1) put your feet on the seats

2) laugh for no reason, and then say “shit, man”

3) drink coffee when the sign clearly says no drinking or eating

4) lay across three seats during morning rush hour

and i suppose 5) should be

5) dont say “what?” when the undercover xbi agent taps you on your shoulder

for that agent might be flashing you the handle of his revolver, as a courtesy.

aj spent the night last night.

always a strange situation when a sexpert wants to share your bed with you.

what do you do?

do you make the moves? do you not make the moves? do you try to show her all the great things you’ve learned since you were in college together?

or do you do as your hero did which was lay in the bed, hands at your side, sleeping without moving because theres nothing you can show this gurl that she hasnt seen already

and besides youre just friends

chill.

this morning we both woke at 7:30am after being up till 2:30am talking talking talking.

she has a belief that i will one day be able to teach Bukowski at uc santa barbara.

i dont even dare to dream those sorts of dreams.

but as my fellow busrider proved this morning, sometimes reality is what you make it.

happy 22nd birthday votexia + 9/11 commision report + roger ebert meets charles bukowski

she said dont start off by talking about baseball, you’ll lose all the girls.

two barefoots walk into a bar. first one says, have you ever felt like nothing that you will do will matter. other one says thats not the joke, tell the joke. first one says, and the world will keep spinning and the stars will come up and spin around and go down and still nothing you do peon will matter.

other one says whispering sorta, just say your line, want me to say it for you.

the first one says, the seasons will come and go, time will pass, floods, fire, famine and still nothing that you could have done will matter.

other one says in a way thats sort of liberating

first one goes ice ages plate technotics wait what?

other one says sure if all of what we’re doing is just gonna get mushed over by nature and forgotten by sentient beings then why stress out about bullshit little things like slow people at stoplights.

first one looked at the other one

a gust of wind pushed a low-reaching dry palm of a huge palm tree up against a metal awning rattling the tin for a second and then it eased back down.

a butterfly aimed for an oak leaf and missed

somewhere a car horn sounded

somewhere an eagle was flying with a dove

and a pony walked into a bar

and a bartender said what can i get you

and the pony said i would like a microbrew, the best you have.

the bartender said, whats that fella?

pony said a local ale please, doesnt matter which.

bartender says, bud, speak up or ship out what can i get you?

pony said sorry, im just a little hoarse.

raspil did a photo essay + oliver willis + bunnie

spaceland

july 20, 2004

i was picked up by two skinny girls in a convertable. one had long dark hair, the other platinum blonde with streaks of pink and grey.

the latter had authored the very popular lesbian sex secrets for men back in 2000.

the former had already broken into the absinthe before i could kiss her cheek and tell her how i’d missed her so.

i was playing the role of the luckiest man in america.

we drank we smoked we told each other how hot we all looked and i took a cold shower and shaved the stubble from my bald head as the ladies watched heavy metal parking lot, judas priest fans being interviewed in 1983 from landover maryland. both of my guests were huge fans of the band and the genre.

i came out of the shower and ms. goddard got any stray hairs from my head.

she and i were on the radio together back in the glory days of grunge.

music to us was everything.

what a joy it was for us to be in college from ’87-’91, be on the radio, write reviews in the paper, see the shows, and interview the musicians.

and i think she would agree that in the midst of nirvana + pixies + janes addiction + beastie boys + sonic youth + replacements, a stroll down the street of isla vista would yeild bands that were just as talented, creative, enjoyable and worthwhile.

bands like rogue cheddar, mons pubis, the sean white band, and the wonderfuls could have definately held their own against anything that was on the radio.

which is why its no suprise that tsar, a mix of mons pubis and the wonderfuls is so good.

tsar played last night.

it was the first time they did so with their new drummer chuck.

people asked me today how tsar was able to replace steve coulter, who quit la’s best unsigned rock group a few weeks ago.

let it be known that even before i heard my favorite band, tsar, on kxlu on monday night and watched them last night, i knew that you couldnt replace coulter

and everyone knows you cant replace coulter.

my other favorite band, ac/dc has yet to replace bon scott.

with that said, chuck played the drums better than i expected.

will he someday be the rock star that coulter is?

doubtful.

but i do know that chuck blazed through the blistering and complicated set last night like a fucking rock star, and thats all i really need from the affable lad.

john paul jones was in the greatest rock band ever and in thirty years he has never been mistaken for a rock star.

tsar, collectively, is rock incarnate.

three guys who have known each other forever, and a smiling next door neighbor drummer named chuck

they have an arsenal of catchy pop songs disguised as punk with guitar solos.

and still it was sad and weird not to see steve coulter up there

and it took many many many free jamesons for me not to notice his absence.

however, as aj and jeanine told me over thai in silverlake,

they could have done much much worse.

and then we clinked our beer bottles

and spilled a little on the ground for the brotha who wasnt there.

the coulter classic + steve’s birthday in 2002 + steve and heather’s wedding

well, if i cant get my dream job, i suppose i will work for the la times, get married, get a mini van, and sell out.

im almost 111 years old.

