sometimes we get great ones.

and she doesnt look a day over 48.

i met karisa in the frozen food aisle of the Jon’s on La Brea and i thought to myself “that girl seems to be singing along to Poison’s ‘Something To Believe In’ thats playing over the quietspeaker, and she seems to be making a delicious meal for one, and she happens to be mildly attractive, and she appears to have a magic coming from her everything that i should investigate further.”

and then three fashion models pushed their carts into me, but i didnt notice.

and then three pirates swung by on ropes with knives in their mouths, nabbing the models and taking them home

and then three wise men asked me which row the frankenscense was in and i said aisle 666 bitch and said hey poison fan and she said hey cub fan

i was wearing my cubs hat

and we chatted and i asked for her phone number and she said i dont give my phone number out at grocery stores and i said good i wouldnta respected you if you did, how about parking lots?

she made shrimp scampi with a white sauce that made me remember my training back at the xbi up in isla vista. i wanted to tell her that i had never had such a scampi like that in nearly a decade but i couldnt because xbi shit you really shouldnt divuldge with strangers expecially if theyre about to pop open a second bottle of white zin.

but i did

because i trusted her.

something about her made me

perhaps it was the red sox hat on the teddy bear

maybe it was the skateboard on the pile of completly read newspapers

maybe it was the leapord skin brastrap peeking through her handmade tshirt that said masshole 4 lyfe

jay z was singing h to the izzo and i said its the cilantro. hows a girl from western mass know to put cilantro on the scampi

and she said

because tony pierce

i hadnt told her my last name yet

i know about eight things more than you do

and that night i learned how she knew my last name

and i found out how she knew how to make xbi scampi

and i found out how many bottles of wine on the wall it took her to puke

and even though we;ve known each other, what, fifty years now or some shit, she still knows a few more things than i do

which is one reason i love her.

of many.

and tonight im going to have dinner with her and her cali friends. i know her mass friends wish they were here with her. i know some of my readers wish they were here to eat with her, and lord knows johnny damon wishes he hadnt taken that 17 mil because now hes on karisas shit list and therefore off the evite list.

karisa and i have committed and solved many crimes. ive seen her make grown men crawl ontop of roofs and howl at the moon. ive seen her drive a four wheeler in a chinese dress with a camel hanging out of her mouth, but you know one sight ive never seen? ive never seen her beat me at ms pac man.

the reason the patriots are any good is cuz new england wants their favorite daughter back home

the reason the red sox finally won it all is cuz they didnt want her to forget about them.

the reason saddam got found in that hole that day was he was caught trying to get karisa to chat with him online.

so baby today is your big day. we’ve bowled together, we’ve rocked out together, we’ve snowboarded together, we’ve driven to mexico and frisco, we’ve hangglided off the hollywood sign when noone was looking.

we helped crash the internet that one day. we snuck all the wmds out of iraq just to make bushie look foolish and clear joe wilsons good name.

and now youre a wesssssider out there on the beach we dont see each other that much, which is why youve gotta quit your job so we can have long lunches at the standard with anna nicole and her crazy assistant, like olden days.

i will never forget the first time we really hung out at the great western forum at the slim shady show with mix master mike and those insane snowboarders who rocked the halfpipe inside the forum.

it was a sign that nothing with you would be even slightly normal, or dull.

im super lucky to know you and i cant wait to see you tonight so i can give you this cd i made that i know you’ll like cuz its got your boy snoop dogg on it.

happy birthday superstar,

tony

the death of pj + we once saw u2 + when she lived in the hollywood dell

by tony pierce, 113

pitchfork doesnt want to write about it. they didnt send anyone. they didnt talk about it. they want to ignore it.

stereogum wants to pretend like it wasnt worth it. they didnt send anyone either. they quote people who werent there who said it sucked and condescendtionaly asked their readers to wake them if they saw anything worth making it into the comments.

its tough being an indie in the city. you are always having to worry what clothes to wear and hop on fashion trends that make it look like youre not worried what clothes youre wearing, but imagine how difficult it is to call something a sellout or irrevelant when you have exactly the same sponsors on your blog as the festival did and you write about pretty much all of the bands who were at the show.

those who arrived early at coachella on sunday were treated to a surprise as they were herded through the acres of parking. madonna was going through her set. people were all, “that’s not madonna, thats a cd,” but every now and then you’d hear a curse word or an improv or a mistake and once you got inside the polo grounds you noticed that half of the field was roped off and protected by a line of security guards and police.

the material girl was indeed putting the last minute details into her first festival appearance anywhere and she was going to make it perfect.

