raymi is coming to america

right when i take my vacation.

i wonder if we fall in love with each other.

i wonder if she will like my secret karoake style.

today a cute girl at work called me on the phone and we talked and talked and it was nice.

i wish you could have seen the clouds last night, raymi the minx.

los angeles does well when it has real weather.

it becomes dramatic and intense and then twenty four hours later it becomes clean and clear and crisp and green.

and sunny.

what if she came down here, threw off her clothes and kicked her feet up, lit up a smoke, and just said f canada, and stayed right there on my leather couch asking out loud what she could do to make me love her.

and i would say, i couldnt love you more.

what if she came down here and said lets go to johnny rockets.

what if she came down here and just wanted to do shots, play gin rummy, and learn to master the hokie pokie.

i havent truly mastered jack in like decades.

raymi and i have one thing in common, we both attract people who feel inclined to say mean things about us on their blogs.

if you arent getting a little backlash, youre not on the right path.

if people are talking about you, not everyone is going to be sweet. if no one isnt talking shit about you, odds are no one is talking about you.

and if no one is talking about you, youre probably being dull.

the worst thing they could do is ignore you.

therefore backlash, my love, is your friend.

<3 raymi <3

this guy gets to build the tallest building in the world

what do you get to do?

how are your dreams coming?

are you kissing the girls you wanna kiss?

are you better off this year than you were last year?

what are you doing to get what you want out of this giant twister game called life?

in the era of post napster file sharing, have you downloaded any good cds lately?

praying for peace any more?

know any good jokes?

signed any left handed pitchers this winter?

found any terrorists?

wrote any good posts?

told your mom you love her?

fight any crime?

lead by example?

completely rocked?

flowed someone you dont know?

done something scary?

saved the world?

execersized your heart?

laughed hysterically?

smelled a flower?

ate some pie?

wished you could die?

gave a high five?

rolled down a hill?

whispered something sweet?

ate way too much meat?

went on a date?

felt part of fate.

brutal news + mad pony

as you probably know, mr. rogers is dead.

even though he was super nice, and had that great smooth jazz going on in the background, i was always a little scared of mr. rogers.

nobody i ever knew talked like him. that slower, sharper, adult-talking-to-kids-speak.

the puppets scared me, his neighbors scared me.

everyone was just a little too happy, a little too old, and a little too peppy. as if mr. rogers’ neighborhood was the county seat of speed and everyone was in on it except for Lady Elaine.

his trolley was cool though.

i cant tell you why.

i cant remember one thing that mr. rogers taught me. i don’t remember him teaching the alphabet or numbers or geography. i don’t remember anything about him except the opening and the closing routine.

i suppose that means the show was successful.

i do remember a time that Stuttering John from the Howard Stern Show bum rushed a Mr. Rogers book signing and asked if he hated Barney.

without getting the least bit flustered, Mr. Rogers said, “no, I don’t hate Barney. Do you?”

it was a very sweet and slightly southern “you” that rose up and curled off like a trail of smoke from a doorway stick of incense.

i suppose i will miss Mr. Rogers. he seemed to be a genuine fellow. a minister, a jazz musician, a tv innovator and producer. far as i can tell he never really cashed in on his name or on the show, and i appreciate that.

i never saw a bunch of dolls or trains or tshirts with his logo on it. no coffee mugs. no mouse pads.

so adios, mister rogers. you were never my neighbor, but if you were i would have waved at you if you were watering your lawn, and ignored you just like i ignore my other neighbors.

which, i believe, is the best things neighbors can do for each other.

sk smith + amy + jeff jarvis

remind me never to talk to the press

especially the times.

i never sound right in sound bytes. i talk too fast. i talk too crazy. the best way to find out what i think is to chat with me in the IM like a few people did last night, including a young lady who showed me some nudes of herself.

eighteen. gorgeous. admitted that she had a crush on me.

the times said that i thought that Mark from Boing Boing was a nerd.

i dont remember saying that. if i did say it, i meant it in a nice way. for most of my life i’ve been around computer geniuses and sometimes i refer to them as nerdy, but as a synonym for brilliant.

i do remember saying that i was suprised how nervous he seemed. i do remember saying something along the lines that any guy who can launch boing boing, illustrate like this, and go back as far as the Well shouldnt be nervous about talking about blogs.

but whatever. if even the girls who get naked with me, and sleep with me for years on end misunderstand me, it makes sense that a stranger writing for the times would have a hard time with me, especially after i was flying off the buzz of that great panel discussion.

