somebody sent me one hundred and ten dollars

25. chris s.

(not my old girlfriend)

but it’s okay because the carrier pigeons send me sweet little notes from her, and i attach pez dispensers to them and send em back on their way.

the last one was a wonder woman one and she liked it very much. so much so that she sent me a naughty little picture of herself along with a tiny lil note that said

what are you doing for valentines day?

i wrote back, “im gonna eat some ecstasy and let you molest me.”

she sent back a pigeon with two capsules of x and a locket with her name engraved on it.

for some reason i always take a whiff of the pigeon to see if she squirted a little of her delicious perfume on them, but she never does and the pigeons always look at me a little cockeyed and try to poop on my hand.

anna has been nursing a sore back. her pal martina hingis retired last week at the ripe old age of 22 and on one hand i would love it if anna quit too because i would get to spend more time with her, but on the other hand i would really like to see her win a tourney before she hangs the adidas up for good.

my weekend was spent pretty much blowing my gnose into toilet paper. right now my cleaning lady is putting a deep scrub on everything. i did my best to rid her of nasty kleenexes and empty soup cans.

i did enjoy the all-star game last night. especially when mariah nearly made mj cry because she sings so wonderfully.

i know a lot of people talk shit about her, but whatever. no matter whats going on in her life, the one thing that matters is that mariah’s a great singer.

which is exactly why i have her poster facing my bed.

which i will probably have to take down, temporarily, if anna really does come over on valentines day.

hopefully i wont just pass out as soon as i eat it, which is what happened last time, only to be woken up by her slamming the door knocking over the x-rated polaroids she left behind of her in lingerie with a post-it that said, “this is what you missed, old man.”

trust me, i know what i missed.

i am feeling better today, if you’re scoring at home.

and if you’re scoring at home, remember not to be selfish.

scott rosenberg

and put most of them in the laundry hamper, then put that in the granny cart, then took a pillow case and threw the rest of the dirty clothes in, and rolled the whole thing behind me down the filthy streets of hollywood on a warm sunday afternoon.

warm if you didnt have a cold.

like i did.

so i had on cords, a thermal shirt, a flannel, and karisa’s grey sweatshirt, and a cubs hat, and a frown.

passed an old man kicking a can as he walked down the street, except he wasnt kicking a can, he was kicking a pacifier.

passed a dog in a small yard, a yard that smelled of dog doo and i wondered if that particular dog’s heightened sense of smell was haunting him. my sense of smell was fuct due to the cold, yet the doo cut right through.

passed four men playing poker on a fold out card table in someones front lawn. they were old men and they spoke armenian to each other and smoked cigarrettes and drank wine from water glasses beneath the shade of a cherry tree.

made it to the coin laundry. had everything with me except cough drops and you.

my favorite row of washers were ready for me. got colors in the first one, got colors in the second one. two mexicans showed up a little younger than me. one had a good little moustashe going. the other did just as he was told. he was told to put clothes in the fifth machine. hey pedro, what if i wanted to use the fifth machine i esped.

put whites in the third. put colors in the fourth. stuffed the rest of the clothes in the first and second and wished for the ins to arrive.

no such luck.

some high school girl with big juicy tits, her little sister in one hand, and nathanial hawthornes the scarlet letter in the other hand sat down next to me. i look up to see whats on tv. some spanish program. i look at the other tv and not only is that a spanish program too, but its the same one as over here.

i get up, ashamed that im undressing this high school sophomore with my eyes and walk past the winchells donut store and pass four men two whom are sitting on a parked car, two who are leaning against the store looking at every single woman who walks past, not discrimanatory against age, weight, or hair color.

theyre speaking spanish and they look at me pass and i look like a freak with all my layers but im sick and im xbi so dont fuck with me, amigos.

i poke my head into a girlie store where everything is red and pink and white for valentines day and everything is wrapped up in plastic like grandma just got a plastic wrapping machine and went crazy. even the dozen roses have plastic covering them.

