yes, i get depressed sometimes.

not all the time. hardly ever any more. but i do. and today i was pretty depressed.

just like most people sometimes i can think some pretty terrible thoughts when im bummed out. and fortunately those feelings dont last long.

sometimes you cant see the light, you cant see the golden pot of gold at the end of the rainbow with the leprechaun napping next to it, all you can see is the rain, all you can see is the darkness.


and just like a lot of people i have good friends, and some of the friends are really good and some of them are so good they say that they’ll drink wine with me and help me do my laundry and lie to me all the pretty little lies that help when youre feeling like shit.

i do have the greatest friends.

i know im not the vincent van gogh of bloggers, but i am crazy.

ive got to be crazy if all these people say how great everything is on these pages, and yet i cant find a way to make a living at doing it when theres all these other people who wouldnt write good blogs if they tried who actually make good livings writing.

im not a victim.

i dont feel sorry for myself.

for a good part of my adult life i have really respected the works of mr. charles bukowski, perhaps youve heard of him.

besides being a very clear, simple writer, he lived a life of poverty for the majority of his life. but what is the best part of his writing for me, is he never complained about his lot in life. he would drink his wine and kiss the women and type on his typewriter and get overlooked day after day after month after year after decade.

he never whined like a bitch, he never put a gun to his head on the stoop of his mansion in idaho, he didnt cut off his dumb dutch ear, he didnt trade arms for hostages. he just kept his head down and drove the lane.

theres some big bodies in the lane right now, people, and the refs arent seeing things my way.

which means maybe i am traveling a little.

or throwing an elbow.

or being dull.

at a hundred and nine years old should i really be riding the bus to the xbi any more any way?

this little experiment called lets see if you can pull hot chicks with no money no car no game can generate no better results than what the busblog has revealed. the answer is a unanimous yes, and all the analysis cant make it any different.

but i am just getting older. and dumber. not funner.

even my bosses boss said to me today that im not a young man any more.

very famous person took me to lunch today and asked me if i would start off at the very bottom at a newspaper or magazine and i said yes right away and then i said yes again super fast.

i say i dont want to work at kinkos but maybe thats what i have to do.

is that what i have to do?

i guess i could learn to bartend.

or go back to directing.

buffoonery + ham fisted theatrics + gawker + alabama

to protest the war i went to a war protest

this one was interesting because it was right next door to the academy awards here in hollywood.

interesting but not entirely fun because the cops were seriously on edge, which upset me because when was the last time a cop got hurt at a peace protest in hollywood?

i think a lot of these coppers had watched a bunch of the war on tv and were amped up to be the long arm of the law because when the dude told them to run down the street, they hauled ass down the street. when one of them started jabbing their nightsticks *close* to the protesters, they all did.

it was spooky.

clearly the cops with their riot gear and their helmets and their, uh, guns, were no match for the hollywood hippies. i was wearing a cubs hat, my compadre had on a pleated skirt, and we were about the scariest people within miles. there was no reason for all the testosterone, ponch.

at one point i was being pushed by a young cop.

it was a very interesting dynamic because i havent been touched in that sort of a way by anyone, ever, who i wasnt allowed to push back.

about twenty cops were sweeping about 10 punk rockers away from the precious corner of highland and sunset.

ive got nothing to do with those guys, i told the cop.

he said, doesnt matter, go that way. and i found myself in the middle of a moving square of cops. four in a row, five rows.

it was like being in a marching band of silence.

my date and i didnt look like punk rockers, but we didnt look like cops either. if you didnt know any better you’d have thought that the cops were helping us get through the crowd.

when all we really wanted was a pepsi.

anyhow. here it is now one fourteen a.m. and i dont get to wake up at noon tomorrow.

infact i get to go back to work tomorrow and i should go in early because ive been gone a week and i normally have to read about 75 emails a day.

i will miss you, vacation, you were great to me.

i got to sleep, i got to write a bunch, i got to take a ton of pictures, i didnt have to shave, i got to kiss pretty girls, i got to stay up until it was light and sleep until i wanted to.

i hung out with my friends, i ran a little, i worked out a little, i ate chinese food a bunch, i got to stand guard as a girl peed in the bushes of the rich, i even stopped thinking about work for a few days.

enjoy the latest photo essay and be sure to tell me how much you loved it.