for the record, i was not suprised by how “down-to-earth” Doc Searls was, as i was quoted to say. i had met him once before and he was down-to-earth then, so i didnt expect anything different than what he is: your typical santa barbaran excellent soul living the good life that he deserves.

why must the Times torture me so.

i want to hate them but everyone i meet from there are so nice.

i want to fight against them but i want to work for them so badly. i want to write a blog for them. a blog that they would never do the way i want it, a blog that they would never let me write.

a blog that would have special guest stars like my pal karisa who would write about which bar she danced on top of on a wednesday night. special guest stars like shaq who loves technology and the web. special guest stars like courtney love, who is a los angelino, love it or not.

and then there would be me. commenting on the day to day life of la in a way that you all know i can. but moreso. if i had a car, a press pass, and access to places like staples center, the wiltern, and dodger stadium, the blog that i could write daily for the times would rival anything else that youve ever seen anywhere.

and unlike this page, everything would be true.

mr rogers died yesterday.

and i did think that ev was way cooler than i expected.


evhead is back

last night saddam said he wanted

to have a conversation with george bush.

where im from we would have said that bush was “called out.”

from what i got from saddam’s interview with dan rather on “60 Minutes II” last night, saddam seems to think that if he could work out a “debate” live, unedited, via satalite, he could convince the world that the US is wrong about Iraq. but what he was really saying is George Bush is a liar, and too damn dumb to be able to have a simple conversation about why Iraq shouldnt be bombed to hell.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: If– the American people– would like to know the facts for what they are, or as they are, through a direct dialogue, then I am ready to conduct a direct dialogue with the President of the United States, President Bush, on television. I will say whatever I have to say– about American policy. He will have– the opportunity to say whatever he has to say about policy of Iraq. And this will be in front of all people, and– on television, in a direct�uncensored � hon – honest manner. In front of, as I said, everyone.

And then they will see what the facts are, and where falsehoods are. And I would not object to see this dialogue conducted on– by– by Mr. (UNINTEL).

Rather: Are you speaking about a debate?

This – this is new. You– you are suggesting, you are saying, that you are willing, you are suggesting, you’re urging a debate with President Bush? On television?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: Yes. That’s my proposal.

Rather: Well, that’s an interesting…

This is not a joke.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: No, this is something proposed in earnest. This is proposed out of my respect for the public opinion of the United States. And it is out of my respect to the people of the United States. And to the people of Iraq. And in– out of my respect to mankind in general. Humanity at large. I call for this, because war itself is not a joke. Whoever chooses war as the first choice in his life, then he is not a normal person. I think the – the debates would be an opportunity for us to insure peace and safety.

where i come from, if some dude says that your choices are not ones of “a normal person,” thats called a dis.

right there saddam dissed the president of the united states and a lot of its citizens.

but in a twisted way, he’d doing the perfect thing. he knows he cant win any war against the US. but he’s gambling that GWBush live isnt smart enough to substantiate this war. i think it’s beautiful because i dont trust either of these men. but who wouldnt want such a debate on live tv? and why on earth wouldnt the US want the opportunity to state their case verbally, show proof, and then follow it up with force?

60 Minutes II reported that White House officials dismissed Saddam’s offer, saying Saddam wasnt serious.

Rather: Mr. President, where would this debate take place, that you imagine– what would be the venue?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: It will be in a place, as President of the United States, and Saddam Hussein will be in a place as President of Iraq. And then the debate can be conducted through satellite.

Rather: Oh. So, a satellite television debate. Live.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: And if Mr. Bush has another proposal, a counterproposal with the same basic idea then we’re prepared to listen to such a proposal.

Rather: Would you be prepared to come to the United Nations for this debate?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: The basic thing is that as far as debate to be heard in the natural, normal– in a (UNINTEL) accurate manner. In the United Nations, voices are not heard. Not always. And I do not mean that I go and I make a speech at the United Nations and then that Bush will make his speech at the United Nations. That is not what I mean. What I mean is that we sit– as we are sitting, you and I, now as– Here is– I will address questions to him and he will address questions to me. The position of Iraq and he will – the position of the United States.

He will explain why � �I will (UNINTEL) go to war.� I will explain why we are insistent on peace and we want to maintain peace.

Sounds good to me.

I dont see what would be so bad about seeing what the two leaders have to say to each other. Saddam said a lot of stupid things, like maintaining that he was elected by a majority, and when he said that Iraq didnt lose the Gulf War. Why’s Bush afraid that Saddam wouldnt be equally foolish on live tv?