grandma looks like a great-grandma and i aint got no valentine so i move on.

pass by an armenian record store. bunch of people ive never heard of, but the store has six cds of this guy, six of some lady, six of another guy. all in the window.

i dont even think the virgin megastore has six led zeppelin four cds and thats like the greatest cd of all time.

i move on to one of the many mini markets on this street. this one has a good meat department, a lousy vegetable department, and lots of minute made orange juice and apple juice so they have made a sale here.

buck thirty nine for tweny ounces of oj? sure its a rip off, but what the hell.

rappers delight is playing on his radio, still sounding as good as it did when i first heard it back in the day.

sometimes it pays to be as old as the hills.

get back to the coin laundry and theres only a few minutes left on machine #2 and then none. my favorite row of dryers are empty.

i put in a load, then el jag off puts in a load two over from me, leaving me with just three to use. i will definately need four.

when i get to the fourth i have to go clear across to the opposite end of the laundry mat.

i think about the fact that even though my dick hasnt been sucked properly in weeks, im still way ahead of the game than this guy, and let him have what he wants, which is to irritate me.

i sit down and watch a philipino woman with a tshirt of a racooon that says “no matter what happened, i didnt do it.”

he’s laying on his back, hands on his belly.

big titted high school girl’s sister is begging for change from her older sister. the little girl is maybe 4. her sister says she only has a dime. the little girl insists “change!”

she whines and whines and girls are nicer than boys would be. eventually they both exit and soon return with a sticker from a machine down the street and the little girl is happy again.

before i know it my laundry is done and racoon lady sees another lady taking my dryers as i take my clothes out, but insists on ruining her shit by taking the one last dryer near the door, fucking up everything, its hard to explain, but, at least more than one person was being selfish.

pass a man getting out of a market with a can of beer in a brown paper bag.

i thought about one of my highschool art teachers who taught me how to look at shadows and then draw them.

i wonder if i was todays shadow as i unlocked my backdoor, pulled the granny cart into the kitchen and powered on the tv which was about to show me the all star game.

slow blog

he’s 59. im sick as a damn dog and ive been up all night watching an academy screener of Gangs of New York which i totally loved.

clipper girl brought it over with four of her sexiest girlfriends and they all watched it at my place cuz i have such a huge

tv.

afterwards they went home and i played grand theft auto because i was so psyched after the movie.

but now here it is 3:35am and i really wanted to go to gregs birthday party tomorrow because a hootenanny will break out and all but like i said im sick and i dont think i will get much better by tomorrow and this is the early stages of the sickness which will probably get worse which means that i am probably at the contageous stage and the last thing i would want to do is get every single one of my dear dear friends ill cuz of my dumb bus-riding ass.

but it is nice to stay up and just read peoples blogs and write and write and write.

hi blog.

hi tone.

hi cold.

hi tony.

hi blank area in the blogger post.

my man aj totally whipped out $30 and flowed it to the busblog so my hats off to him, thanks bro.

for that he gets a free mystery gift sent to his house.

i think he will like it.

i think it will be a poetry book of mine from way back when.

i think if anyone else flows $30 or more they will get one of my little out of print chapbooks of poems.

in my day i wasnt a bad poet.

infact birthday boy greg painted a portrait of me and titled it “the worlds greatest living poet.”

well, greg is the worlds greatest living lots of things, and right now he’s doing a pretty damn good job of raising his adorable little son, sean.

i am super happy for the way things are turning out for greg.

it doesnt seem all that long ago when he was sleeping on my couch in frisco trying to get it together and now he is living in one of the coolest, i shit you not, houses in los feliz, a house full of guitars and cool colors and old appliances, and love and love and love.

i bought him the dumbest birthday card of all, which took me a while to find, but of all people he would appreciate it. we share a love for the dumb things in life. like 99 cent store cookies, and plastic toys, and puns.

greg has influenced me in tons of ways but maybe the best way was that he showed me that not only is it ok to let the art out, but it is our responsibility.

so happy 74th birthday mi amigo. if i dont end up at your party, just know that i will be wearing a pointy birthday hat here at the beach house all day in your honor.

greg vaine, the worlds greatest rock operaist who isnt into kiddie porn.

