the xbi has issued a new procedure thats pretty interesting.

first of all if we’re pissed at each other we can no longer shoot at each other.

but we can say fuck you to each other.

but we can only do it once a day, and our fuck yous can carry-over so if you dont tell anyone to fuck themselves on one day you can tell two people to fuck themselves the next day. or you can tell one person to fuck themselves twice the next day.

strangely this has not only cut down on the gunplay but also the verbal assaults.

i really dont curse that much at work. i know if you read the busblog much you’d think im a swearing machine, but not really. i just use those words on here because the legitimate liberal press cannot.

and cuz its fun.

and cuz welch and layne and all the rest of my heroes are too ashamed to on their things, but i understand, theyre professionals and they want people to think that theyre smarter than they are, which they are.

so now im flying over west la, my old home, and im thinking about who i want to give my fuck yous to for this week.

and im also a little worried about who will give me some, which is really weird because when they were unlimited i didnt really say anything evil to people and very few of them said anything evil to me.

but the new russian chick shot at me a few times, so im pretty sure shes gonna fling some curses at me.

when i grow up i want to be a white rapper.

just kidding.

when i grow up i want to be a dj on a pirate radio station that illegally broadcasts the accounts and descriptions of major league baseball without written permission of the commissioner of baseball or the chicago cubs.

and in the background i want to play led zep and janes addiction and motley crue and tsar.

souptree + kate sullivan + britcoal + jack had the right idea, sorta

tiger told me that he would dye his hair after i told him that he wouldnt do anything that his model girlfriend didnt like and i told him he was full of shit and yesterday he actually did something relatively non-pussy.

congrats, tiger. you’re that much less not an old white man trapped in a africanamericanasian body.

todays george herbert walker bush’s birthday.

i dont trust rich people with two middle names.

todays also marv albert’s birthday.

why is it that i trust that wig-wearing crossdressing backbiter more than our president and his old man combined?

probably cuz he calls a sweet ass basketball game.

fell asleep last night watching “ice age”.

tivo plus hbo is really spectacular. thank you people who created tivo. i love you.

i do.

had a woman subway driver today who was really good. wanted to put that into the record.

last night a good friend, make that two good friends who asked me about some previous post and whether or not i was really sad or really mad or really whatever and i had to keep on saying nothing in there is true. and they would say some of it is true and i would have to say none of it is true and theyd say but… and i would interrupt and say nothing in there is true.

and they would say ok, fine.

and i would say, if youre worried, email me. or call.

my phone rings off the hook. still. so maybe i shouldnta said call.

i have no desire to buy the radiohead cd.

i have no desire to get a dvd player.

i have no desire to see the hulk.

cubs keep winning without sammy so today will be a good day.

hunnh + i miss raymi + jim gilliam

i want to be a good writer i want to be a good man

i wroter which is weak(r) she wrote back i wrote back she wrote back i wrote back she truth or dared me i truthed and dared her i want to be a good writer i want to be a good blogger i want to be i want to be i want to keep being me.

shes a smart girl its obvious and pretty and confident even though young and smart and pretty and sexy iwant to be someone better i want to do something bigger i want to i want to i want to i cant believe how much i get to. she i hope understood what i was saying but theres no way she could understand what im saying. i want this computer to get fixed soon. the viruses have it pinned down but it keeps moving its head quick to the left cheek then quick to the right cheek, headbutting when the virus gets too close to the lips, tounge slithering out, teeth glistening in the light of the tv.

it might be old, like she isnt, but its just as feisty, just as strong. just as important to this sentence. and this one. and this paragraph. and the next one. i want to be better. i want to be faster i want to be sharper i want to be smarter.

the birds are singing in the moonlight for some reason. are they hungry or horny the palm tree asks itself. faster. faster. harder. smarter. the dew and the breeze and the street sounds and pet sounds, the garbage and the homeless the scarecrow and the rainbow can only hear these little birds sing in the darkness and its not a song they know or cares to know we all just know that its hard to stay i say its hard to stay satisfied for more than a more of that more than this more than that its hard to stay satisfied for more than a minute so keep going keep growing keep working keep trying.

peak upon peak upon peak and youre faster peak upon strength upon rock upon magical. she has a magical smile and courtney love eyes and a voice like raymi thats deep sometimes and grainy. she held herself she did well for herself she called herself a girl she proved her spot in this whirling and whirling and spining and turning i saw the i letter that said that i said i too much. touch too much. touch too much. i i i i too much. you suck too much. like incubus. you suck at us.