Maybe it’s because GW knows that he has everything to lose by going on tv against Saddam, and nothing to lose if he just bombs the f out of Iraq.

It’s not like Bush is gonna get re-elected or anything.

the full transcript

i fuck up at work all the time

sometimes i’ll shoot the wrong bad guy, or smack some motherfucker in the head before reading him his rights. little things. civil rights, human rights, blah blah blah. but im serious, most of these people are the scummiest scumdogs of the universe, people that even i have a hard time finding good in.

some of the bad guys are actually sorta clever. or they are fearless. or they are innovative. but very few of them are. the smart ones i like to shoot “by accident” just to balance everything out. it’s what got me booted from the bureau. i tried to explain that they do that in bullfighting but noone would listen. maybe it was because i was cleaning my gun while i was explaining.

see, in bullfighting they get a guy on a horse to stab the bulls in the shoulders to weak it. then the bullfighter comes out with his gay little pink satin muleta and everything is sorta even. sorta.

anyhow, i like to make things even. the xbi are the equalizers in the whole grand scheme of things. we are the horses and the picadors and the swords. but sometimes we butcher that fucking beast before the matadors can get to them. the bureau and the cops and the justice department don’t like that, but you know what? they have learned to deal.

i bring this all up because some joker thought it was a good idea to take chopper one up last night without my knowledge for “training.” of course everything was approved, behind my back. and this morning i arrived and everyone said that it was decided that someone else should be just as trained as i am in case i got sick or went on vacation.

they said that they didnt tell me because they knew that i would get upset.

like im not more upset now.

some people, i swear.

anyhow, junior took out a building by accident as he was landing. and it wasn’t just any old building, he took out a big chunk of a hospital.

turns out he was working on his landings on the top of the children’s hospital’s helipad and accidently shot off one of the larger rockets thinking it was something else.

lucky for him the building that he hit across the street, kaiser hospital, was red flagged for demolition as they continue their expansion. but still.

i told the people responsible that i understood that chopper one isn’t mine, even if i act like it is, and even though its a black copter and super easy to fly, and comes with a team and is super hard to crash, it’s not accident proof, and it’s not really like any other bird, and it’s computer is a little psycho since everyone keeps trying to make it a “thinking” computer.

i told them that if they want me to train people i would be happy to, but let me pick the people because you cant be some fucking straight edge dude who’s all perfect all the time because this isn’t any straight edge machine. it fits well with the quirky qids, so don’t fight it.

everyone fights everything, unfortunately and even though i emailed them a list of five people who i would be happy to train, i haven’t gotten any emails back which mean they’re probably still trying to figure out how to get junior back in my seat even though i have never fucked up that bad, ever, not in a million years.

and sometimes i just think they don’t like me cuz i don’t wear abercrombie.

even though i sometimes do undercover. but please don’t tell anybody.

oish + nay + chelle

ive been asked for my autograph a few times

that always makes me happy. when we were watching “catch me if you can” we cracked up when kids were asking pilots for their autographs.

my first autograph was of bill buckner the year that he got traded from the dodgers to the Cubs.

after that i was hooked and i would get lots of athlete’s autographs, and then sometime in college i thought that i had all these signatures of all these people who i didn’t know, but i didn’t have any of the people who i knew, and loved.

so i got a baseball and had all of my exgirlfriends sign it for me.

eventually it ended up being all the girls i had sex with, which wasn’t the plan, but it was sorta the same theme.

the idea was that on a dreary day where i was feeling low i could look at that ball and think, “hmmm, these people actually loved me for at least a little while.”

even though ive done a pretty good job of maintaining that baseball i don’t really look at that baseball the same way any more.

some of the names make me wince, some of them make me really happy. some of them make me wonder how i ever got *that* girl to sign it. and a few of the names are now fading.

but the ball has sorta helped calm me down a little. you really don’t want names on there that you will wince at in the future. you rally don’t want names of people who you barely know. you really want names of people who are super special so that when you see the autograph it will spark a memory and you will think nice things, not sad things or icky things.

one girl wasn’t really my girlfriend, but it was pretty hot sex. so i let her sign her own ball. i was almost as surprised that she signed it as i was that she did it with me.

those are the happy little surprises that balance out the sad little suprises in life. i do my best to remember that they all pretty much even each other out.

anyhow, when i sold hotdogs at candlestick, all the people i worked with signed a stray foul ball on my last day.

weirdly that ball means just as much as all the other autographs that i have too.

see, another little happy suprise.

