that said Write whatever u want 4 14mins and 20secs. I don’s care what u write jus be urself. KTHXBI! and then flowed me $20.

i wanted to reply back that i wasnt really asking for donations but then i realized i had always taken donations why not now and i also realized that i had her address so i could send her something in return because a post on a blog isnt really having anything, is it? is it? who knows.

i guess we’ve started. its 11:36 sportsfans and this is your pal tone rockin the m-i-c from high atop the thirteenth storie condo of a fine young thing that i found looking for a ride home. i said i might be going that way but i dont have a car she said thats cool do you know how to get there on the bus and i said yes so she said yes and when everyone says yes you know everythings gonna end up with a no somewhere the question is where and to make a drunk story short she still hasnt said no.

ive been in a slump paypal girl ive been in a funk ive been in a drunk ive been in a dump ive been to the mountaintop and ive found the promised land like 169 times but i get cockblocked by the weirdest situations and peoples and sometimes i even cockblock myself both intentionally and unintentionally and its only 11:39.

morrissey is on the itunes and i wonder if this girl is really flagrant in disguise. theres good nudes and bad nudes to anonymous bloggers and one is they could have been holding your hand all night beneath the flowing canopie of their four post princess bed in her daddys condo on wilshire. its a gray morning which meant that normally id sleep in but since this wasnt my place my body clock said get up foo you dont know who these people are and if they find you alone in their babies bed then they’ll think you raped her and ate her or something. 11:41.

ive gotten calls with job offers, little jobs. they could be good they could be bad i dont know what they are, i just dont want them. theres like five places that i would work for today and only half know it. how dumb am i how dumb am i. i remember getting my hs diploma thinking shit man the worlds my oyster which means i will place it to the side and eat the shrimp cuz i dont like oysters. then i got my college dimploma and i didnt even see it until ten years after on my mommas stairwell leading to the basement and i was all so thats what that looks like. in hs they gave us a wallet sized version whihc i carried around for years and years and that one i should put up somewhere cuz hs was a bitch. all you kids out there struggling, let me tell you this, keep your head down and go for the hole. its the hardest thing you’ll ever do. everything else is cake.

i ride the bus and i think i could be a busdriver i look at the cabs and i think i could be a cabbie. i look at the limos and i say shit i could totally be a private driver and id never even have to tell em that i know how to shoot a gun. thats it i tell myself i will be a chauffeur for some old rich family that lives in the hills and gets off on getting driven around by their driver and telling him how to improve on his place in life.

eleven fourty seven and i wonder if there are situations like that where they’ll give the guy a town car and a cell phone and feel good about calling me up day or night and say antonio, cuz that would be my driver name, antonio can you pick up misses at the goldblatts, i apologize i realize its early and id say driving your wife and your family is not just my job its my love and the old dude would laugh and say oh you.

eleven fourty nine and i forget how long im supposed to write this for lets just say something stinks in this house and yes its me but its probably the sink too. ooooh or maybe the garbage. speaking of garbage who the hell unleashed all this german spam? if youre gonna spam, lets get it together. spam us government secrets spam us science revelations, teach us spanish. teach us cuban. teach us how to cook better.

id love to get 113 recipies in my spam box that said viagra cake which in reality was actually a delicious bundt situation that you sprinkle some viagra in the batter, or if you dont have viagra substitute hershey kisses.

its 11:53 and time is up but all i have to say paypal girl is im procrastinating on something that since you gave me twenty bones i will send to you when im done making it. and i thank you for your generosity im lucky even if i have to type near a stinky trash can sprayed with barfed champagne.

abrasivist + the state im in + zulieka + iron mouth has great video of john bolton’s true colors

in a galaxy far far away, there lived three bad roommates in a house in atwater california.

the year was 1994. the beastie boys were recording their last great record a quarter mile away. my roommates were greg vaine, the finest lead guitar player in hollywood at the time, and jeff whalen who liked to wear david hasslehoff capes.

not everything was perfect in our lovely home. jeff and greg were working out songs for a band they were forming, i was lonely and dateless, and when the northridge earthquake hit we could all sense the pressure of being young bachelors in close quaters.

