more glorious? more sunshiny, warmy, springtimey, luscious, delicious, mouth wateringly wonderful?

it’s the cubs home opener, too.

why aren’t you here?

if you were here id ask for the boss to let me off early, like at noon, and he’d say, tony, because you’re the fucking man, sure. and then put a $20 into my front shirt pocket and shake my hand.

if you were here we’d take the 720 to santa monica beach and squirt water into the clowns mouth at the pier.

and then let the clown chase us cuz i do that shit to him every day off.

if you were here we’d rent mountain bikes and coast down venice boardwalk taking a swig out of our flasks every time we passed someone we’d do. then we’d eat buck hot dogs and watch the elderly play paddle tennis.

if you were here we’d then go to muscle beach and watch the gay guys flex for the tourists, and the brothas slam for the sistas. we’d try on sunglasses and buy tube socks from the chinese. we’d buy bootleg dvds of chicago for ten bucks, but we’d talk them down to seven pretending we weren’t american.

if you were here we’d eat fish tacos from a roach coach where the mexicans crouch in the shadows of an old brick building the way that they do. i’d put on too much hot sauce for you and you’d scrunch your face after you tasted it, but id say it puts hair on my chest and id lift my acdc shirt and you’d lift your tsar baby doll tee and the mexicans would fall over spooking the seagulls who flap away to the safety of a busstop.

if you were here we’d get two forties of mickeys, take off our shoes, and walk in the sand to the nude beach and pass out after the rasta dude passes us and we laugh and laugh off the contact high and then bake in the california sun.

if you were here we’d wake up burnt and drink the rest of our warm beer cuz you call it alcohol abuse if you waste any.

if you were here you’d get a henna tattoo that said tony in such crazy cursive you have to stare at it for like ten minutes

which is always your secret plan.

and then we’d start a band.

dirty fez + roxy cat + splink + dullest blog ever

so i walked to the undercover xbi post office. it’s disguised as a massage parlor. you need an appointment.

hadnt been there in a while and lo, two nice gifts. one was a nice postcard from a girl who signed her name and lipstick kissed it.

the other was a package with a local free weekly, one polaroid, a printed picture, an xray of several teeth, and a copy of a birth certificate. and a very sweet letter with penmanship that obviously took a lot of time to master.

im not worried about anthrax any more. homeland security has our backs.

talked on the phone with several people. chatted with several more. for some reason im opening up more. how long will this last? hours, if we’re lucky.

im watching american in paris. not for the singing or dancing. for oscar levant.

i was reading his book not too long ago, memoirs of an amnesiac. loved it. that guy was so funny. terribly smart. brilliant pianist. gershwin’s drinking buddy. always had hot chicks even though he was never confused for handsome.

do you know im getting carpal again?

do you know i dont give a fuck.

talked to a guy about bukowski today who said that he didnt like him because he sounded too much like hemingway.

never heard that objection before, but how do you argue around it?

i was reading crime and punishment on the bus today. made it to page five and realized that everything they taught me at santa barbara was right. the russians knew it all. they have all the secrets. they were on to something.

remember when the bicyclist from breaking away started talking italian to his momma and poppa. i suck at languages, so i will settle for wanting to write like the russians.

theyre going to be tougher to steal from than hem and buk and royko and ee and jd and sukenick.

its not as easy to see their brush strokes, to see their source code, to steal their signs, to esp their most innermost thoughts.

ive seen the prettiest girl at the xbi now four days in a row and every time all i can do is smile like a retard.

you have no idea how terrible my hair is growing in, or not growing in, depending on where youre looking.

went to dennys and they gave me the senior citizens menu.

cubs got snowed out of their home opener today at wrigley.

just another sign that hell is freezing over and the cubs are going all the way.

sorority girl in handcuffs + watch alecia turn legal + ham fisted theatrics

and it looks like this week will only get more crazy.

do you want your life crazy?

i dont. i want normalness. happy normalness.

i say that now, but when i had it it bored me.

i had a beautiful life, a pretty wife, no kids, good friends, great restaurants every where. i was making $50 an hour. she really wasnt my wife which made it even better. i had thousands of compact discs.

we had a two car garage and a washer and dryer and a dishwasher and 100s of channels on the television.

and at some point i grew bored of it all and at some point now i want it all back.

ah the yo yo of contentment. look how we can walk the dog.

i dont even know what i was searching for more of, precisely. it certainly wasnt fame money women power.

sadly, i think it was something spiritual.

i say sadly because i sure as hell havent found that. not that ive been looking all that deeply. but sometimes you get lucky.

ive gotten lucky in other ways, and maybe because i havent had massive shitty crap dumped on me, then maybe i have found a little of the spirtual goodness out there.

a few times during the many moons that you and i have spent together i have ascended to the tippy top of the highest highs and i believe that a majority of those were due to the generosity of a kiss from a fair maiden.

or was that from listening to kiss, fair warning, or iron maiden?

hard to remember, being 109 like i am.

snow at wrigley today made for a non-home opener for the cubbies today.

meanwhile here in paradise its in the 70s with clear skies. tonight expect scattered gummi bears and a slight chance of joy.