From The Economist print edition

Los Angeles has lost one newspaper but is about to gain another AP

Riordan has his say

AS MAYOR of Los Angeles, and during his brief run for governor of California last year, Richard Riordan was a gift to journalists. Affable and unguarded, he spoke (and sometimes misspoke) his mind in a way that reflected his earlier years building a fortune in business, rather than the polishing efforts of spin-doctors. Now Mr Riordan wants to put $5m of his fortune towards starting a new weekly newspaper in Los Angeles.

The LA Examiner is due to start publication in June. A prototype produced last month gives a hint of what to expect. The editors, Ken Layne and Matt Welch, two experienced newspapermen who were pioneers in the online world of weblogs, have put together a colourful 52-page tabloid full of articles by an array of seasoned LA journalists and a few well-known outsiders, such as Billy Crystal. The aim, says Mr Layne, is to reflect the cultural energy of the city and, naturally, to cover local stories better than the existing media does.

This is a reference to the Los Angeles Times, the dominant local daily�and hardly a favourite with the Examiner crew. Mr Riordan griped at it throughout his time as mayor and during his failed run for governor. Messrs Layne and Welch, irritated by what they saw as the Times’s lack of basic beat reporting and its mealy-mouthed approach to racial issues, started a website in 2001 devoted to daily criticism of the paper. They called it LAExaminer.com in memory of an earlier competitor, the LA Herald Examiner.

If this sounds familiar, it is because the story is distinctly similar to that of the New York Sun, a right-wing newspaper which sprang out of smartertimes.com, an anti-New York Times site. Messrs Layne and Welch insist that they are less conservative sorts than their New York peers, but the Herald Examiner is still likely to be more right-wing than the LA Times, and it is making the same pitch as the Sun for upmarket readers.

Until last October Los Angeles had two free weekly �alternative� papers, the Los Angeles Weekly and the New Times LA. They both wrote about local politics, published entertainment listings and competed for advertising, especially for movies and sex services. In October, though, the New Times group, which is based in Phoenix, Arizona, reached a deal with the Weekly’s parent, Village Voice Media in New York: the New Times LA and the Village Voice’s Free Times in Cleveland would both close, letting the LA Weekly and the New Times’s Cleveland Scene raise advertising rates.

The news was a blow to LA readers who relished having alternative �alternatives�. But the Examiner has duly snapped up some New Times writers. Even better news came on January 27th, when the Department of Justice ordered the colluding weekly groups to pay fines and sell the assets of the closed newspapers, including the newspaper racks that sit on street corners. It will hardly hurt the Examiner to have had the leftish Weekly’s parent so briskly spanked for behaving like a scheming monopolist.

The Examiner plans to eschew sex-ads but still offer itself for free. This chaste, generous approach may make it hard for it to break even in three years, as it hopes. Mr Layne loyally argues that one attraction will be the voice of Mr Riordan himself, who will have a column. Another interfering proprietor? At least he dropped his original plan (possibly not altogether serious) to call the paper the Big Dick.

mssr matt welch + mssr ken layne

ive never understood people who write checks at the supermarket.

ive never understood college republicans.

ive never understood famous people who get married in their early twenties.

ive never understood the chicks who have gone down on me.

ive never understood why people get palm pilots or people who get married just because they got accidentally pregnant.

ive never understood the fascination with barbara streisand.

ive never understood bus drivers who peel out when there are people running after them obviously wanting to board the bus in the middle of the night.

ive never understood why radio will play one song over and over and over again and then nothing else by the artist ever again just because their label didnt cut a new single off the cd.

