i coulda won a lowered chevy citation, but you wont hear me complaining. born on a pontoon boat off frisco, i first met karisa at the dairy queen in mundelion. she worked the drive thru. she kicked ass at dipping your cone into the chocolate sauce and getting it hard real fast.

certified genius and future farmer of america karisa is the oldest of nine girls each born two years apart from the next.

her youngest sister is ten.

when i first saw her i have to admit, i thought, i could make a ton of money off that shit. but i was lazy and illprepared. she has a photogentic memory, the liver of a bear, the nerve of a backyard possum, and the strength of a nasty fart. but shes quick on her feet and knows eight languages so i keep her around in case i need verification that someone called me an asshole in mandarin.

people ask all the time and since im now married i can tell the truth and admit that yes ive kissed karisa three times.

the first time was the night that the patriots were handed that snowy playoff game at foxburough. i had 50 bucks on the raiders and i was forced to pay up but i didnt have the money so they made me kiss karisa who had been eating philly cheesesteaks with extra onions throughout the fourth quarter. this was during the time that she was smoking a pack of marlboro reds a day. more when she was drinking. right before she puckered up someone handed her a toasty warm slice of garlic bread. truth is more pungent than fiction.

after the count reached ten she removed her tounge from my mouth and a tear rolled down my face and they said dont cry the raiders will come back next year but it was the onions. onions always make me cry. i spit a tiny one at the tv and dabbed at my face with a viva.

you know that shit was a fumble.

afterward she kissed my cheek and whispered that the raiders just sucked and i needed to deal with it. and then she threw me into pool.

the final time we kissed was in a cab ride coming home from marc browns house after the zwan show on four twenty of last year. we were drunk off our ass cuz the mc had just tossed a rager and she and i drained every bottle of champagne in the house and i had done some damage on the captain morgans singlehandedly.

we were sliding around the backseat of the cab as he screeched around the corners of hollywood driving as fast as humanly possible and on the long stretch up vermont into the griffth park hills of her hideaway we realized that we’d known each other all these years and we hadnt really kissed. ever. not real ones at least.

neither of us wanted to do it. what if it ruined our perfect friendship. what if it came to the surface during an xbi mindreading. what if she, like all the others, fell in love with me and could no longer be trusted or counted on as a peer.

and before we could talk ourselves out of it our dude took a quick turn and we slid into each others arms and went for it.

and if i wasnt so fucked up that night perhaps i could tell you if it was any good.

which is maybe why i dont drink any more.

and maybe why karisa is always trying to get me wasted.

happy birthday rock idol home improver beastie girler do it yourselfer off road driver ms pacman loser.

maybe one day you’ll shed your shyness learn how to hold your booze and let your hair down.

until then i promise to keep photoshopping your pics so you look halfway hot.

happy birthday karisa, thanks for hanging in there with me

its always beautiful when you get to wake up with a pretty girl who goes down on you, lets you flip her over, and like wise you roll off the bed and act like animals as liz phair plays and the sun shines and the ceiling fan twirls and the sheets tangle and the birds chirp.

no way do i want to go to work today. no way is that girl topless right now pulling on her jeans and buckling her trendy white belt. no way will i be working for the xbi in two to three months.

i had a great long weekend. on thursday i got to teach at the greatest classroom in america. on friday i saw the pixies and had my mind blown. on saturday a gorgeous young woman made me a madras and sprinkled some ecstasy in there and i told her that i was feeling sick and she told me what it was and i was all, you….. and i smiled and she said what can i get you and i said just give me a second to shower and right there in the shower it came on and we walked to the grocery store for eight cans of whipped cream gummy bears and popscicles. we only remembered the nitrous. on sunday she left me a worn out mess flopped on the couch barely able to nibble on the french bread from the day before and drinking warm orange juice because it was so hot in hollywood this weekend that everything ended up being warm.

and here i am waiting for her to curl her hair and drive me to work so i can get yelled at for not being the perfect xbi agent that i never was. calgon has taken me away but reality has brought me back and im stronger and happier and better prepared for my departure from this stage of my so called life.

i am seriously as in seriously as in super seriously considering quitting this job and doing that photography experiment where i have a chair on hollywood blvd and a table that has a sign in book and a sign that says no talking and another sign that says smile and a bucket where people will give me $2-$20 depending on how im doing that day.

the xbi’s base salary is $25k because they know that we shake down all of the criminals that we catch. most agents make over $100k. because i have a “technical” position of flying chopper one, my base is $30k and i give everything that i shake down to the united negro college fund.

and i live fine.

