picasso had his blue period, brahms had his flute period

perhaps the busblog should go super dark in 2017

these tv serieses say they can only do five seasons and thats a load

we can do whatever we want. hasnt trump howard stern dylan the kardashians

and every single cat

taught you by now that rules are fer fools

heres my process to creating a busblog post

inspired by an image

tamp down the sadness/anger/fear/hatered/love

squoosh it into the size of a raisin

eat said fruit

before it’s swallowed, finish the post

and you better not have written about the inspiration

or yr a dirty cheater.

dont fight it.

theres nothing to fight.

there will be a time to fight things.

but most of the time the lesson is, how can i work this?

how can i improvise while going with the flow?

how can i adjust?

today there was a bomb scare or a real bomb at that big white building right there at the corner of Wilshire and San Vincente across from where i did lifespring way back in the day.

back when i was a lad i got my French visa from the embassy near there. i met a girl a few blocks from there who rode me around her moped and kissed me overlooking the valley.

one thing led to another and she told me to hit her. i said what? she said dont stop feeling me up, but with your other hand slap me. it turns me on. so i slapped her. she said harder. i said come on. she said no you come on. hit me bitch.

she had the sweetest voice and behind all the make up and punk rock clothes and attitude and book smarts she was one of the softest creatures ive ever been close to. it was impossible for me to hit her. so i just knocked over her scooter right there on mulholland.

well that was dumb, she complained.

so was taking wilshire this morning, i want to tell her.

will i write about my friends’ amazing Christmas Tree Trimming party?

yes.

will i write about the hot selfies i get on my phone?

no.

will i write about how we are all doomed and the only way to fight it is to give in, to buy Russian jackets and war hats

and start reading Tolstoy and the others.

da!

but what i really want to know is when did girls start getting all the cool clothes?

we all started in the garden of eden with giant fig leaves to cover our naughty bits, how come the ladies ended up with all the cool fashions and we ended up with the same old?

maybe we’d like pants that hug our curves and have faces of dead aliens on them

maybe we want high heeled boots

do you know how many women on Bumble are all omg im a CEO and im 5-11 whoops!

maybe that wouldnt matter if dudes wore super awesome shoes with giant heels like KISS

im listening to a country singer belt out a cover of “In Bloom” and im pretty sure this is the music that will be playing after i die

and my soul floats up to Heaven where it will be judged and St. Peter will be all

Anthony?

it’s only bad news if they call you by your slave name.

which reminds me im thinking about changing my cell phone number because i get telemarketers at least once a day.

robocalls really. not even people. who start off with Anthony, would you like to refinance your credit cards?

never do they say Anthony would you like a clean bong? would you like a 6 foot blonde to wash yr dishes?

would you like to find out if you would save shit tons of money by cutting the cord

or growing your own sativa

or cooking your own rice

or only drinking water

or never having fun

or joining the army

or starting a church

or failing

or falling

or drowning

and stopping?

i wish i could just hold it all in and be cool

have a liscense plate that said

nbd

i wish i could write existential think pieces

or well reasoned treatises.

my treatises are so fucked up and twisted and gnarled and bitter and foulmouthed and rotten

i love this city and im always trying to run from it

when i read a book i’ll stop before its over

because i want some left over surprise of goodness

saving it for rainy day

but if ever there was a rainy day

i wish i liked todays sounds

and coffee

group activities

and wellness

herbal teas and balance.

drove these two kids from their homecoming dance at a hotel to a dennys on crenshaw, two black kids, adorable and smart. they asked me my age and gasped when i told them.

they asked but how

and i said, fast food and white girls

and sipped from the straw of my extra large coke.

is it a series of tubes?

is it a fancy house, a swappable wife, a six figure sports car in the garage

the ability to get on national television and lie and lie and lie during a job interview?

or is life about ignoring all the crazy bells and whistles

and realizing that the highest plane of human existence is helping others?

i was driving the kids around usc yesterday and i had this incredibly beautiful junior business major in my car

and she was super stressed out.

any time her phone alerted her that someone had just sent her a text message she quickly grabbed her phone

like it had just shocked her bare legs.

she told me that she was worried that soon she would have to try to find a job.

i said, “obama has fixed all that. a biz degree from SC pretty much guarantees that you’ll be hired right away.”

she said, “all obama has done is create blue collar jobs, though.”

i was like, “you wanna be VP of a company the year after you graduate?”

and she looked at me like i knew how to accomplish just that.

but when it dawned on her that it was rhetorical, she sullenly looked out the window

at the passing Chipotle

and sighed the sigh of a 19 year old

who will Never be able to afford those Louboutins.

like ever.