so instead of fighting i suggested that we go down into our tiny basement practice room and deliver angry rock covers to the gods as the afterquakes continually rollicked our abode.

after weeks of playing all the party hits we knew, we realized we had something. it wasnt great, but it was decent, and there was no pressure and no expectations. it was fun, it was dumb, and it was funny.

we called ourselves Chopper One after the news helicopters that reported on the madness that hit our fine city that year: floods, fires, and quakes.

we decided to play our debut to our friends in our home.

greg videotaped it.

dan kern and marc brown, among others were in attendence.

if you click the picture above of miss mexico, miss lebanon, and miss albania you will see us rip through lenny kravitz’s classic hit of the day.

the video is bad and the audio is worse, but perhaps you can witness some of what was, until now, the unearthed glory that was Chopper One.

or you could just click here

jeff whalen’s new band tsar comes out with their second cd on june 7

and yes, tsar is the band that youve seen recently in the new nestle crunch/napster commersh.

greg vaine‘s anniversary with molli is today. happy anniversary kids!

today would be his 103rd birthday.

he was a crazy mayor, but a great mirror to the city that i grew up in near.

here are some of his more famous quotes, and then a segment from a column that mike royko wrote when the famous Piccasso was unveiled in what is now called Daley Plaza made famous by the climatic finale of the film the blues brothers

I resent insinuendoes.

I’m not the last of the old bosses. I’m the first of the new leaders.

Don’t worry if they’re Democrats or Republicans. Give them service and they’ll become Democrats.

Even the Lord had skeptical members of His party.

Look at our Lords disciples. One denied Him; one doubted Him; one betrayed Him. If our Lord couldn’t have perfection, how are you going to have it in city government?

No poll can equal the day-to-day visits of the men and women of the Democratic Party.

Return to the fundamentals of politics – sell our story door to door.

Television and radio do a wonderful job in focusing attention on the problems of our society.

The Democratic Party is the party that opened its arms. We opened them to every nationality, every creed. We opened them to the immigrants. The Democratic Party is the party of the people.

The police are not here to create disorder, they’re here to preserve disorder.

The strength of the Democratic Party of Cook County is not something that just happened.

They have vilified me, they have crucified me; yes, they have even criticized me.

We all like to hear a man speak out on his convictions and principles. But at the same time, you must understand that when you’re running on a ticket, you’re running with a team.

We are proud to have with us the poet lariat of Chicago.

We as Democrats have no apologies to make to anyone.

We have to face it: in America today the way to have fun and celebrate is to break a store window and take something. That’s the way it is, today in America, and we have to accept it.

We shall reach greater and greater platitudes of achievment.

What is inherently wrong with the word ‘politician’ if the fellow has devoted his life to holding public office and trying to do something for his people?

Chicago Sun-Times
August 16, 1967
“Picasso and the Cultural Rebirth of Chicago”

Mayor Daley walked to the white piece of ribbon and put his hand on it. He was about to give it a pull when the photographers yelled for him to wait. He stood there for a minute and gave them that familiar blend of scowl and smile.

It was good that he waited. This was a moment to think about, to savor what was about to happen. In just a moment, with a snap of the mayor’s wrist, Chicago history would be changed. That’s no small occurrence·the cultural rebirth of a big city.

Out there in the neighborhoods and the suburbs, things probably seemed just the same. People worried about the old things·would they move in and would we move out? Or would we move in and would they move out?

But downtown, the leaders of culture and influence were gathered for a historical event and it was reaching a climax with Mayor Daley standing there ready to pull a ribbon.

Thousands waited in and around the Civic Center plaza. They had listened to the speeches about the Picasso thing. They had heard how it was going to change Chicago’s image.

They had heard three clergymen·a priest, a rabbi, and a Protestant minister·offer eloquent prayers. That’s probably a record for a work by Picasso, a dedicated atheist.

And now the mayor was standing there, ready to pull the ribbon.

You could tell it was a big event by the seating. In the first row on the speakers platform was a lady poet. In the second row was Alderman Tom Keane. And in the third row was P. J. Cullerton, the assessor. When Keane and Cullerton sit behind a lady poet, things are changing.

