my man

robert has a few good questions that need to be answered ASAP.

the first being would you lay out a few hundred bucks to see the Rolling Stones play?

the answer depends on if you’ve seen them already.

i have had the great fortune of seeing the living legends a few times. the first being at the LA Collesium when Living Color and Guns and Roses opened up for them.

“Appetite for Destruction” had been out a year and was everyone’s favorite album and we walked through south central LA thinking “the Stones are going to get their ass beat.”

as i get older, i start to realize that experience has a few things going for it.

the Guns and Roses were infighting, unfocused, at the mercy of heroin, scattered, doubting, tangled up with girls, drunk with success, living up to their album title.

they went limp about ten minutes into the show. total disaster.

The LA Collesium is like a big angry ugly hole when it comes to music. It owns you. The front row is miles away and cute little smirks dont cut it. You need a machette the size of montana to cut through the emptiness. you need a road map to reach the hearts of the kids. This was a place that was built best for monster truck races, and for having the Pope speak. not for music. the echos themselves are something to contend with, never mind your wasted lead guitar player.

The Stones, meanwhile had spent their whole lives playing impossible venues like this. Last time they were there a guy named Prince opened for them and had bottles thrown at him and got booed off the stage.

As a unit the Rolling Stones took the stage that summer of 1988 like five sailors back from a long journey entering a whore house with a bag of condoms in one hand and a bucket of $20s in the other. They sized up the situation in about two minutes, spread out, and rocked the living shit out of anything that moved.

they were sticky they were sweet they were even psychedelic to remind us that they didnt just come from another country, but from another time entirely, a better time where you either master your surroundings or be a victim to them.

they rocked for two hours, took a polite break and got the rest of their ya yas out.

ok, that was then.

now, theyre one old guy on drums, a wastoid on guitar, and a complete mad man on the mic. they still rock better than 95% of the shows that you’ll go to this year, and you’ll know a majority of the songs and its super good to hear those played live. but there is little chance of magic.

so i say if you have never seen them before, go. do go. spend the money. they deserve it.

if you have seen them play, do like i am doing, hold out to see if someone has an extra ticket and will buy you a beer if you go with them.

$200 buys a bunch of lapdances.

as for your other questions, nothing in here is being written by me right now. i have the summer interns here for three more weeks then i have to do this shit myself.

i just draw the outlines and they fill in the blanks.

see you at subway!

peace out to my man Ric at Bitchen for the $3. and TPB at unbillable hours who busted with the Fiver. thats a beer! and thats all i ask. rock on, bros.

Oish fans,

is there any end to you?

im amazed.

the cam girl popularity is just really tremendous. wanna see what she has done to my front page? check out my stats, these are live.

Oish is an 18 yr old girl named Teresa who does not get naked, who does not talk dirty, who says hehe after each sentence. not p0rn, not dirty, if anything, cute. cute as a button. and im not saying i know who her fans are, but shes got lots of them, and they all want to see bigger versions of her pictures.

and im sure they dont wanna see me.

who knows, maybe they do.


oish does like the taste of her fingers, i have noticed that. maybe shes just touching an owie.

what else is fascinating is that Chuck from LA flowed me thirty three cents via paypal. sad thing is is that paypal takes thirty one cents out of the first dollar, which means i got a total of two cents from chuch. which might be all he really wanted to send my way anyhow.

regardless, i appreciate the flowage, chuck. thanks for getting that spare change off the floorboard of your truck.

also much thanks to Dan who busted with the five bones. danka!

looks like im being suckered into going to the Dodger game tonight, which im resisting since theyre just gonna strike in two days. but its with good friends, and i told you yesterday that i dont want to blow them off much any more.

so basart, drop two tickets in my mail box, or prepare to pick me plus one up at my house at 6:45.

communicating through a blog.

wasnt that the point of all this?

will i be escorting Oish?

tune in tomorrow and find out.

she was twenty six

life is like riding a bicycleeducated, funny, well spoken, perfect body, perfect lips, very little makeup, just a hint of perfume,

couldn’t figure out what brand.

hottest cab driver i had ever had the pleasure

thought for a moment that it might be a set up.

after a minute didn’t care if it was.