hoards of people lined up next to the yellow tape and sang along to the hits. an announcement was made that 100 wristbands would be given to those who arrived first at the sahara tent 300 yards away, and each wristband would allow the lucky bearer into the special baracaded section right up next to the stage – basically the first ten rows.

this only fueled the early-bird crowd better than the gallons of starbucks that many were hopped up on.

once the music had stopped the yellow tape remained. and then after mrs. richie was safely in her airconditioned ride the tape went down and a stampede of fans hauled ass to the furthest tent in the field.

madonna had been heard but not seen and still her mark had been made. here i am. here i am. i make the fucking rules, even in this scorching desert.

it was hotter on sunday than saturday because both the angeles and demons wanted to check out her set, which many did ignoring all the bands in all the other tents that preceeded her.

what they missed was amazing. the octopus project from austin were first up followed by giant drag and be your own pet on seperate stages. the dears and mates of state played just as well as their predecessors, followed by the magic numbers on the main stage, ted leo on the outdoor theatre, and metric in the overflowing mojave tent.

it wasnt even 4:20 yet stoners and already coachella had given the people their money’s worth. the best, so far, were the suprisingly good be your own pet and the hyper and beloved metric.

then came matisyahu. dressed in black. bearded. looking a hundred years old. sounding like he was born and bred in kingston jamaica. soulful and sensitive but earnest and real. and genuine. as honest as anything the beastie boys did on pauls boutique and just as mindblowing. his band took the main stage and he grabbed the mic and there was no doubt that there was a star in our presence. true that star is a hasidic reggae superstar who skips and bounces when hes excited but if you got a problem with it, thats your problem, not his, since youre not the one rocking the mic flawlessly. youre the one with zinc oxide on the bridge of your nose sporting a brockabrella, youve got converse all stars with black socks who has to get back to working at hot topic in the morning. he, however is changing everything.

it was like being in church even before he reminded us about the tribes who found the light in the desert during days gone by. it was like being in temple even before he let us in on the insights of the promised land. and the music transported us to a tropical isle much different than our parched setting.

the set was so good you had to sit down afterwards. because im a lost soul i got a beer and asked everyone around me in the vip tent if they saw what id seen and they all said different things. one person said they saw a bright light, another said they heard an angel, and a third said they witnessed a horse growing wings and riding over the mountains in the distance as a rainbow leaked out of its ass.

then sleater-kinney came on and brought us back down to earth with their grungey raw riot grrrl snarl which you’d think would be respectful of the the goddess of pop, but you’d be wrong

s-k: hey how many of you are going to see madonna?
crowd: boooo
s-k: how many of you are going to see tool?
crowd: cheeeeerrsss
s-k: yeah i saw madonna in 85 when the beastie boys opened for her. yeah the beasties opened. that will probably be the last time i’ll ever see madonna. we’re so honored to be on the same stage that tool will be on in a few hours.
crowd: cheeeeeeeers

which led a mini exodus to the outdoor theatre next door to check out bloc party for a few tunes before trying to find room at the gobi tent, the smallest tent, to see the best stage show of the weekend, gnarls barkley who were decked out in killer/creepy Wizard of Oz outfits that mc brown captured beautifully.

when their set was done there were two choices: stick around to hear the mellow brazilian stylings of seu jorge made famous with his david bowie covers in The Life Aquatic where he did those tunes in portugese – or criss cross back to the main stage to see/feel/hear karen o and the yeah yeah yeahs as the sun set.

new york hipsters in their black clothes and pointy shoes have been wearing temporary tattoos of the yeahs for years, and lord knows they put on that life aquatic soundtrack when they find themselves in the rare predicament of being alone with a girl in their studio apartment, and again i insist that the ticket price had been more than paid for at this point, as had been the issues with heat and traffic and lines, because when karen o decided that she was going to plant her little freak flag there wasnt a mouth in the house that didnt form an o.

and people complained that madonna didnt start her set on time but some think it was because she was part of the 30,000 at the coachella stage being blown away by the emancipation of miss o: suddenly there was passion in chilly chill southern california – there was life in the barren desert – water had come out of rock – and manna began to rain from heaven. karens nylons werent meant to be ripped, her soul was simply spurting out from every pore.

so of course madonna couldnt start on time, how the fuck was she going to follow that, for even those who didnt see it could feel it clear across the desert.

but madonna was going to follow it. she had no choice. she would end up starting twenty minutes late. she had filler music playing over the PA as the tent heated up with what some people approximate as 3/4s of the 60,000 attendees squeezing in to see what they had never seen before.

