when the bad guys just lay on the curb waiting to die, as blood drains between the grates in the sewers and little kids cry

i sit on the bumper of an undercover smoking the remains of a marlboro 100 and i wonder when mi vida loca will be over and not so loca.

im always feeling like im wasting my life, like im blowing some great shot at something big. i see those guys at google, how young they are, how super rica theyre about to be. i wonder what they will do with that power.

if i was a billionaire i know straight up what id do after buying the cubs and tearing down the lights of wrigley, i’d fucking retire. i wouldnt do shit. and i know thats why the lord hasnt given me my financial freedom.

i watch the olympics and i see everyone swimming and i wanna swim. i wanna go to greece where no one is and i wanna do the breast stroke. i wanna lose to puerto rico.

i see kids coming home from school and i say hey why are you in school its august and the kids go si and i go but porque and they go its year round school mister and i go when the fuck did i become a mister.

and i see my belly and i know the answer to that one.

and the gray nostril hairs and the gray nut hairs and the gray chest hairs.

sometimes i wonder what this blogd be like if i had gotten a job with the la times back in the day when they shoulda hired me when i was coming straight outta iv. i wonder if i would be playing the dumb game today of trying to prove that the president is a fucking retard to a group of people who will never admit that the president is a fucking retard.

ever.

the same people who are all, but kerry thought he was in cambodia and he was still in Nam! but kerry took his medals and threw them away. but kerry is a flip flopper.

first flip flopper i ever met was your momma i wanna tell em. she was laying there on my waterbed smiling and i said flip that fat ass over so i can see it.

yeah im glad i was never an la timeser cuz i wouldnt be able to keep it real for your asses and even the naysayers secretly want me to keep it real.

so real it’ll be kept.

splinky asked me in an email about danielle and i was all, shes just a girl who i work with, and danielle read it and huffed off in a huff.

i saw her at the flowerstand during lunch and i was all youre a sagitarrius, thats the wrong sign baby. and she violently ripped the leaves from the stems of the tulips.

1908 she kept mumbling. i was all what? she said it louder

nine teen ooooooooh eight! cuz she knew that was the only way she could get to me.

i said keep it up, its one reason i hate san diego and hope it burns in a terrible fire and that causes an earthquake slash tsunami and it all falls into the ocean.

she was all what does 1908 have to do with san diego? i was like san diego in 1984 got in the way of the cubs and for that i will never forgive them until they apologize like crazy.

she was all, youre loco.

i was all so.

then we took pictures and she said ok are we cool then and i said yeah.

and she said are you gonna visit me down in the valley. and i was like no.

and she was all are you gonna visit me. and i was all maybe.

and she was all are you going to be my friend and take the train and visit me.

and i said can we go to mexico and she said si.

so i said si too.

– from the busblog a year ago yesterday on danielles last day at the xbi

the busblog was pretty good that week + keeping it real + sanity adrift