last night i realized

that my first favorite nba star was a Net.

that’s right, the good doctor, Julius Erving, only played three seasons with the ABA’s new york nets, but managed to average a double-double or some shit.

but dont ask me, apparently my sports memories are as fuzzy as my ‘fro since i f’ed up on the may 17 cubs/phillies 23-22 game, as pointed out, very politely by baseball news (scroll down to yesterday’s deal.)

all i know is dr. j was a favorite of mine back when jason kidd was just a kid.

lakers in three.

today is michele’s 25th birthday!

happy birthday sweet naturegirl from malibu.

people ask me all the time how all my old girlfriends seem so young and never age. and i dont know how to answer that, cuz its a mystery to me too.

perhaps it’s because the Good Lord is sad for me that i cant find a regular girlfriend so he sends down angels to hang out with me so i dont walk around all lonely and depressed all the time.

michele called me a few months back and we talked for a little while. it was the first time we had talked in a long long time, and it was nice, and she told me that she had kids and was teaching and living in the woods with her husband and she was writing childrens books.

i wanted to tell her that childrens books have completely influenced my photo essays, but she would never believe it.

it took a lot for her to believe that she had inspired me to not only write poetry but to get into journalism, two things that she kicked ass at way before i even considered trying myself.

the other day i was driving through malibu with a dear friend and i asked if we could wander off the pch and see the house where michele grew up at, and she obliged and i found the house no problem even though much of zuma has developed.

i will never forget the three years that i was with that girl, it was an adventure of the mind, spirit, and soul. trust me. we listened to records. we hung out with her brothers and her mom and their dogs, we just hung out.

i dont know how to explain it to you, other than to say that when i think about being 20 years old, i think of being with this wildly idealistic punk rock hippie blue eyed irish native southern californian who was equal parts everything.

absolute gemini.

one of several angels that the lord graciously pitied me with.

last night was beautiful

finally summer has come to los angeles, finally i could open up the french doors in the sitting room and let the cool breeze from the veranda ease into the master bedroom.

woke up at sunrise and soaked in the tub listening to the green album, sampling the new flavor of cap’n crunch (chocolate donuts) and read the new playboy.

strolled down to the subway station, rode it to wilshire vermont and the connecting train wasnt there so i walked the stairs up to the surface to see my newly restored escalator and there it was working right, all happy. strangely all the other escalators were stopped. at the bottom of each escalator there is a latch that has a key hole which i assume can only be opened with a key, but the latches from all the stopped escalators were opened– something seems fishy.

if the mta is trying to save money by intentionally stopping escalators, they should find new ways for revenue, because at 8am, many of the people who are using these escalators are not as fit as me, and im 108 years old.

and i could kick your ass.

shaq kicked some ass last night, and it looks like my predicted sweep will come easier than originally stated. the nets looked like a bunch of ugly girls out there. the lakers looked like a bunch of guys who had just climbed mt. everest and were now snowboarding down the other side.

did i see slava medvedenko getting in on the action last night?

yeah, the nets are history.

i guess the real finals were held in sacto last week.

so i take the bus down wilshire and there seems to be a lot of traffic on wilshire this morning and i wondered why all the cars dont go around the traffic by using side streets but then i remember that people are idiots in the morning which is why Rick Dees has been able to be gainfully employed for the last quarter century.

as we approach the offending traffic clogger, we see that its because there is a convoy of dump trucks in the far right lane. the lane that is supposed to be clear during rush hour traffic hours of 7-9 and 4-6. but someone has greased the palm of a city big wig and the dump trucks cause enough troubles that traffic is damn near stopped for a good two miles on the wilshire corridor just east of koreatown.

its a dump truck parade.

its a dump truck convention.

its a bunch of burley mexican guys in their dump trucks with their radios on listening to that ridiculous banda “music” drinking their coffee wondering which cowboy hat theyre going to wear to the taqueria after work.

already picked out which belt buckle.