The only alderman in the front row was Tom Rosenberg. And he was there only because it was a cultural event and he is chairman of the City Council’s Culture Committee, which is in charge of preventing aldermen from spitting, swearing, and snoring during meetings.

The whole thing had been somber and serious. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra had played classical music. It hadn’t played even one chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

Chief Judge John Boyle had said the Picasso would become more famous than the Art Institute’s lions. Boyle has vision.

Someone from the National Council of Arts said it was paying tribute to Mayor Daley. This brought an interested gleam in the eyes of a few ward committeemen.

William Hartmann, the man who thought of the whole thing, told of Picasso’s respect for Mayor Daley. Whenever Hartmann went to see Picasso, the artist asked:

“Is Mayor Daley still mayor of Chicago?”

When Hartmann said this, Mayor Daley bounced up and down in his chair, he laughed so hard. So did a few Republicans in the cheap seats, but they didn’t laugh the same way.

After the ceremony, it came to that final moment the mayor standing there holding the white ribbon.

Then he pulled.

There was a gasp as the light blue covering fell away in several pieces. But it was caused by the basic American fascination for any mechanical feat that goes off as planned.

In an instant the Picasso stood there unveiled for all to see.

A few people applauded. But at best, it was a smattering of applause. Most of the throng was silent.

They had hoped, you see, that it would be what they had heard it would be.

A woman, maybe. A beautiful soaring woman. That is what many art experts and enthusiasts had promised. They had said that we should wait that we should not believe what we saw in the pictures.

If it was a woman, then art experts should put away their books and spend more time in girlie joints.

The silence grew. Then people turned and looked at each other. Some shrugged. Some smiled. Some just stood there, frowning or blank-faced.

Most just turned and walked away. The weakest pinch-hitter on the Cubs receives more cheers.

read the rest of royko’s column + runjenrun + jozjozjoz

deserves props
(nsfw)(at all)

the sun said to get on the bus.

the way the mexican blanket in the french window said oui get on the bus senior made it impossible to resist so the ipod was juiced up, the blogger was juiced up, the books were piled into the back pack

and the bus was taken.

yesterday was the 2 Sunset.

i often find myself in the gentrified los feliz area, but i try to keep it real south of sunset with clipper girls cousin who stays in lil armenia. shes hardly ever home and right now she and her cousin are on their annual vacation in hawaii to enjoy the playoffs with their teammates. cheermates. whatever they call themselves.

the 2 picked me up near vermont and it either goes all the way to gladstones on pch right on the pacific, or if its a short line it will take you right up in the center of uclas surreal campus.

being unchained and in whatevs mode for weeks now i didnt even look to see where we were going or care how long itd take. ive had the hardest time editing this unpublished book of stories, so what a better way to concentrate than howard stern in your ear as you bounce down sunset on an 80 degree saturday afternoon.

another man had joined me in my joyride and when we entered beverly hills he asked the busdriver, hey where does this bus go

this is the short line he told him

but i couldnt hear and i didnt care

ucla was the end of the line.

got out and walked through the east coast architecture sitting in one of the best neighborhoods in town.

acres and acres this thing stretches out for. miles even. miles of prime everything. realestate. history. knowhow. fame. fourtune. excellence.

and yet for some reason a graduate from ucla seems as commonplace as a a blonde in a miniskirt with a louis vitton clutch in the sunshine.

nothing wrong with it, per se, but, you know.

found some shade on a steep slope that overlooked a track n field competition. nearby a brass band was practicing. a fellow visitor who appeared to be from persia approached me and asked if i knew where the library was. she was beautiful and young. at ucsb we had eight libraries so i knew something fishy was going on so i said Como?

she left and i read my little book and thought about danielle and flagrant and ice cream and the hypotenuse of love.

got my reading done and walked to the village while wondering how great a shrink flagrant would be if she told everyone the absolute truth like in the diceman, which now i finally have time to finish, and after getting an ice cream, who did i run across eating an icecream sandwich with her two lovely friends, the hawaiian girl of three weeks ago.

looking lovely.

standing up to give me a hug, which is body language my friends. yes it is.

this is a very small town i thought be nice to everyone

im always nice to everyone she said

and again i had been caught thinking out loud.