44. joh3n

45. steve

46. lago

the hilton sisters are bloggers

I’m impressed.

I used to glance over it once in a while when somebody said something special, but I never knew exactly what the mass appeal was.

Well now I do.

– Mallory, insightexperiment.blogspot.com

i got a phonecall from raymi today.

i was about to write Joh3n and thank him for flowing the busblog, and notifying him that i would link his name above anna starting tonight.

nobody had flowed all week, and i was happy to see that the little promotion had done its job.

and then the phone rang.

my phone rings a lot but this was a name that i had recognized, united airlines skyfone.

it was raymi the minx telling me that she was going to maui and she was going to live in a condo there and that i should call her every day.

i told her it would be my absolute pleasure.

she told me she was an actress and an author. she said that my voice sounded different than how she expected.

i said how did you expect it?

she said, oh hi im mr. super famous blogger guy.

and then she talked a little more. she told me many dramas around her life. some made me sad. she reminded me of courtney love.

her voice was raspy and she said it was because of the drama, but it sounded good like that. keep it.

she said she was flying to maui because some of the best karoake places are in hawaii and she takes that shit serious.

then she told me that she edited blook!

all i gotta say is this, if raymi will edit blook two, i will make blook two.

for your ass.

got back to the computer and saw that Steve had flowed as well.

thanks, steve.

for your collective behinds which you can now find .

one of these days i’ll get a peice of software that will let me compress the images a little more so that there wont be such huge file sizes.

my girl teresa says that shes on a dial up, and i forgot that people are still using dial up.

if i was president i would wire the nation. or make it wireless. one or the other. but nobody should still be having to surf the internet using a modem in the year two thousand and fucking three.

hows a man supposed to make a photo essay if he has to worry about people downloading at 56k?

do you guys have the new white stripes record yet? kate sullivan says that it inspires making out and throwing off of clothes. i have taken two showers with it so maybe the latter is true.

she complains though that because its a double lp that it will cause lots of troubles while making out.

i think the opposite is true.

usually during nice long sessions, it’s good to get one’s breath and reassess the situation. and theres no better reason to call for a twenty second time out than to flip over the red record, or put on the white one.

this gives one time to light up a smoke or take a quick sip of “water” and then dive back into combat.

before the time of mp3s i invested in a sony two hundred disc cd player which came with a remote control.

sometimes i would take a quick break to find and use the remote, but that can come across as a huge buzz kill, and a good boy scout should have prepared a good program order.

now with the advent of winamp there should be no excuse that you wouldnt have 100 tunes lined up starting with the mellow, peaking with some speed metal, and winding down with the slow jams. and yet many times, even with lots of heads up, i am usually bumbling with cds at the last minute asking if one mediocre cd is better than another.

eventually weezer will end up in there, or bjork, or floyd, or the jesus and mary chain, or madonna.

i like putting in the tunes ive never heard before the best.

with someone ive never really known before.

or with someone who’s always new.

katie hall drunk! + splink + new zealand news + linda

p.s. first person who flows the busblog ten bones, gets their link above anna for next week. no pressure, just saying.

[update: John3 wins!]

1. why are you here? it’s saturday.

2. how did you get here (blog, site, bookmark)

3. what are you looking for?

please answer in the comments.

thank you.

thats nice.

she wants to meet me when shes drunk too. thats very nice. smart, really. maybe i can be drunk too.

sorta like a blind date, except a drunk date, where both parties are wasted upon meeting.

who would i get drunk with first though? my fluffer, as it were, though in this case, my drunker.

nomally, i suppose, i would have said catherine zeta-jones, but she is with child right now, so shes out.

i believe jodie foster is knocked up too, which is too bad cuz i hear she loves to party.

once a long time ago i had a two night stand with a girl in hollywood.

she reminded me exactly of the character of that crazy chick in fight club, she almost looked like her a little bit.

but identicaly like her in almost every other way.

id like to drink with her before i met raymi. where ever she is.

once i asked her to the movies. i said, hey wanna see something about mary?

she said, no, i dont want to see something about mary.

i was all, but matt dillon.

she was all, romeo, come to my house after you go see your something about mary, and bring drinks.