i didnt want to meet elvis costello after i met paul westerberg. bruce climbed the fence at graceland, i stood in line at spaceland. sometimes the image the idea the day dream the ice cream is better in the mind than in the orange rind. he had orange rinds all over. he had his hands on his back he had guns in his rack we had guns at his back i said why the orange rinds he said xbi i said no such thing he started crying he said please dont kill me i said answer the question he said i didnt believe you existed i said feel your arm twisting he said dont touch my girlfriend i said you probably should stop moving he said for the weed i said what he said orange rinds orange rinds the whole place smelled of lemon peels i mean orange rinds this years potpourri the devil still owes me he said shes my true love i said this isnt about her quit talking about her you want to talk about her you dont want us to talk to her he said no no i said no one wants or needs her but what of these orange rinds.

and the traffic from her bedroom is like a river except its the 2 she says tea i said nyet she says me i said wait she opened up a baggie and pinched off a peice and packed a big bowl and she said for both of us i thought xbi she said lets get high i thought xbi she said have you not tried i said i could die she said why now why i said xbi shit i said xbi.

no wonder why.

and i woke up and she was smiling i woke up and she was staring i woke up and i didnt know where i was right there with her and with you and with pink tv and dirty clothes and rolled up socks and pantyhose she said you were talking in your sleep i said i dont talk in my sleep she said you were on repeat i said what she said talk to me look at me talk with me look at me i said why are you saying that she says thats what you were doing i said what was i doing she said rhyming and stealing and repeating and circling and running through the strangest lists. i said like what she said you said i want to be better i want to be normal i want to be better i want to be ternal.

she said do you want to write better i said i want to go getter she said do you want to go get her she said i want to go get her.

laencantada + sepi + jarrett

and their asses and bailed out early this morning, hours before we, the xbi, had shown up.

so now theres going to be some heads being bashed in because someone told them they were coming, because there was a mess, because there was shit everywhere, and because nobody messes with texas, and because nobody lives after they rat out the xbi.

plus i just found out that my true lust has the wrong birthday.

i try not to believe in astrology but when it keeps coming true what can you do?

shes so cute.

but theyre all cute.

sad thing about astrology being right is that its been so right.

its not like i didnt try either. but all the ones that werent supposed to work out didnt work out exactly how they werent supposed to work out.

especially the arieses.

so cute.

someone just told me that sammy’s appeal has been heard and major league baseball has reduced the suspension from 8 days to 7 days.

fuck baseball.

what does this teach kids? do kids get to appeal their suspensions? wheres the kids’ union?

so sammy cheats, puts a huge blemish on his career, and gets a week-long summer vacation. fuck you, baseball.

no longer is my fondest wish to travel the world and blog to you about all the wonderful people i meet and delicious foods that i eat.

my new fondest wish isnt to manage the cubs to a world series victory, it’s to be the first black commissioner of baseball.

and trust me there will be minorites in the front offices and in the managerial ranks once im the commish.

and you’ll see the death of the dh.

and people who cheat will not be given week-long summer holidays.

which rhymes with buck beer friday ladies days.

d-lo + gorilla mask + the ward

first they had a guy dragging a huge ship anchor and chain across sand. now some dude is pulling a semi truck across a parking lot.

even the ladies at the xbi like the strongman competition which is broadcast on espn every morning.

someone just said in my ear that game one of the stanley cup finals got the same ratings as the womens college softball world series. i think america is saying fuck puck.

we like trees but they dont do anything.

nothing other than convert carbon dioxide into oxygen and give birds and bugs and vermin nice little homes in which to live.

i walk past this very large church to the subway each day. the church has a large congregation and lots of volunteers. i dont judge whatever they pray about in their church but i do judge their groundskeeping.

to have so many volunteers they sure have a lot of weeds and ugly plants.

have pretty plants spiritual people.

im not sexist, but i have found myself not liking the rides given by the female subway drivers.

and i miss the goodmorning goodmorning goodmorning subway man. what happened to him?

he’d say things like wilshire/western this is our final stop, please make sure to take all your personal belongings, cell phones, bags, purses, coats with you. and remember youre all kings and queens. have a beautiful day.

wheres that guy?

instead i get these women who brake too hard and who always seem suprised that the normandie stop is after the vermont stop.

theres always this, next stop is…. normandie.

why the pause, ladies?

every time you leave vermont station the normandie station will be there.

also they only tell you that this is the wilshire/western train after they close the doors and head off.

its ok to tell the people before you close the doors. infact tell them a few times and tell them the north hollywood train will come in a few minutes.

im looking at the wind blow the trees.

today we’re flying over venice. some gang shit. we’re about to steal a bunch of leather furniture after we make our “citizens arrests”.

