.

moxie and i have a little arrangement. yes shes my wife, but only in the marital sense. i dont tell her what to do with her body and she doesnt tell me what to do with mine. our only deal is that we’ll be safe and not bring anything back to the homestead.

the relations that i have with my love is caring and loving and beautiful. what i do outside the home, however, well, thats usually the stuff that i would never do with the woman who will one day bear my children.

thats how they do it in europe, and thats how we agreed it will be done here.

other similarities: we drink a lot of wine, take long naps, and go on strike as much as possible during the summer months.

right now im in a new girls apartment. i cant really remember what we did last night in much detail but i know she ordered pasta at 1am from a place called berries. we were watching the Restaurant, that stupid reality docudrama about that jimmy fallon lookalike rocco someone who has a restaurant and always screws it up.

she was smoking some jamacian shit and suddenly got the munchies and dialed information and then the transfered her over to berries and bam within minutes she had rigattoni and meatballs.

she ate so much so fast she had to puke. and i was all so thats how all you west hollywood girls stay so thin. and she was all shut up and jumped on me after brushing her teeth and within minutes we were asleep.

so now im listening to the pixies trying to write to you from her lil laptop. its a powerbook something. i cannot repeat how disappointed i am in the good people of apple for not having the right click button. fucking apple invented the mouse, why are they trying to keep it real by keeping the right click button away from their loyal users?

im listening to the pixies in minnesota 4/13/04 which i see is being sold on ebay for $61. am i a prick if i burned a copy to sell it on ebay? for some reason i think i am. but the pixies arent going to sell that thing any time soon, are they? shit i dont know. i know if i had a band id have a huge tip jar on stage that said “give us 50% of all the shit you stole from us. or give us 100% of all tips youd like to give us.”

shes got blue eyes and soft thighs. little plastic cups cuz she doesnt like cleaning up. the meatballs last night had a little bread in the middle of it and it reminded me of chicago. i brought my tivo over and we were watching the mclaughlin group and a cubs game and old videos and some woddy allen.

so now im typing you and ignoring the typos because a guy she likes might call her to go to breakfast, and the best part about having a wife is i dont care if she has breakfast with this fool or not. and because i dont give a fuck she wants me even more. now shes saying shes hot and she is hot. she says no its fucking hot in herre and i say turn on that ceiling fan and she says she cant cuz shes allergic to dust and theres probably an inch of winter dust on there that shes got to wait for her lady to come over and dust before she even can think about that ceiling fan.

and shes gone through four or five costume changes. from jeans and a sleeveless shirt to a cord skirt and a one armed shirt to a bikini top and a flowery skirt. it just keeps getting hotter as we approach noon and so does she.

now its fatboy slim on her itunes “10th and Crenshaw”. if it wasnt for girls i wouldnt listen to half the muysic i end up listening to. now she wants to eat with me. i teller to wait for her man. she says hes not gonna call. i say wait. she says shes hungry. i say you ate all that pasta lasta nighta. she said uh … remember. and i was all, oh yeah….

i just asked her to chill for a minute while i finish this and she said want some oj and i said oh yeah, yes! and she brought one up in another plastic cup but she added a splash of vodka and when i turned around to say thanks i saw that she had made a fourth costume change. a catholic girl skirt with a tshirt that said do me.

seacrest out.

ciavarro + the holy writer + wren + just a girl

hi tony pierce. i mean leave me alone sir, i dont speak english.

oh come on bro. its me. tony.

i know, i just cant talk to you, we’re still celebrating my 5 year anniversary from when i was returned to cuba.

are people treating you well there?

of course, im a fucking star.

why do they have you dressed up like a campfire girl then?

dude its not the campfire girls, its traditional commie kiddie wear. they stole that shit from us.

looks gay. just sayin.

shut up.

so how they treating you down there?

like a damn king.

king?

ok, like a prince.

anything you want you just snap your fingers?

i just think about snapping my fingers and i get it.

think of something.

ok im thinking about having a nice tall glass of rum and a half of a coconut.

what happened?

it didnt arrive.

ha ha.

now im thinking about executing the person whose job it is to read my mind.

uh oh.

yeah tony, shit down here runs smoothly cuz everyone knows their place. its one of the best parts of communism.

i always thought the best part of communism was never having to keep up with the gonzalezes

that too.

ok elian, im glad youre doing ok and everythings cool.

yeah its pretty cool. they say when fidel dies i might end up running this piece.

just remember your old buddy tone when you let major league baseball expand into havana.

will do, g.

sk smith + raymi + alecia + golden fiddle

in the middle and slightly to the left.

red car parked right in front.

that was my house on 6850 del playa in isla vista. junior year.

greatest house i will ever live in and it wasnt even the best one on the block. that award goes to the professor who lived two houses over and one closer to the beach.

his was all glass with concrete addendums.

a hot chick drove over today to take me to the coin laundry.

i have to keep remembering that the good Lord doesnt want us to just live on dp once in our lives and then look back longingly, He wants us to keep kicking ass, and not someone elses dreams of beverly hills and runaway norweigan twins.

He wants us to say shit i didnt even know this dream existed

hawaiian so shes got nice lips.

but the last time i saw her i had all that stubble and shes a sensitive little pomme frite so today i see ive made her break out and she wouldnt let me kisser even though id shaved my whole damn head off

so i nuzzled my cheek up against hers real good like

made sure to let her know that someone had a banana in their pants and i was pleased to meet me.

6850 is a little less than a mile from campus.

in those days i skateboarded everywhere. but the thing about isla vista is a mile skate through town is dangerous on so many levels. obstacles like the burnt couches and lazyboychairs and bottles and passed out people

but there were also distractions like freshly tapped kegs, half built half pipes, two story bongs, the beach, the blondes, the burritos.

so when i lived on dp i rode my bike alot.

once upon a time when i lived on 6850 dp i went to bed listening to the pacific outside my window and some nights i would say my prayers right there in bed because i had sometimes found myself passed next to the bed because i had called it a night right there while praying.

i make sure to thank Him and back then that could go on for a while.

just like it will tonight.

daily nexus + isla vista history + ivtv