ive never understood people who have lived in america for decades but still cant speak english. at all.

ive never understood this reasonably new trend that young women have where they’ll blow you but not fuck you, even if you have a condom, yet they’ll swallow, even.

ive never understood women who dress up so that other women will approve of them, sounds sorta gay to me.

ive never understood catholic priests who have given up having sex even though there isnt one word in the Bible anywhere that says that priests have to be celibate.

ive never understood people who insist on emailing me even though it’s obvious that i have no interest in communicating with them.

ive never understood half the girls who’ve liked me and half the girls who didn’t like me.

but ive always understood why the tribune corp hasnt ever gotten serious about the cubs.

it’s because the tribune corp is one of the most easilly identified sources of evil on this hemisphere.

what do we know

i really love courtney. how cant you?

like most strippers, she just cant stop showing us her boobies and i think that’s sweet.

thank you, courtney love for showing us your titties.

the flowage of love for the car fund is doing well right now. for that i also want to deliver up some thanks. thank you swell people!

16. sunana

17. kari

18. pete

19. gary

20. jay

i also got a sweet email from an interesting new yorker named jamie leigh.

and i got an email from jenny period who wants me to link her new blog where she says on it that she wants to meet me, but i lost the link.

oh well.

do you think i should take this car that you all chip in to get me and drive around one summer and meet everyone who flowed me?

i do.

speaking of sloppy messes, i saw that michael jackson thing last night. it made me sad for him. he’s in such a strange little bubble of unreality. it makes me want to hang out with him and let him know that its okay to mess around with the ladies instead of the little boys.

everyone wanted to play a little more as kids.

theres no reason to freak out over it for the rest of your life.

questions i would have asked michael jackson if i had done the interview:

ever watch porn?

what the fuck is up with Cubs?

kari

some of it has to do with long time fan ric from bitchen for getting me ten clams closer to my dream of being an automobile owner, some of it has to do with this flu bug getting trapped in my throat, trying to strangle me in my sleep but only falling in love with my vocal chords and giving me a delicously deep voice today making all the ladies of the house say ho.

ho ho.

also mad props to jenny period for not letting me be anything but up up up and not giving me any slack. we superheroes know that there are no sick days and that if we show even the slightest modicum of humanness like sadness, depression, or discomfort that the whole world will implode and she wont be able to get her nails done from the koreans for ten bucks.

you have no idea how your comments motivate me.

so yes, now i am back to feeling like a hundred bucks, i have a candy dish half full of cough drops that im popping like vicodin, im proudly sporting my raiders longsleeve and ive got on my true love’s stretch gap jeans on that fit me nearly as well as they fit her. the only thing that fit her as well as these jeans are my dirty thoughts.

she called me last night and told her that some of her girlfriends are planning a sleep over. how cute is that? three or four super hot babes sitting around smoking, drinking, gabbing in a santa monica beach house?

sometimes as i fly chopper one at night i think about all the going ons that are happening in this fair city and never has my imagination hinted to the fact that there might be a hot babe sleepover in progress as i lean the controls to the left and zoom over the pacific.

truth is much better than fiction, which is why everything in here is true.

psych.

last night i got interviewed for this blogger panel that im going to be part of in a week and a half.

im not sure if i want to publicize it here because im not down with the stalkers.

if you are on good terms with me, or if you are a fan of the blog and will be in the LA area for Valentine’s weekend, or if you are a friend of mine and wish to support me in this my first attempt to appear interesting on such a panel, you can email me at panel@tonypierce.com and i will send you the top secret url of the deal that will include some high class movers and shakers in the blog world.

anyhow, talking to this woman who is organizing all of this last night made me pretty happy cuz i got to tell her how important my mom was in my life.

my mom is super smart black woman who was doing computer programming starting way back in the late sixties. i got to tell the woman that im sure that she influenced me in a very subtle way to love computers and logical thinking.