all the flaps on the side of the tent were opened, the sun had set and even the breeze blew in for a good view. and as the music ended its track people cheered in anticipation and when it moved on to the next generic track they sighed. eventually they booed. for the exception of kanye on saturday, coachella had been running pretty much on time. right before people got too pissed some madonna graphics illuminated the big screens and people cheered and when madonnas opening beats of Hung Up blasted the boos evaporated in the heat and became cheers.

and when the spotlight hit the woman old enough to be most of the attendees mother they screamed, and they urged her on when she asked later if she should remove her pants.

madonna sang, she danced, she slithered on her belly and the crowd ate it up. hipsters and homos alike. that dance tent that had just been rocked by paul oakenfold and louie vega and the night before by hybrid, carl cox, the audio bullys, and daft punk had seen its share of dancing and im telling you Everyone was grinding with madonna on sunday – cynics and fanatics were one.

across the field the dulcet and beautiful mogwai were doing their thing and later massive attack would impress, but as much as i love the underground, it was the establishment who proved why she’s the shit and it isnt because of her publicist or because of any bullshit viral marketing ploy, its because in a setting of 95 acts, many of whom are cutting edge and raw and emotional, the cream does rise to the top and the bullshit does have to walk.

and maybe the biggest reason that the so-called indie bloggers didnt go to the biggest and best two day indie rock show in america was because they would have had to figure out how to say madonna’s still got it from beneath their shaggy bangs.

if only these geniuses would actually emulate those who they cover and show even a shred of the courage as those who they idolize, then theyd actually earn the cred they so painfully wish to acquire.

photos by mc brown + give the pants some love + fil woulda loved coachella

because not everyone understands tony pierce. or likes him. or has much love for the busblog. and sometimes i wish i hadnt ever told anyone about this joint cuz then i could just tell the true stories of the highway patrol and nobody would move and nobody would get hurt.

sometimes i wish my best friend hadnt moved to africa to save the world. sometimes i wish i had a shoulder to lean on.

sometimes i wish my shrink wasnt an xbi spy keen on trying to figure out if i am a loyal agent or criminally insane.

sometimes i wish i was a baller.

i watch the sopranos and i think about how things are in my secret life and how people respect me and challenge me and nobody takes anything the wrong way because they know that we all have the same goal – pussy and more pussy.

sometimes i wish i was born in the 80s or the 90s so id be too young to know what its all about alfie and i could just smoke weed and finger surfer girls and get upset when they wanna do coke in the bathroom with the waterpolo team.

i watch the sopornos and i think why cant life be that easy, doorbell rings, two chicks enter, two more chicks arrive and soon everythings in slowmotion and lovable.

sometimes i wish wrigley field was right down sunset but instead im cursed with palm trees instead of ivy and seriously sometimes you have to take what the fake tits give you. and i miss you.

of course ive considered the lillies, of course ive asked the caged bird to sing, of course ive asked myself, self, how did i get here but my self never has anything insightful to say, or useful, all it ever does is pretend its not there so i can believe in God more or ponder the universe but sometimes when im waking up from a nap or a day dream i see it flipping through my hustlers with its jaw dropped.

and sometimes i wish i was anyone else because no one else knows the pressure of having to eat teenage pussy at midnight on an upset stomach when all you wanna do is lay in a hot tub or sleep or watch the lakers in a blanket

and hide from the moon.

if you think im sad youre crazy, if you think ive lost it ive never had it, if you think im bullshitting about any of the above or the last one especially youve never walked in my hitops.

and to the airsign who drunk emailed me or the aussies or even to my man steve nash just know youve made me happier tonight because sometimes its the little things that count the most.

so to you, before i puke,

i toast.

alecia can finally drink + la blogstock + thought mechanics + raspberry

– above are the winners of the biggest tent competition
– here we have some san diegians including one in a bikini top
– then i interviewed four kids from Canada!
– then i met a campsite Guide
– then we met Sully the Director of Security
– we met a man from italy and a chick from santa barbara
– and here is mc brown riding his bicycle

but the facts keep piling up.

as you noticed i didnt blog yesterday. i was sick. on the drive home from coachella sunday night at 2am i had to pull over and puke. this is not normal for me. i didnt know why i was hurling but there it was all over the 10 freeway.

my passenger and coworker turned up the radio as loud as itd go and covered her ears because she doesnt even like to hear the word vomit or any of its alter-egos.

and as my burrito from this afternoon and bits of chicken from a few hours later expurged i wondered could it have been that turkey sandwhich i had just eaten two bites of from that am/pm 15 minutes ago? could it have been the coke i drank an hour ago?

and then i thought maybe it was the double rums no ice i drank while in the vip tent and the beers mixed with the 95 degree temps. maybe it was the scorching madonna tent where i stood rightupnextto tons of people who wanted simply a glimpse of the material girl.