congratulations bunny! + congratulations dogboy! + alecia

asked in the comments if i would once again be highlighting the miss universe pagent?

but of course.

the miss universe pagent and the busblog go back many years and theres nothing that could change that this year.

except for a bee sting

an infection of dmvlite on my beautiful computer

and some bad news from new york city.

all i know is i need to probably be reading the bible more cuz the man upstairs doesnt seem very happy with me for some reason.

could it be the obviously fallen angel who came over last night while i was dreaming, who looked so young in the blue glow of her cellphone, the only illumination in the room

not a blemish on her

not a mark

life had somehow swept around her as if a shield had been her windbreaker

and there she was above me

smiling

grinding

wanting

for not being a victim these things happen

to

me way more than i go out and make them happen.

in fact im not sure the last time i went to a girls house

knocked on the door

got her up to her room

convinced her of this or that

and closed the sale.

i went to work every day for the last four years, barely was sick a day. i did everything those people asked me to do despite the amount, despite the intensity, despite the reason, and i was let go

how is it that im getting now irish accents in my ear, red hair in the morning

a faint spritz of freckles

and buttered toast.

yes the busblog will cover the miss universe pagaent, but its going to be different this time.

one of the things that i learned from bukowski was the ritual of writing.

as much as i didnt like my last job, it provided me with a ritual, a framework, a pattern.

sometimes i would wake up a half hour early and id write

and sometimes i would get to work, read the email, knock out everything, get a bagel from across the street and some orange juice or apple juice and i would see if anything new was in my email box or on my voice mail, id knock that out and id take a 15 minute break to write

what was key about either the morning pre-work entry or the 15-minute break entry was that they both had serious deadlines.

i Had to be finished writing in the morning so i could get to work on time. similarily because i knew my boss wasnt crazy about my blogging, i Knew i had to be done in the requisite time.

all writers need deadlines. the best are the natural ones.

the second time that i would often write would be at lunch. when i worked in closed captioning, that department had a 30 minute lunch, in scheduling i had an hour lunch. when me and danielle were going to lunch every day, guess what, there were no lunch posts.

id write one during my PM 15-minute break. but the funny thing was, it didnt matter if i had a 30 minute lunch or an hour lunch, anything decent that i had to say would usually only take 15 minutes because the bummer about sitting at your desk during lunch is either the phone would ring or someone would stop by your desk or in between bites of burrito you might be dumb enough to check your email and see some fire youd have to put out.

the point is, though, my crazed work schedule totally provided small chunks of time where i could focus on something entirely different than what i was doing during the day, and it provided a climate ideal for writing.

at night at home id do photo essays or longer peices, but they werent much better than the quickie things at lunch.

now that i dont have any deadlines, and because im working on things that i care about, and not things that i have to do, ive noticed a decline in the busblog.

ill do my best to rectify that.

inbetween bouts of being victimized.

offline adventures + call simpleton + koganuts + james mcsweeney

make believe
geffen records

nothing in here is true.

the weezer and tsar camps intersect at one couple. and one day that couple had a party and i was lucky enough to meet and jam with rivers cuomo. in the famous garage of “in the garage.” making my life complete.

we played nirvana songs.

in my 111 years of existence i have had the pleasure of meeting lots of people. as in lots and lots and lots of people.

so many that i probably dont need to meet that many more.

no offense.

and that could be one reason that i hole myself up in my many mansions.

rivers was probably the most shy person ive ever met. and yet still at a crowded party he felt safest in a small practice space jamming out with a bunch of drunk nobodies on broken equipment.

weezer is one of my all time favorite bands and yet im not sure theyve ever come out with a record that i loved immediately. very few records do i love right away.

one day i’ll digitize the radio show i did in college where i played teen spirit the day it came out and i was all yeah that was nirvana but now weve got something so cool, ladies and gentlemen, skin yard!

when the replacements came out with dont tell a soul i felt worse than when i got fired last week. thats what sort of music freak i am. i leave so much out of this blog its insane.

but one great thing about blogging is that we have the chance to change all the rules.

one of the rules is once you write a review you have to stick to it, and if you change your mind you cant change it in less than a week.

well thats a dumb rule.