$30k a day after taxes is $100 a day. which is 30 people saying yes i will let you take my picture here on hollywood blvd in hopes that it might make it into a tony pierce photo essay coffee table book and tipping me $3. thirty people a day on hollywood blvd. i think it can be done. call me crazy but i think it will be fun and easy. call me nuts but i think a tourist family of four would give me $10. call me nuts but i think a couple would give me $5. call me insane but if i got 5 families (5×10) 4 couples (4×5) and 7 randoms (6×3), i would make as much as i do now and it would be creative and fun and interesting.

of course it would also be dangerous since hollywood blvd isnt the safest place and i would have a $1000 camera and maybe maybe maybe a $250 photo printer so that these people would have something to take back home of their trip to hollywood california. and it will be annoying trying to convince all the hobos and crackheads that i cant speak (pointing at a sign that says No talking doesnt mean much when the urchin cant read).

and maybe after 100 pictures i can get a book deal. although i doubt it.

and maybe after 50 picures of celebrities i can sell some to whoever you sell those to, but i doubt that too.

and of course there will be a website called smilenotalking.com where people can set up appointments to get to meet the barely famous blogger who seriously lost his mind when he gave up his career of 3 years and traded in sure money and medical benefits in the name of art.

but you cant always sit around waiting for the man.

sometimes you have to go get him when hes not lookin.

my beautiful wife moxie + vacant + stephanie

the glass house

4/29/04

pomona, california

the job of a reporter is to go places that not everyone can go to and tell the story of what went down.

normally you shouldnt be jealous of the reporter.

but you will be jealous of this reporter and you should be jealous and its not normal but theres nothing normal about the pixies.

formed in boston but broke through in england the pixies were the overlooked gems during the grunge goldrush of the late eighties early nineties.

i first saw them on the janes addiction ritual de habitual tour at san jose state 1990. the lineup was primus the pixies and janes. then later in 90 at the ventura theatre. i remembered that they just sorta stood there and shoegazed like how many of their 4ad labelmates did at the time.

and even though they were making some of the most powerful and beautiful music of the time they did not sell very well, their videos werent on mtv, and you only heard “here comes your man” on the radio occassionally. this was at a time when pearl jam, stone temple pilots, soundgarden, nirvana, hole, and jane’s “been caught stealing” was on heavy rotation – even on the rock stations.

the problem was the pixies were too good. they actually had interesting lyrics, dynamics, intracacies, delicacies that the sledge hammer of grunge deafened everyone to.

primus’s “winonas big brown beaver” was better received than anything the pixies ever did.

and when they broke up there wasnt any public outcry, and when bassist kim deal’s second record with the breeders came out, nobody expected it to go platinum. but it did. and more people bought “cannonball” than all the pixies records combined. and when black francis changed his name to frank black and went solo, who would have thought that the voice of the pixies wouldnta sold as much as the blushing chain smokin feminine side of the group, and dare i say the unlikely sex symbol. but she is. i love her. i want her. and i dont know too many people who dont.

with that said the pixies returned to southern california today in a double secret undercover show. not even the glass house in pomona where they were playing would own up to it the day of the show.

when i called them to find out what the lineup was they said its just a party. when i called up to ask what time the first band would start they said 7. when i called up to ask what time the pixies would play they said 10:30. when i called back to ask how many bands were playing they said you must have the wrong number this is the glass house.

we got there at 8:30, my true love and i. pomona is only about 45 minutes from hollywood but there was a lot of traffic on the 10 east. 100,000 people were going to coachella to see 50 bands including radiohead, kraftwork, beck, the cure, bright eyes, the flaming lips, death cab, stereolab, and they will know us by the trail of the dead, international noise conspiracy, thelonious monster, air, the evens, belle & sebastian, the crystal method, pretty girls make graves, phantom planet, danger mouse, and kate sullivans second favorite band junior senior.

but the only band that most people really wanted to see out in the desert were playing a warmup secret show at a small club. tickets were $30.

the only “proof” i had was the word of a coworker who told me that his friend told her about it. i said so. then she showed me a picture of this guy hugging paris hilton.

i said so.

still i bought the tickets, even though tickets after ticketmaster monopolied my ass were $94 for a pair. how could i have a chance to see this band and miss it?

my true love drove, we saw all the punk rock kids gathering around the doors, waiting for their miracle ticket that never came.

the pixies got on stage at around 9:45p and it was like the best suprise party in the world. the glasshouse had been sold out but it wasnt oversold. everyone had digital cameras except me. one guy even had a hand held flash. it was 18 and over. no beer was sold on the premises. we parked for free in a public lot three blocks away. the crowd was half college kids, half college grads of 91.

there were pixies concert tshirts for sale for $20. april 29th isnt on the shirt.

reportedly jack black, juliette lewis, and harr marr superstar were in attendence. but the best people in attendence were the pixies. the class of 91. overlooked because they didnt dress funny or kill themselves or make kickass videos. overlooked because of the subtlety to their rock. and the power to their pop.

just like the mysterious popularity during the comeback and return of weezer, there is this, the return of the pixies who sing as beautifully live as they do on record. who play like grownups on stage even when theyre spitting out their camel lights in time to join a chorus.

the pixies have made a glorious and heartwarming comeback despite not having a new song, a new album, or a new video.

the news is that theyre back, and thats reason enough to celebrate.

and unlike this beautiful encore, tonight there was none.

like i said, perfect.

Bone Machine

U-Mass

I Bleed

Cactus

Dead

Number 13 Baby

Caribou

Craxity Jones

Something Against You

Isla De Encanta

Broken Face

Hey

Deabaser

Gigantic

Tame

Wave of Mutilation (UKS)

Vamos

Nimrod’s Son

In Heaven / Where is My Mind

jason vertucio + naked butt man + wayne soller