then the other time we went to the lava lounge first and got wasted off blue drinks and stumbled back to her limo.

ive seen a few things in my life, north americans.

and for the most part, ive hung in there without making too much of an ass out of myself.

a lot of credit has to go to the fact that i was fortunate enough to have several years of higher education.

knowing how to drink is a valueable skill, and because of that my children will definately be attending a party school.

my first real job was for a multi billion dollar conglomarate. they flew all of us young guys out to headquarters and got us drunk on the river.

smart thinking because the booze became truth serum.

if a guy was obviously drunk and was cool, then thats a cool dude. good pick.

if a guy was an asshole drunk, look out. mostly because in the sales biz you end up drunk a lot.

in college if you couldnt skateboard drunk you were worthless because they had recently passed an ordinance that said if you got caught riding your bicycle drunk you could lose your drivers license. which makes no sense, but it forced us all to become world class skaters.

the bums skated. the stray dogs skated. whole gangs skated.

once me and my buddy chris were poisoned by these well meaning hippie girls and we were hallucinating so much that we thought we saw a fox trucking down the sidewalk and i said to chris, much later, dude, was that a fox.

and he said yes and i think he was on a skateboard.

i think i would like to watch strange brew with raymi and drink every time they say beer.

jim treacher + moxie + sumo pop

that i really should tell you about, except im having a hard time concentrating because theres a very sexy girl walking around the control room here in super low cut jeans, a sparkely belt with stars, and a semi belly shirt.

dont people know that we’re trying to fight some serious crime up in this peice?

k, so anyway, got out of the house early again this morning in hope that my lust interest would be near my work so i could get her number like i should have yesterday.

got down into the subway and theres an announcement. Lord only knows what they were trying to tell us because everything that comes out of that loudspeaker sounds like the teacher from Peanuts.

all i knew was the subway train was stopped and people were asking each other what the fuck the lady said and the train wasnt going anywhere.

soon everyone was being told to leave the train, that another train would be coming on the other track in a few minutes.

hold on this gets way better.

so we all got off the train, and since im mr. camera picture taker dude, i took pics of all the people waiting. click. click. click.

then i see three paramedics taking somebody up the escalator on a stretcher. click.

then the train came and we all get on and i see a big black dude with a clippers jersey with huge arms and on one of his biceps i see a terrible tattoo that i really wanted to take a picture of but this guy was a little intimidating so i didnt steal his soul.

which turned out to be a smart move on my part, because there we were on a super jammed up train and suddenly clipper fan is yelling at a homeless man for taking up two seats with his homelessness.

homeless man, who we will call george (cuz he was black and dreadlocked like George Clinton from P-Funk) wakes up startled hearing clipper bro barking at him and moves his bag of crap and gives the double peace sign.

but thats not enough for clipper fan who keeps staring at him, so george stares at him back.

Black people may not have money power priveledge but we do have pride.

Clipper fan, asks george what hes staring at. all black folk know thats a trick question, so he doesnt answer.

clipper fan asks it again and again and then again.

the formerly overcrowded train suddenly has lots of room for people to get out of the way of what is about to go down, namely a young strong black man pouncing on the weak old homeless prey.

a mom takes her four year old and puts him on her lap. he starts crying cuz he wants to walk around. everyone is quiet. some white guy reading john grisham pretends to read as he walks away from the drama. me im thinking i need a camera that attaches to my forehead because this shit is good.

then Clipper fan reaches into his back pack and keeps his hand in there, bicep flexed, looking bigger than ever.

do you want to die, nigga? he asks george.

homeless man thinks about it.

i said, do you want to die, fool?

george nods to the affirmative!

all i could imagine was bright red blood and brains all over the bulletproof glass window of the metro car.

do you know who i am? Clipper fan asks.

whole time im thinking im undercover, i cant blow my cover. i dont think this dude has a gun and even if he does i dont think hes gonna blow this dude away over being stared at so i play it cool. just observing. reaching into my backpack. i will run at him, shoot him point blank in the nose. i might hit someone else but whatev, xbi bitch. then i disarm him then i will run away up the escalator.

i axed you if you knew who i was, nig-gah!

george shook his head no.

im a young wild black fool with nothing to lose and i will pop you right now.

we got to the stop and the doors opened.

it was my stop.

i couldnt radio anyone cuz i was beneath the fucking crust of la and i was in the second to last car on the train and the dumbass metro drivers never do anything if you run at them waiving your arms, so you know what i did?

i got on the escalator, walked up to the surface

and then i said a little prayer for my bro george clinton and the sleeping man in the seat behind him.

lynn + meigan + im hose monster’s hero