lou doesnt want to be part of it

he’s lived his whole life. he’s seen things.

he doesnt want to be on the hollywood rock walk

what he wants to do is be across the street at that mexican restaurant.

in the dark.

margueritas melting, wet burrito steaming,

one last dip of the chip into the salsa.

lou reed worries me.

what happens if you write some of the best stuff of all time and sing it perfect and play it perfect and then one day it just all goes away.

when was the last good lou reed song? sweet jane? thirty years ago?

i dont want to go 30 years inbetween sweet janes.

all that stuff worries me.

jimmy page wrote zep one, two, three, four, and the rest and then never wrote another good song again.

how can people write such great music for years and then it all dries up.

not even a drop left.

we listened to johnny cash in palm springs.

some people have never lost it.

bukowski never lost it.

lou reed doesnt want to be at guitar center with his hands in mush surrounded by nobody named andy warhol.

i didnt sing to the cute baby like the gnome girl woulda wanted

but for some little kids i will one day

and some nights theyll get some heavy doses of the velvets.

and one day we’ll be where we should.

missing raymi + treacher + makeout city + nocturnal angel + reason: hit and run

call me fuck up

nobody ever gets named right. to ny. to new york. backwards y not. why not.

i don’t live in new york, im not going to new york. i don’t run around as carefree as a butterfly, i barely even get drunk. im as normal and as californian as a midwesterner from dc can be. but when they named me they shouldnta called me tony.

fuck up they should of written on their shoe sole in magic marker and kicked me in the forehead instead of spanking me hello.

people who know about the xbi talk shit about the xbi and some of it is just and some of it i defend well and some of it i cant at all.

today i fucked up big time.

today people got hurt.

we aim at the brain in the xbi.

fbi aims at the leg.

cops aim at the heart.

fbi can aim at the leg and hit it a lot of the time.

xbi don’t mind getting shot back at. plus we’re trying to send a message on the streets. an s-o-s to our world.

don’t fuck with the x

cooperate with the crazy.

listen and speak and do what we say or we will send trains into your homes filled with lumber.

and there’s two guns on the nose of chopper one.

machine guns.

fully automatic machine guns that are supposed to be filled with rubber biscuits but i didn’t check them and while i was on vacation this marine took chopper one up and showed off and used the bullets and not the biscuits and i should have checked but i don’t have any attention to detail.

i don’t cross my ts and dot my eyes.

which is why

im not fbi.

and today we were after gang members. real ones. teenaged ones.

innocent ones really.

innocent because of youth, not actions. actionwise they’re guilty. guilty guilty guilty.

like me.

and i was sending warning biscuits at their heads but i wasn’t lobbing biscuits i was blazing bullets.

they flew straight like lasers and ended careers and widowed and erased things

and started things

sad things

and i pulled up and said what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

and i heard the marine say didn’t you check your weapon

which is what he calls my pal chopper one

even though he knows i hate it called that

and i couldn’t say anything and i wanted to die

the gloom swept me like a bong rip of bad trips

i was blanketed with dread and in my ear i heard forget it… gangmembers… killers… uneducated… a waste.

they were arguing.

but i was to blame. this isn’t what its about. this is so lame.

and ive been wanting to quit the xbi for so long and ive been telling you that but it really is equal parts superhero equal parts thuglife and that’s so not me.

neither is me.

i wanted to cry i wanted to die i wanted to lie.

i wanted to go land it and run home and i got back and i didn’t say bye to anyone and i walked to the bus stop and kept walking and kept walking

got stuck in traffic trying to read



the comments aren’t really working very well today

and yes i upgraded it yesterday.

and blogger is being upgraded, and i thank them for that.

yesterday i got an interesting email regarding the comments and blogger and me and my alleged Status in the blogosphere.

this person said that she has been holding back the praise to me because she sees me getting it all the time and im glad the comments are rickety today because this isn’t about trying to milk more praise from you all.

but Blogging is really new and the thousand people who come here every day is a really nice thing, but its nowhere near the 80,000 that Instapundit gets and therefore I have never regarded myself as an A-List or Big Time blogger.

Plus any positive thing that anyone says about me is very welcomed and does not fall on deaf or jaded ears. It all makes me smile and it all makes me want to write more and more.

Please dont think that just because the average blog gets a fraction of the traffic that i get that that means that instantly makes me feel like a great writer, or heals any confidence issues that I have. it helps but it doesn’t heal.

libras they say have very low self esteem. and in that case im very much a libra. but its not a big deal the way it used to be. its sorta like a tooth that acts up occasionally.

ive done my best to turn it into a motivating device. for example i know that i’ll never be able to write like layne or welch or the rabbit, but i can do photo essays and fake interviews and lie and lie and lie, which would be different than them, not necessarily better.

anyway, i guess the point of all of this is if you read something online and you like it you should tell the person regardless of the perceived popularity because odds are everyone likes to hear nice things. i know i do.

also if you really like a site or blog that you think is popular and you dont want to link to them because you think they get enough links, i can understand.

but i still like to be linked by everyone who likes me and reads me daily.

when i get 80,000 hits a day maybe i will feel differently.

i’ll let you know then.

instapundit + brett lamb + black mask