“what do you like in a woman?” she asked after i gave her my address and she raised an eyebrow. the bars had closed hours ago, even the rats had called it a night. street cleaners were waking the bums.

false dawn brought out premature chirps from the sparrows in the palm trees and the traffic lights just flashed red black red black



the streets were wet and shiny like a movie directed by that guy who did top gun. so many people take the freeways in la at all hours, why wasn’t anyone on vermont i thought and then couldn’t think, the whole thing was spinning, and not in a good way.

i could feel every bump and there were bunch.

popped some tylenol. didn’t have anything to wash it down with, didn’t matter, the saliva was filling my throat.

the wet carpet was being rolled out for the puke, but i just had some mighty good steaks that i wasn’t about to revisit so i thought of better things.

ice cream.

one summer i was an icecream man in the suburbs of chicago.

i was in love with a girl named tracy degrazia.

her boyfriend was named george.

i realized i wasn’t thinking these thoughts but i was telling the beautiful cab driver.

i must be drunk, i don’t tell people the truth.

“what made you love her?”

it was love at first sight. first time that ever happened to me. we were on a bus going to iowa to visit a school out there where they only make you take one class a month. really small school. really long bus ride. really terrific girl.

smelled like baby powder.

mcdonalds drive thru claiming to be open twenty four hours made me curious. perhaps one of those new fancy shakes would help.

can i get you a cup of coffee, or a shake, i asked my cab driver.

i would love a cup of coffee.

do you really live where im taking you?

strangely the drive through was indeed open. the tylenol was kicking in. bless you tylenol three.

the lady spoke spanish. the cab driver goddess spoke spanish right back.

where did you learn that? i asked.


sometimes everything makes sense and then it all falls apart again like those bridges you make with folded notebook paper in sixth grade science class or how you can lift people by just using your fingers in a seance, or how a 757 can take off from a runway and fly through the friendly skies

and before i knew it i was barfing all over the bullhorn squawk box of the drive through laughing and messing up my green suede low top pumas whose swoosh had been made from the remnants of a leather gucci purse. guess you’d have to see it.

was handed a paper towel, wiped off, fell back in the cab.

laughed, god did i laugh.

pulled forward to the second window.

received my mcflurry.

somehow made it home, once again,


today this busblog will get more hits than ever before

this is because i have links from the most popular cam girl in the west, Oish, the king of the blog world, Instapundit, and the tag team of love Ken and Matt.

my question isn’t which group will flow the most fundage to the busblog, for i fear none of them will.

far too educated, learned and jaded, they’re so not interested in the frivolity of the cheap thrill.

these are people who just click whatever links these great writers html out for them, they’ll read the little peice and then go on with their lives of changing the world in beautiful little ways, failing to see that if each of them stoked the blog a mere $2, the lives of an afroed young man would change oh so much.

i have a goal, dear visitors. a silly one. but it’s mine. its a goal to get $1,000 from strangers via my blog.

a handout? no. an art project gone terribly wrong? perhaps. socialism in motion? socialism has never been in motion, dont flatter yourselves.

panhandling? please.

being 108 years old most of my goals have been reached and were attained a long long time ago.

caught a foul ball at a major league baseball game when i was 18, had the best sex of my life when i was 35, made out with three girls at once when i was 25, truly satisfied a woman when i was 55.

have i lived a good life? one that i could rationalize writing about in a daily way? i guess. but probably not.

ive watched too much tv. i smoked too much, drank too much soda, chased the wrong women, voted for the wrong men. fought the wrong fights, gave up driving cars entirely too late. i stayed on too long at jobs that didnt want me, didnt spend enough time with my real friends, only read the bible a dozen times, didnt floss enough, didnt rent enough porn. only wrote a thousand poems.

but one thing i feel good about is that i always asked for the sale.

if there was a pretty girl who was kissable and should have been kissed and could have been kissed, i went for it.

not in a nasty way or uncomfortable manner or in a needy way, or as a dare. but in the way that should be done. spontaneously.

as i while away my days here in this rockingchair stolen during a midnight heist of the Goodwill, santa monica, typing my memoirs on this little gateway notebook, when i want to avoid the arthritic pain of old age, the things that bring smiles to these wrinkled cheeks are the memories of backsteats and couches, doorways and streetlights.

nothing has brought more life to these bones than a good night kiss after a good date with a good girl.

a b c always be closing, it took me a long time to learn what that was all about, but the reward justifies the effort, and the experience is the prize. sexual tension and nervousness and butterflies and racing hearts are better than any drug or alcohol or summer blockbuster movie or amusement park thrill ride and it’s all natural and primal and magical and fleeting.

it’s what dreams are made of, when its with the right woman.

and it’s what life is all about if she accepts your humble offer.

now if you would be so kind, gentle strangers, click these words right here

and make your little heart race.