but i didnt see any of those people projectile upchucking on the freeway.

im tony pierce, i kept thinking to myself, im king fuck. im not some douche from san diego who downed too many coors lights at the coldplay concert. plus i had a hat on. youre not supposed to get heat stroke if youre wearing a hat.

after the purging i felt a lot better but my passenger didnt. but we made it home safe and sound but i was beat. super beat. coachella wasnt just about laying out and enjoying the bands, it was work. i took hundreds of pictures, dozens of videos, i interviewed people, i hustled, i went to bed late and woke up early, taught people about buzznet, uploaded their pics and vids. it was work. yes i danced a little but youre supposed to dance at work.

yesterday i woke up dehydrated with liquified poop. that i didnt understand. sure the solid stuff came out of my mouth the night before but… well, lets just say i didnt understand it.

i drove into work to drop off some of the computers that we had used and the Day Without an Immigrant protest was already taking shape. the Buzznet HQ is right on the edge of McArthur Park so our little road was blocked but I got in somehow. I could barely stand up. I was happy that we had been given the day off since we wouldnt have been able to get in and out and because we had worked all weekend.

two of our guys were working though and i chatted with them for a few minutes but i needed some food/drink inside me. and i bid them adieu and planned on working from home. but as soon as i got home i hit the couch and passed out. i woke up in time to catch the end of the cubs game and i ate something. during the clippers game i felt nautious again and up it went.

w to the t to the f, homeboy? i am the man of steel. i am the head blogger in charge. my days of having a sensitive stomach are long gone, and quite simply this is unacceptable. and right after the clippers dusted off the nuggets i found myself asleep again.

at 2am i woke up, brushed my teeth got to bed and was out again! at 8am i woke, felt refreshed. felt strong. right after i brushed my teeth my landlord called to tell me that he couldnt replace my faulty refridgerator yesterday because he couldnt find a “worker” in the whole city, and asked if i could be ready around 10am because then i would have a new(ish) fridge.

i called mc brown to see if it was cool that i wouldnt be into work until noon. he said fine, and here i am uploading vids from coachella and writing to you.

i feel way better and im ready to get on with the get on.

and unless you didnt know, i did everything for you.

funny tshirt 1 + funny tshirt 2 + funny tshirt 3 + funny tshirt 4 + danny devito

in the meantime, enjoy thousands of pictures
and dozens and videos of coachella… with more to come

perry says hi

but then it takes another half hour to get to indio where coachella is.

we got to our little tent and set up and got a ride to the area where the bands would be and where goldenvoice is, and we got to meet the artists who are decorating the dressing rooms. each band gets a different peice of art. very cool.

then marc noticed all these paul frank bicycles that were locked up. above them was a little sign that said “you must sign out if you are going to use a bike.” so marc asked where can i sign out two bikes. and they gave us bikes and we biked around over to where the campers were camping out.

the camping area doesnt allow any booze but there was a huge drinking area where you could buy beers. that area also had food areas and two different places to take showers. at only 6pm a surprisingly large number of the 12,000 who bought tickets to camp were there.

we met the dude running the security of the camping area. this is his second year there. he does the warped tour. the cops camp right on the edge of the place next to the entrance and exit, so its safe. and there was a huge inflatable movie screen that they were going to play movies on tonight. including the new coachella dvd which woudl probably psyche me up to see right before i went to sleep under the stars of indio.

then we found ourselves at the goldenvoice aeg bbq dinner. we ate with the aeg guy who was about to go to new orleans for jazz fest. he was very cool and his wife and daughter knew tons about music. we ate chicken fish and steak as depeche mode warmed up down the hill. allegedly last night tool went through seven songs during their sound check to an audience of about 15 as the sun set.

alot of people are here to see Tool.

did i miss the boat on Tool?

it was about 93 degrees today but it cooled down nicely.

we’re staying at marcs uncle’s winter house about rancho mirage. the pool is very nice and the hot tub is warming up as we speak. if im going to retire one day i believe i will buy a house with a natural warm springs. i know of one in santa barbara. i think i’ll have to start saving up for that shit.

when sun went down the lights of coachella were lit and it was beautiful. gorgous lighting on the palm trees. spotlights shooting up in the sky forming a canopie of a half dozen arching rays of blue over the crowd below.

met a man who confided some personal details with us regarding one kanye west which i chose not to believe.

currently we’re waiting for the rest of our party to arrive. our three content editors who are driving from hollywood where they attended the secret afi show.

its 148am and im exhausted. ive loaded pics and videos for your ass.