babies are selfish, their handwriting is horrible.

they vomit, they babble, they arent very good drivers

i dont like the way they look at you when they smile because you know at any minute they could start frowning and then give you the stink eye

they love the most basic books, their artwork is subpar.

and ive seen what they do to families.

once i was playing poker with a baby and it started losing so it started cheating and i was all what the fuck do you think you’re doing over there

and it said why dont you mind your own damn business

and i said this game IS my business

so it said maybe youd like to take this outside.

i said ID VERY MUCH LIKE TO TAKE THIS OUT SIDE.

so we went outside and i took off my glasses and my jacket

and that baby pulled out A DAMN KNIFE!

fortunately i had my own knife.

so we were circling each other and this baby was hissing at me

i was all, im gonna get you, im gonna slice you up!

a little crowd began to form. some people were taking bets. weirdly i was not the favorite.

i was all, who has a stinky diaper? YOU have a stinky diaper!

and the baby just kept hissing at me like a freak!

then it launched at me. it just flew right in my face. then it was on me. quicker than i expected.

it was all over me. stabbing. punching. drooling. omg how does one little creature have so much drool?

and i couldnt get a good angle.

all i saw was spittle and half chewed Cheerios and the smell!

that baby smell (actually smelled pretty ok)

but still

and when the cops came guess who got thrown in the back of the car like an animal.

not the baby, i’ll tell you that.

fucker.

most of us wont be rock stars or baseball players, play by play announcers or heads of state

most of us wont be millionaires or international drug lords

hell, most of us would be so lucky to be local drug lords

most of us are just going to end up being sweet, loving, creative people, doomed to influence a small circle of friends, neighbors and family members

maybe coworkers, but probably not them, they’re busy crunching numbers and doing all the things they do

and most of the ways we can influence our small circles isn’t by doing anything outrageous other than being as wonderful as we can be

think about who influences you. it isn’t the guy with the biggest house or fanciest car or prettiest wife

what influences me are the people with the best attitudes and brightest smiles during the gloomiest days.

how do they keep their positive attitudes, i wonder, how do they find the energy to work tirelessly, listen to how they interact with dale from accounting or merle from the mailroom. it sounds exactly how when they speak to the ceo or that mean girl from — where does that girl work anyway?

im influenced by steady writers and cheerful cooks, people who raise their kids right, people who do their best to help the public. it’s rarely the jokers who end up on E! or accumulating a zillion followers on instagram.

weirdly the people who i love the most have very little time for instagram,

they’re too busy being international love smugglers.

sharing their houses with others, working at soup kitchens, fixing friends’ computers, coaching little league, teaching at the school, fighting fires, writing books, helping kids with their homework for hours,

showing people things at the library that will make them literally cry out loud

you see those people all the time.

they’ll never get on a baseball card.

til Heaven.

i had a dream last night that when you get to the pearly gates, st. peter is flipping through his new pack of cards and right in front of you he says um hum, yep, yep, oh here you are, and he hands you your card and it’s you doing what God loved best and your name is there

and when you flip it over, theres your stats. all the good youve done. all the ways youve reflected love and peace and you know positive things humans are capable of doing when they’re being awesome

and you show that to the angel and

up

you

go

the past tells me what i did where i was what went wrong what went right

the future is just a day dream a promise a dream a lie a fantasy a mirage

in the past we were laying by a pool holding hands drinking drinks laughing

and laughing and laughing and then

back in the room we made the world spin around us

french doors opened to the sun as if to say look

look

look all you angels

this is what its all about

and afterwards we stared at the ceiling goofy faces on our smiles

and talked about tomorrow

which was just a daydream a promise a dream a lie a fantasy a mirage

well intentioned but false because the only person who can predict the future

are the worms

at the cemetery

who dont know the exact date

but know dinners coming

so they wait

dont you?

i wanna try and experiment and work

and create and push limits and inspire

and figure shit out and rock rock

till we all die.

i had lunch with a pretty girl the other day who said she started working for this place a few months ago and

she’s pretty fancy so they promised her all these things if she worked there

but then her boss’s boss took off and was replaced by this new boss

and that boss would say that she was super punk rock and experimental

but it turned out she was just the opposite

more like a country line dance.

everything had to be exactly the same as it was before and everyone had to do it

and this boss was super awkward to talk with even thought she said

you know karen i have an open door policy

which shoulda been a red flag right away because thats like if you have a girlfriend

and she says, you know tony, i would never cheat on you

with two guys behind a 7-11

on a sunday night

when you are at home reading the bible

even if we just had a fight and id always dreamt of

doing it in the back seat

of an El Camino on an unusually warm spring night

in the valley.