why am i fighting the inevitable any more?

theres worse things in life than coaching softball on saturdays and fighting traffic to make a school play.

its so weird how those of us who could have the american dream turn our backs on it and try to change the world instead.

in the long run how much more important is identifying the failures of the right (who harp on the misdeeds of Joe Wilson and Sandy Berger while ignoring the misdeeds of the President who is hiding 28 pages of the 9/11 report and Robert Novak who blew the cover of an undercover CIA agent) than raising good strong healthy moral kids?

and going to PTA meetings

and hosting bible study in the garage.

not like anyone cares about fair and balanced coverage in blogs anyhow.

plus, ive always wanted a dog.

a nice big old english sheepdog named Angus who would be too lazy to do much more than eat drink and sleep.

ive always wanted a big backyard with a treeswing and a hot tub.

im sure the la times could provide that to me.

and its not like the world is reaching out to america to be changed.

only problem is im going to have to wear a suit. which in this summer’s heat doesnt seem very fun. even if i look damn good in suits.

but its cool.

only thing im not crazy about is having to work for Tribune Corp.

however after all these years at the XBI, nothing could be worse.

one thing i promise i wont be doing is putting a My Child Is an Honor Student sticker on the back of our Astrovan.

and i probably wont blog.

but first i would have to find a wife, i suppose.

or stickier, putting up blog ads.

or something.

michele malkin + cynthia rockwell + souptree

they are about 10:30pm at Spaceland.

dylan’s band, Shapes of Race Cars will play a little before 10pm, and i feel bad cuz i dont think ive ever seen them.

then Tsar returns to the spaceland stage, which theyve owned since they came out in 1999.

this time they will be playing with a new drummer.

i dont know his name.

i did hear him last night on KXLU and it was impressive, but it could have been college radio trickery.

speaking of college radio trickery, our old pal AJ will be in attendence tonight. and i cant wait to see her.

in other news, anna kournikova and i are officially over.

i know most of you wrote us off a while back, but we’ve been keeping in touch on the dl, and yesterday i legally recognized her union with her man.

we were eating in some trendy place in los feliz and i got it. she loves me, but she doesnt Love me. she wants enrique, the pretty boy, the dude who will do all the little girlie things that i wont do with her, like walk in the park and hang out at her place, and blah blah blah.

needless to say i got it. im done. i hope she and her man live happilly ever after. and i hope he takes care of that shit cuz its good.

and when she drove me home i was a little sad.

so i said, can i feel you up one last time.

she said, over the shirt?

i said, yeah.

so she undid her seat belt and i gave them one last squeeze, and that was it.

trueboy + amy + this is a thing that is happening

for your buttocks

with miss montreal. she wants to go with her work friends and not with me. im all, you see your work friends every damn day AT WORK! shes all, you dont understand.

i dont understand.

i think the gay guys have it all figured out with their glory holes and their wife beater tshirts and their convertible vws.

and they always have great hair.

fuckers.

now miss montreal is trying to break our date.

fine. i wanted to see sonic youth anyway.

what i will do is sell my FLOOR tickets and let her sit up in the smelly balcony which is guaranteed to be balmy and sticky in the old wiltern, turn a handsome profit and take my black ass over to the henry fonda and rock out, alone, to the dulcet sounds of sonic youth

who have added a third guitarist.

for no good reason.

and who still have the best drummer in rock now that tsar have split ways with theirs.

tsar, of course, who are playing tonight on LAs only real college alternative station, KXLU 88.9 FM at 11pm

tsar, of course, who are playing tomorrow night as part of Pop Overthrow at 10ish at Spaceland in Silverlake with their new drummer whose name escapes me.

my phone wont stop ringing, america.

and its not you calling to tell me its gonna be ok.

i know its gonna be ok.

i just want it to be ok while i can enjoy it.

whats the use of it being ok when im in my Rascal, when i cant do much except take my cane and lift up the skirt of the queen of england.

im already old, but i have some life in me, and i want to rock it.

sonic youth style crazed and wild and different every time.

today danielle and i went to the grocery store. its a supermarket chain called Ralph’s.

because this is LA, in the fish department, they have a lady who will make sushi for you fresh right there.

danielle is super high maintenence which makes you think that she would squish her nose at supermarket sushi but nope she loves it.

still the gayboys have it all figured out and i dont know shit about anything.

sk smiff + nsfw bukkake + seven inches of sense

but yes, i fuck up too.

the reason that i would never be elected president of the united states, besides being black, is because i would get on the mic and say

it’s hard to believe, but yes, i fuck up too.

got some in vegas at the motel 6 across from the mgm, and thankfully not with a prostitute, which means my slump is over.

arrived back in hollywood after a nice seafood buffet lunch at the rio and got it on with clipper girls cousin who i havent seen in quite some time and did something with her hair that made me stare at her all afternoon.

sometimes you forget that you’re with a cheerleader until they stretch their arms over their head yawning and that slim little sixpack pokes out from underneath all that pink tshirt and oh is that a belly chain

and before the sun went down i was two for two.