im giving mine to the poor.

i already have furniture.

i played the lotto yesterday even though the odds are against me.

they say you have a better chance of getting hit by lightning. so i figure if you want to get hit by lightning go outside in a storm.

similiarly if you want to get a couple million dollars and travel around and write about it may as well get some lottery tickets.

the gang members dont seem to be at home.

someone wants to go into their warehouse anyway but im telling them that it might be a trap.

so now someone is singing “… caught in a trap, and i cant get back

cuz i love you too much baby.”

oh shit, now everyone is singing and laughing

“We can’t go on together

With suspicious minds…”

crazy thing is some of these people are about to start shooting at people.

like at any minute.

bitchen photo essay from the dells+ wKen + sumo-pop + allison

because it was my bestfriend’s birthday and i didnt even get to see her.

i once saw a thing about this hundred year old woman who lived in this big building of old folks and she would go to the drugstore for all the other old folks and she picked up a hobby when she was 50 and then picked up another when she was 75 and then a different one when she was 90. she said that one reason she was able to stay healthy and happy was that she didnt resist or fight change.

if someone that she loved died or moved away, she wouldnt let it bring her too far down. she rolled with the changes. she said that in her 100 years she saw so much change it was insane and just flowed with it all.

i think about that old lady a lot. not because im interested in living to be 500 years old, but because she seemed happy throughout her whole life, and because i dont do as well with change as i’d like. especially with old girlfriends.

i suppose i am still carrying a torch for my ex, which i know is dumb, but its the pattern that i repeat time after time. and i know in my heart that all it does is take years off my life.

not in a mortal sense, but in a real sense. if you close your heart to the world for even a half of a year after you break up with someone then youve taken half a year off your Life, and my pattern has been to go years without giving any of the fine ladies of america a real chance after a break up.

historians might go back to my archives and see that i picked up the hobby of blogging right when my true love and i were breaking up a few years back. and others might say that i started dating ashley immediately, and clipper girl and others, but the truth was my heart was still with yesterdays birthday girl. we talked on the phone every day and hung out at least once a week.

i dont know why im writing about this.

this is boring.

im trying to get my courage up to ask the hottest girl at work out for this weekend.

lets see what my astrology says.

Libra Horoscope for week of June 12, 2003 by Rob Brezney

When I’m mountain-biking on the ridge, I usually stick to the relatively smooth parts of the dirt trails. Now and then, though, I head straight towards the most jagged bumps and deepest pits. It feels good to test my sense of balance so dramatically — to have to make countless split-second adjustments as my bike rumbles over the rugged terrain. Far from being a hardship, the sensation is exhilarating. I do it on purpose because it’s fun. From my analysis of the astrological omens, Libra, I reckon you’re now in a phase comparable to the one I just described. May you enjoy every minute of the wild ride.

I guess that means go for it.

okay, i’ll go for it.

blog blog blog + the new and improved la examiner + la observed

why the fuck am i playing baseball right now?

arent i supposed to be suspended?

didnt i get totally lucky that all eyes were on me and wrigley and my bats this weekend, and i survived it and my damn team even went two outta three with the bronx bombers, why am i in baltimore?

if i was sammy sosa i would tell the commish, please lets just do this right now.

nobody has any class any more. thats the problem,

drudge.

these two guys were obviously cheating, i should say, are still cheating in one of my fantasy baseball leagues.

you know what you get when you win a yahoo fantasy baseball league?

the screen says congratulations to your team name.

so why would you cheat?

anyway, i delivered a few choice lines on the message board because actually playing in the league isnt nerdy enough, i actually am active in this league.

and i told them how they were cheating and how their trades were horrible and then i signed it, nice work, sosas.

im not taking all of this very well.

i wish sammy had just said it was planted.

or he never did it in the first place.

i also wish my tivo knew how to understand the mlb package on directv.

i also wish that the new tsar record would hurry up and come out.

i also wish the hottest girl at work hadnt been so cute today.

if there were three books that i could recommend sammy read this summer

the first would be vurt by jeff noon, psychedelic sci fi from the uk.

then i would say cruddy by lynda barry, funny sad wonderful

then i would say read genesis

then i would say read ten bukowski poems for good luck.

ah, memories.

got on the bus this morning and tried to read the article that Los Angeles magazine wrote about taking the bus around la. of course there werent any pictures, just illustrations, because using public transportation in this town is good but only in theory. lord help you if you actually got near a bus to write about it.

for some reason they chose to ride the bus from northridge to long beach which are opposite ends of la county.

dumb.

why must i constantly fix the entire world?