3rd leg + dog named clipper + dc

karisa came over with a meatloaf and a bottle of brass monkey.

she’d just cut her bangs and i probably shoulda taken a picture cuz she looked pretty cute.

tight gray college sweatshirt, jeans, pink pumas, hair in a pony tail. i told her she looked like laura petrie and she said that shes too young to know about her.

the greyhounds howled and i saw two girls in a kompressor waving at me. one of them was holding up a video tape.

karisa fixed our plates as i told the girls to come back tomorrow at noon.

we put in “catch me if you can” and were so entranced that we didnt talk to each other for a good twenty minutes.

is it the brass monkey? she asked me.

no. i think this is a good movie, i told her.

then i asked her how she liked tom hanks’ boston accent and she gave me a dirty look.

nobody i know talks like that, she informed me.

she she liked my haircut. she looked at it for a long time at first, soaking it all in.

ever fondue before, she asked me.

nope. i said.

me neither, she said, and then told me about a fondue place she saw in hollywood.

earlier in the day my boss at the xbi said that he thought i should take a vacation in a few weeks.

i said that i didnt want to take any vacation cuz i had nowhere to go and no one to go with.

he said i should just chill out for a week.

i walked home thinking about what he meant by that, then nearly fell asleep on the train, and then decided at wilshire vermont to take the new rapid line up to los feliz and get a pie from the house of pies.

maybe id clean out the closets one day, paint the bathtub one day, hang out with chris one day, and just sleep and sleep and sleep the other days.

maybe jeanine would let me lay in her hot tub with her.

maybe i’ll just bowl every day.

dan + sarah + bathtub girl

a really good question was asked

in the comments section this morning asking what part of my life i write about on here.


then they asked if i write about it somewhere else.


this blog is where all of my creative output goes. last year i did a baseball blog because i didnt think there were any baseball blogs. then i found out there were some really good ones, so i stopped mine.

and last year i kept two secret diaries. one was on Open Diary, but then all the people who i was hiding it from started reading it, so i saw no point. then i kept a hand-written diary that i wrote while riding the bus and train about my true secret super dooper crazy feelings about all the people in my life, specificially the girls i had crushes on. and even though i still have that journal, it’s hidden and i havent updated it in a while and i dont plan to because if certain people found it thered be a lot of explaining to do.

the best plan, i have found is to have this thing, tell everyone that it’s all fake. keep telling everyone it’s all fake and sprinkle some truths in there just to keep everyone guessing. but for the most part i pack all of this with lies and see if that will be enough to keep the kids happy.

kids, are you happy?

ashley called last night wanting to come over to pick up some of her things and i just need to mail those things because that whole thing is an open sore to me. i loved that girl very much. probably more than i divuldged in here. i told her i loved her all the time, so i guess thats all that matters. anyhow, now it’s pretty painful to hear her voice or talk to her without my emotions spilling over, and many times those emotions are manifested in negative, loud, verbal anger. none of which she deserves. shes a good girl. she’ll be better off without me. all i wanted to do was hold her hand and look at her. relationships should be more complex than that.

clippergirl only wants sex from me. thats a weird deal. i had that situation once and even though it wasnt with an nba cheerleader it was with a girl equally hot, but in a different way. i think im too olde now for those sorts of arrangements. your emotions find a way of making special guest appearences no matter how you try to stifle them. and it just isnt in the nature of souls to have the euphoria of kickass sexual lovin, the sweet words, the dirrty words, and the visuals, while simultaneously trying to pretend like everything was cool even when everything wasnt cool. basically i felt like i was spinning my wheels and just getting older.

getting old while banging one of the hottest babes in the galaxy isnt such a bad thing, i guess. but it is if youre the biggest dumbass in the world named tony who wants it all.

pretty much everything i thought i would be doing and having and being at this age im not doing and that frustrates me right now. i am writing. to you. and that part is nice. but not even that is what i want to be writing about. i dont even know what i want to be writing about, but writing about myself isnt it. theres way more interesting people out there like karisa who id rather write about since she leads such a crazy, fun, life, but shes such a private person that its ashame, cuz the phone conversations alone would be incredible to transcribe for your asses, you have no idea.

chopper one is being retooled right now and im bored. im sitting in the break room on a little imac they set up in here a few years ago. i have no idea why. but now im using it and my blog looks so much different on a mac. hi, blog.

hi, dumbass.

anyhow, just know theres lots of good stuff in store for this page and for the main page and as soon as i can find a little time i will be happy to make your visits here worthwhile. in the meantime, please click on the links on this page because a lot of those people are doing cool things.

and much love to those who continue to flow like my man Ajax

36. Ajax