when i first heard the new weezer cd i was disappointed by how slow many of the songs are, how simple the lyrics were, and how bland everything came across. and i dissed it in this very blog.

what people dont know is i continued to play it every day including today.

there are parts that still make me wince and ive completely removed beverly hills from my ipod and itunes.

but

now that im listening to it for what it is, instead of what i had hoped it would be, what im hearing is a very sensitive man who made a quiet record that has its moments.

its simple. its minimalistic at times. and at others you get the feeling that he might just be bearing his soul.

i play it in the shower, i play it when i walk to the bus, i played it at my doctor’s office, i played it while i walked to the beautiful party that matt and emmanuelle threw for me yesterday.

i got stung by a bee and my face contorted something awful but in the end i recovered and one hot chick drove me home and another was waiting for me

and spent the night with me.

and i was all baby i have the best cd to make out to.

which we did for about ten minutes until i passed out since i drank probably a half a bottle of rum at the party because when i actually do hang out with people i love them. i got to meet sean bonner last night, and rick bruner, noah shachtman who had just written about my hometown cops in wired, and john woo and libya and maureen and jesus and helen from e! showed up, the always entertaining luke ford was in the house, as were many others including lyt lyt rules, mickey kaus of slate, ben sullivan of the redesigned science blog, os and kim, mc brown (pictured), and the hornbillsers starring lil baby bea.

very sweet.

when i woke up at noon i put the new weezer in my boombox and i took a shower that lasted two hours.

i might leave the house today.

a wide variety of remedies for bee stings + fook the people + whitey

today on the busblog

two hot girls called me this weekend to tell me that they had broken up with their dudes. one of the girls, actually, told me that she had broken up with her chick, but that chick actually liked being called a dude. long story.

anyway, my response to both of them was, come on over, let me comfort you.

and both of them, naturally, declined my generous offer.

one of them said that she didn’t want to be just another one of my women. i told her i had no women. she said ha and pointed to exhibit a, the busblog. i reminded her that nothing on the busblog was true. she said she knew half the girls i talked about on the busblog including clippergirl, to which i told her that clippergirl and i really sit around holding hands and doing very little else. to which she asked me if i was inviting her over to hold hands and very little else and i said sure come on over and we’ll play a little game called lets hold hands and see if we can do very little else.

she said she didn’t want to come over and play that game.

i said its cuz you know that you’d lose.

then the lesbian lover called not soon after. she said that she really wanted to be with a man since itd been so long.

i told her that until she found the man that she was looking for i would try to pretend to be one.

she let me know that i was indeed the type of man that she was looking for, but she wasn’t interested at that time, she just had read yesterdays entry where i disclosed that my computer was full of viruses and i could come over to her penthouse and use her computer if i wanted.

i said, i already blogged that night, that i didn’t need a computer, but i did need someone to drink with.

she said, its always about drinking with you, isnt it.

this is the glamorous life of a blogger, friends.

i said, no it isnt always about drinking, its mostly about watching sports. to which she asked me questions about love. about how she should go about finding real love this time. and i said if i knew those answers i wouldn’t be sitting around on a sunday night totally turned on and frustrated about to crack open another bottle of bacardi as my tivo paused the Survivor finale.

she asked me if my house was clean. i said yes.

she asked me if my sheets were clean. i told her that i had just done my laundry while watching the lakers. i told her that not only my sheets were clean but they were warm and downy scented.

she asked me if i loved her. i told her that i loved her perfect body and her brilliant mind.

she asked me if i would do things to her that her girlfriend wouldn’t do.

i told her that i would only do to her things that her girlfriend wouldn’t do.

she giggled and told me that she’d take a raincheck.

i knew that these girls just wanted me to beg. im too old to beg. plus part of begging demands promises, lies, white lies. i cant lie. biggest thing i wanted yesterday was just to fall asleep with a nice girl next to me.

she added that she thought that i was a little depressed and she wanted to cheer me up. easiest way to cheer up a bachelor, ladies, is to reach down their pants and whisper. crude, yes, but the truth.

truth doesn’t always hurt.

her long fingernails may have hurt a little bit.

got a second raincheck within an hour and unpaused the tivo, heated up some peas and a baked potato and watched tv alone

as the camera panned away

and pulled back

up into the sky

into the dark night

filled with twinkling little stars

and then nothingness.

internet movie script database + blogging la + wil wheaton

fellow project du’ers stereogum posed this question to their readers

I SAW ROCK & ROLL’S ________ AND ITS NAME IS _________.
Posted by stereogum at May 9, 2005 09:03 AM

here were some of the responses:

I saw “rock n’ roll’s” future, and it never even occurred to me, when Blink 182 opened for my band years ago.