afterwards the red phone rang and i hopped in my flying car and helped solve a crime that was about to go down but didnt because the xbi was running smoothly.

just like always.

ric

Raising Hell

Def Jam Records

“Proud To Be Black”

[Run]

You know I’m proud to be black y’all

and that’s a fact y’all

And if you try to take what’s mine

I take it back y’all – it’s like that

Licki-licki-licki-licki-licki-licki-licki-licki-

Listen party people here’s a serious song

It’s right not wrong, I should say right on

I gotta tell you somethin that you all should know

It’s not a mystery it’s history and here’s how it go

Now Hariett Tubman, was born a slave

She was a tiny black woman, when she was raised

She was livin to be givin there’s a lot that she gave

There’s not a slave, in this day and age

I’m proud to be

[D.M.C.]

Black, god damn, I’m tired my man

Don’t worry bout what color I am

Because I’ll show you how ill, this man can act

It could never be fiction cause it is all fact

And if you get in my way, I will not turn back

I’m proud of my name, my name is Darryl Mack

I’m black and I’m proud, and I’ll say it out loud

I’ll share my story with the whole crowd, AUUUGHH!

[Run-D.M.C.]

You know I’m proud to be black y’all

and that’s a fact y’all

And if you try to take what’s mine

I take it back y’all – it’s like that

[Run]

DJ Run, and I run these things

You can hear it loud and clear like when the schoolbell rings

Like Martin Luther King, I will do my thing

I’ll say it in a rap cause I do not sing

[D.M.C.]

D.M.C., the man, that’s causin the beef

I got a message for the world so listen up it’s brief

Like Malcolm X said I won’t turn the right cheek

Got the strength to go the length, if you wanna start beef

Start beef!

[Run-D.M.C.]

You know I’m proud to be black y’all

and real brave y’all

And motherfucker I could never be a slave y’all

So take that!!

[Run]

We’re gonna tell ya somethin put your mind in a swirl

God bless the next baby that comes in this world

The world’s full of hate discrimination and sin

People judgin other people by the color of skin

I’ll attack this matter, in my own way

Man, I ain’t no slave, I ain’t reelin no hay

Written a deposition, in any condition

Don’t get in my way cause I’m full of ambition

I’m proud to be black (and I ain’t takin no crap)

I’m fresh out the pack (and I’m proud to be black)

SO TAKE THAT!!

[Run-D.M.C.]

There was a man – an inventor – who invented so well

He invented a fortune – for a man named Bell

George Washington Carver, made the peanut great

Showed any man with a mind, could create

You read about Malcolm X – in the history text

Jesse Owens broke records, Ali broke necks

What’s wrong with ya man? How can you be so dumb?

LIKE DR. KING SAID, WE SHALL OVERCOME!

bitchen

i feel like i have the beginnings of a cold, but i dont think it’s that. i had the sore throat, but thats pretty much been taken care of by the Tom Kha Kai soup that my attorney brought over last night.

im just tired.

and i havent done shit about Black History Month.

and not everyone who comes to this blog wants to flow me ten bucks each so i can get a car.

and i dont have a job that floats my boat.

and radio sucks.

and the cubs didnt sign pudge.

some kid from indiana wrote some shit about why he hates blogs and it got on the internet. fuck him. go back to your state school and beat off in the bushes.

ashleys coming over tonight to drop off her key, pick up a pair of pajama bottoms, find a sole shoe she left behind, and say good bye to me for forever.

am i sad about it?

of course.

but she did some fucked up things and she did them twice. to me.

i dont like fucked up things being done to me.

she says shes sorry, but shes not. she has a new man now. she wont be sorry till shes alone. then she wont be sorry about what she should be sorry about. she’ll just be sad.

and alone.

one of these days i’ll find the girl of my dreams.

one of these days everything will work out.

today just isnt that day

katie hall