what they should have done was take it from the valley to LAX, or from long beach to staples center or from east la to santa monica pier, you know, actual trips that people would possible make if they knew they could. (you can).

if youre dumb enough to live in long beach and attend cal state northridge when theres a perfectly good cal state long beach minutes away, then you deserve to suffer.

regardless, los angeles magazine just proved what we all knew long ago, if you want any info about taking the bus and or rail and or subway in la, you need look no further than the busblog cuz i wont bog you down with bullshit theories about “what if you wanted to go from A to Z” cuz i actually go there. and its not a big deal.

in india people ride on the outside of the trains, they ride on the top of the trains, ive even seen pictures of some very talented commuters riding under the damn train. right now if i wanted to i could get to any part of LA within an hour for free because i have a bus pass.

ok, maybe it would take a little more than an hour. and it is lunch time. and it might take well over an hour if things are fucked up, as they often are, but people are often times pleasantly suprised by where you can go and how easilly you can do it if you actually open your eyes and give it a whirl.

for example. today im eating lunch at the la county museum because its crappy outside and i like to be inside on crappy days.

if i wanted to go to the airport right now i could take the rapid to the red line, the red line to the blue line, the blue line to the green line and then the shuttle to LAX. only because i would have to change trains would it take me about two hours. and since one of the transfer spots is in Watts, its not the most popular route among the non-xbi crowd.

which is why i suggest taking the 720 to santa monica and taking the Big Blue Bus ($.75) to the transfer station by the airport and then the shuttle.

when i first moved here i heard that david byrne took the bus all the time, and i thought he was super cool for doing that. then i heard brian eno was the same way. then i heard that beck took the bus and then i heard it was just a rumor.

i think beck should go back to riding the bus. his shit was better then. elvis costello said he wrote most of get happy by taking the bus down santa monica blvd and just looking at the store fronts.

i think elvis should go back to riding the bus too.

i saw a great thing on shane mcgowan of the pogues last night on the sundance channel.

that guys so drunk all the time i hope he is always on the bus.

i dont know what i want to do with my life any more.

a lot of the people on the bus are mexican, and most of the drivers are black. so since im black maybe i should drive a bus?

what id rather do is drive a limo.

but what id secretly rather do is just write and write and write and write.

karisa called me at work, and then chris did, then jeanine did. i called karisa back but her sister allisa answered and i was all karisa? and she said no, hold on. then karisa said tony? i said hi! she said me and my sister are just sitting here by the pool and i said i cannot stand up. and i really couldnt.

the newly designed la examiner + hollywood mogul brian linse + some people do like my poems

the other night. but i don’t do this for the awards. i do this so the hot babes will write in and tell me that im the man.

ladies of the place im calling out to ya.

last night welch interviewed me as i did my laundry. it was fun. i heard myself on the tape recorder and i sound like an olde man on the tape recorder which might explain why the princess of sweden doesn’t want to have a secret affair with me any more.

she says she hates to admit it but it would be scandalous if we dated since im not swedish.

i told her that i understood, but that it was, of course, ridiculous.

i asked her to tell me that it was my bo or my thinning hair or the fact that i have thousands of baseball cards in my closets.

she said, no, that she liked me.

then she asked me to direct connect, so i direct connected, then she sent over a picture of herself and i said, please, i don’t think i could take any more.

the princess of sweden, you understand is very beautiful and we got along very well.

i told her that when i was in school sometimes i wouldn’t be able to date certain girls because i was Black, and once i turned 100 i wasn’t able to date other girls cuz of my age, but this was the first time i wasn’t able to kiss a girl any more because of national borders.

she said she thought it would be wrong. she didn’t want to deceive her family and friends.

i said but its something i cant control, my lack of swedishness.

she said she just didn’t think it was right.

so i excused myself from the chat and cried a little tear and then a different princess, the daisy princess called me and left a nice message on my machine but i doubted her intentions. i doubted whether she was truly missing me or simply jealous and hurt that i had written that i missed karisa and that i was about to say nice things about chris on her birthday and that i hadn’t said anything nice about her in a little while.

and then i microwaved a tv dinner because ive been eating like a pig, and then i typed typed typed on my computer in hopes that the webbys would pay attention to me one day.

oh, webby awards, i typed, please wont you notice me.

and then i cried a little tear, and then i fell asleep to pauls boutique

and i woke up to a line that sounded like

dumber than you’ll ever know

and ive been caught cheating like sammy sosa.

then i went back to sleep and woke up and remembered i didn’t need any princess of sweden.

that i was the fucking man.

and then i remembered that i really wasn’t.

the ward + fearful symmetry + sara called me cute