Ack!
Posted by: Billy at May 9, 2005 12:14 PM

I saw Rock n’ Roll’s retirement home and its name is VH1.
Posted by: adam at May 9, 2005 12:18 PM

I saw rock ‘n’ roll’s downfall and its name is East London
Posted by: chris at May 9, 2005 12:28 PM

i saw rock & roll’s height of lowest common denominator exploitation and her name is gwen stefani
Posted by: somebody at May 9, 2005 12:32 PM

I saw Rock N’ Roll’s ‘taint, and its name is Fiery Furnaces
Posted by: Jonah at May 9, 2005 12:39 PM

I saw rock & roll’s _aging_flacid_penis_ and its name is _liam_gallager_.
Posted by: matthew at May 9, 2005 01:26 PM

I saw rock and roll’s blistery, puss-filled sex-change scar and it’s name was Christian Rock.
Posted by: drew at May 9, 2005 01:31 PM

I saw Rock & Roll’s birth certificate and its name is actually Rhythm & Blues.
Posted by: Presto at May 9, 2005 02:42 PM

i saw rock n roll’s younger zit popping pain-in-the-ass brother, and it was called linkin park.
Posted by: EasyP at May 9, 2005 02:44 PM

I saw rock n roll’s murderer and its name is clear channel
Posted by: nicky at May 9, 2005 03:04 PM

I saw rock and roll’s saviours from it’s own self-importance and its name was Tenacious D.
Posted by: GaryF at May 9, 2005 03:23 PM

I saw rock & roll’s future and it’s name was censored by the FCC.
Posted by: dee at May 9, 2005 03:24 PM

i saw rock & roll’s little sister and it’s name is smoosh.
Posted by: inchworm at May 9, 2005 03:40 PM

I saw Rock and Roll’s choice of wood stain, and it was Light Walnut.
Posted by: SC at May 9, 2005 03:45 PM

I saw Rock and Roll’s onomatopoeia and it was Air Supply.
Posted by: Topher at May 9, 2005 03:49 PM

I saw rock n’ roll’s bleating, malnourished goat and its name is Pitchfork.
Posted by: Andy at May 9, 2005 04:08 PM

I saw rock n’ rolls future on Friday and it’s name was THE MARS VOLTA
Posted by: mlf at May 9, 2005 04:26 PM

I saw rock & roll’s underwear and it had its name written inside.
Posted by: Tequila Red at May 9, 2005 04:37 PM

I saw rock & roll’s 30-year-long obituary and its name is Rolling Stone magazine.
Posted by: the management at May 9, 2005 04:48 PM

I saw this rock and roll generation’s anwser to Pat Boone and its names are Hillary Duff and Ashlee Simpson and Good Charlotte.
Posted by: Grimmone at May 9, 2005 04:49 PM

I saw rock and roll’s better sounding cousins for free on the internets and they were called Uncle Tupelo and Son Volt.
Posted by: wunderdog at May 9, 2005 04:59 PM

I saw Rock ‘n Roll’s playist on iTunes, and it had a inexplicable emphasis on Dogstar.
Posted by: Topher at May 9, 2005 05:43 PM

i saw rock ‘n roll’s new decaf blend of new order extra-lite and its name is the killers espresso roast
Posted by: marsh at May 9, 2005 07:06 PM

i saw rock ‘n roll’s saviour and it is the internet
Posted by: mat coz at May 9, 2005 09:07 PM

i saw rock and rolls spandex and it’s name was Van Halen….too bad they were the fucking best.
Posted by: The Bird at May 11, 2005 12:27 PM

read the rest + why would shane deny this? + paige + raspil