90. seo book

how? luck. luck? good luck.

we drove over to her place afterwards and i saw her cousin pulling out. clipper girls cousin ran inside to get her overnight bag, and i talked to the real clipper girl.

we hadnt talked in forever.

hi baby.

hi tony.

looking good.

shuttup, nerd.

whats going on with you?

same old.

still with that man?

yes.

does he go down on you yet?

perhaps youre confusing me with your other ex girlfriends. he and i never had that problem, thank you.

well, uh, i thought i heard something along those lines.

you havent heard anything along those lines.

my apologies then.

your hair looks good. you have a good head for that look.

your booty looks good.

ok, im going.

when are we going to hang out again baby.

you mean do it? never. its over tony.

is he really that good in the sack?

thats none of your business.

moan twice if you miss me.

you know i miss you.

moan twice then.

no.

once.

NO!

i put my head close to hers. she was sitting in her car. she couldnt move her head anywhere, but she moved it to the side.

dont worry i whispered. im not gonna kiss you. and i put my nose behind her ear and let in the fragrance.

then kissed it

good seeing you baby, i said.

and waited for her to pull away

and waited

is it november + jim gilliam + dawn olsen

stillo invited me to caesars this weekend, and since i knew a suite was involved, i happily, accepted.

stillo, as you may have heard, is a high roller, a programmer, and a very talented card counter.

the arrangement is, if he gambles for two hours a day, everything is comped including food drink and a suite. and by gamble, we’re talking $100 a hand. which in blackjack can rack up quickly. especially for my man who has never met a double down he didnt like.

they also had a deal where if he gambled, im sorry i meant, played for three hours a day he’d get two suites.

stillo, you see, thinks its “gay” if two men shared the same gigantico suite.

fine with me, my own free suite in my favorite vegas hotel?

shit.

but as you know there are no free lunches. everything has a tradeoff. and even though im the luckiest man in the world, even i dont get to stay in vegas for free (i did have to provide for my (southwest) airline ticket, ($100 r/t)), eating their food, drinking their booze, and hanging out at the pool toplessly using their wifi laptops so i could blog to you, without having to pay some price.

stillo, lets say, isnt the most attractive young man.

neither of us are, to be completely honest, but somehow ive been able to catch a few breaks from time to time.

not so for our little friend.

so when he comes to vegas and stays at caesars its always interesting that there is a super attractive young woman

or two

at his arm drinking and laughing and gambling with him as he smokes his thin cigars and wins and wins, losing back enough to not appear greedy.

the problem is he wants a witness.

which, apparently is where i come in.

he wants someone to know that somewhere in the world he can pull the chicks.

and im all, dude, no offense, but theyre obviously hookers.

and hes all, nuh huh, i dont pay them anything.

im all duh, it’s uncle julius.

he’s all, who?

im all, dude, caesars, same guy who paid for this drink,

there was a knock at the door

and those steaks.

who’s calling us steaks, the one in pink said, twirling long fake ponytails on either side of her silver wig.

stillo knows i cant do hookers, for a variety of reasons from the bible to my overly safe sex practices, one that does not include whores.

but they were hot, so we went down to the club.

and we hung out and drank and talked and when the girls got up to dance stillo and i tried to plan our exit strategy.

you take em, im going to bed.

no no tony, theyre not hookers, betty really likes me. lets hang out some more. this is vegas!

i was all, broham, if i get drunk im going to have sex with a hooker and i dont want that. little tone doesnt want that, and any future tony doesnt want that. ive had my fun, im hitting the hay

and he frowned a frown that only a man who could find displeasure in being alone with two very hot very drunk and very sexy young ladies possibly of the night. and somehow i found myself in stillos suite in the front area, on a leather couch, stirring my rum punch while he popped open some more comped dom.

dude, im going to bed. what am i doing here?

tone, i dont know what to do either, but let me ask you, you dont want to be part of what’s about to come out of that bathroom?

my head said no, but my mouth wasnt.

we sat there staring at the bathroom door. two extremely good looking girls. all natural from what we could tell. dressed like hos but smart somehow. and normal. i was starting to believe that they just got off on being around action. and stillos gambling addiction slash card counting was action to these two sorta normal

oh my lord

they both came out in leather.

mine was dressed in a pink leather little bo peep outfit with baby blue taffetta hoop skirt. stillo’s was in black leather. completely except for two eyeholes. a zipper where her mouth should be.

im out, i esp-ed

stillo was ex xbi.

come on dude, he esp-ed back.

the drunken girls were trying to roleplay but kept breaking into laughter and stumbling in their ridiculously high heels.

bo peep dropped her champaign flute and cracked up laying on the thick rug innocently flashing us.

look, tony, its not like im asking you to do it with us. lets just party more.

what does that even mean? i thought.

and stillo said, hey why dont you girls make out, ive never seen that before.

and the girls listened, and then laughed. and little bo peep bounced up and crawled over to my leather girl.

unzipped her mouth

looked over at us

and then kissed her.

albino brain chiggers + flagrant + brown equals terrorism