i do. why wouldnt i? sure youre a fuck up, and sometimes mean. and sometimes impatient and stubborn and fugly and dumb and anxious and talentless and dull, but hi, who do you think youre talking to?

i bowled today loved ones. i bowled my damn ass off and i got drunk. im in a traveling xbi league. this week we played at an alley in santa monica where the rat pack used to hang out in, upstairs, who have bottles of bud that looks like bowling pins. a lane karisa and her roommate and i bowled at many moons ago and where i once took a date when i was 18 and new to cali.

three games we played and they had a little thing going on where if the head pin was red during the third game and you rolled a strike they would buy a round for your team.

well, the xbi might be a group of cynical reckless overtalented superheroes who have lost the will to give a fuck, but we like to bowl. we had about 30 people there representing. and our group was a little slower than the others and we could hear this group and that group cheer and gasp when someone on their team had a chance for the free round and either got it or didnt do it.

the team we were up against were former crips from long beach. they had none of the fundamentals that are so necessary for a good score. but one of the wonderful things about bowling is that on any given frame, anyone can get a lucky strike.

anyone.

and sure enough, bro gangbanger named smurf, who slopped his way through two subpar games hiked up his sean jean baggy shorts and his team watched him and he stumbled to the line and then over it and the ball curved slightly and

erruption.

free beer for the lbc.

it was nice.

i started with a 117 but that was only cuz the homies brought this tight little thing who had a back shelf you could put your boom box on if you wanted to listen to the lakers win.

second game i got four strikes in a row and then laid off to coast into a 171.

respect is everything.

third game second frame there it was for me

red head pin.

i was using two balls, just like how the pros roll

i had my 8 pound gold beauty lane ball that i paid $20 for at the eagle rock lanes.

i was also with my 11 pound real ball that i “won” off pioneer spiffs when i used to sell tvs at sears.

that one was blue.

old blue was reliable and strong but in order to prevent soreness in my pitching arm ive been using the girlie gold’n which youd think would be pleasurable to whip down the lane like a maniac but in truth its (lack of) weight allowed it to be soft tossed half way down the lane for remarkable accuracy since very little rolling was involved and therefore less chance of change of direction.

basically you were playing darts or bozo buckets.

171, bitches, and it coulda been 2 if i hadnt been completely showing up hardened south central gang members in front of their heavilly drinking

and losing

brothers

so there was the red pin and i got the gold ball and tossed it far and they all went down

except one.

fuck

r

i had fun. we all had fun. i think our team was winning. whatever.

seventh frame there was that red pin again.

everyone gathered round and the thing is you had to get the lane manager to watch to verify it and that took forever and i was holding the ball and i was losing my buzz but if theres one thing i love its pressure.

got the old big ball cuz they say that the light ones dont give you the pin action and the heavier ball didnt ever feel heavy tonight

and it started on the right and it slurved to the left and hit the head pin on the left and they went down

and the cheering was great

and the man asked for my drink

and bar rum is one thing but bowling alley rum

it didnt matter though

and now i love you.

dehumidifier + capt. scurvy + spitcircle + and vanmega made a bowling photo essay

thats all i gotta say about that.

hot chick had plans to paint her nails with her best friend tonight.

its tough.

talked on the phone a bunch tonight when i got home. only ate a tv dinner. chicken parmasian. cost a buck. i worked twelve hours today. lots of people do at the xbi.

im getting tired of it.

if you knew how little i got paid youd think so little of me.

and then if you saw what i did for it, your mind would be blown.

i keep thinking what job i could have that would be better and i think any job would be better. then i think what job would hire me and i think

nobody would hire me.

i got a ride home today cuz it was so late and i passed a school and i thought, school teachers arent still at school till nine pm and i thought sure they are, theyre grading homework and shit.

but our youth is what its all about, isnt it?

what if our president had actually been raised right? what if he had even one really good teacher that could have taught him that you cant get on tv and say

“this economy is strong and getting stronger”

when youre in the midst of the biggest deficit of all time.

i hear the voices of my old teachers all the time.

sadly i hear the voices of the bad ones too.

maybe we dont make the difference in the planet that we wish we could, but in little ways we do make a difference.

george bush is a fucking retard and look at the little differences he makes.

some dumb numbers + welch + layne

and canaduh. and the rest of the free world. i know, f the free world. what movie was that from. i just saw it again this weekend and now im forgettting it. momento. i have the worst momento.

but you know what i remember? i remember deals. and i had a deal with some people and most of them have kept their sides of the bargain and some are in the process of keeping and when those are done then new bargains can be put in place. how hard is that? seriously?

one thing im not so crazy about this generation is that people dont want to live by their word. and they want to try to boss people around. and they fight dumb fights and they fight them dumb. me, i hardly fight. some loooove to fight. omg do they ever. some love fighting so much that they enter into things that arent even fights just so i will pay attention to them. well those people should just chill cuz im not gonna pay attention to them cuz i barely have time to pay attention to the nice people, why should i waste whatever time i do have on the dumb? riddle me that. f the free world. still i dont know what movie that is.

people call me on the phone. i barely have any time to talk. people chat with me on the chat. some nice people. i dont have any time for them. some email me. some i actually get. i do my best to email them back. i dont lack time because im some super cool stud boy. i lack time because i get pulled at from all sides. i cant even catch up. do you have any idea what people think i am? they think i am something that im not. but i try to live up to it and its rough. especially when i am trying to be a good person. and to be honest kids, sometimes being good means living by example and being the epitome. and sometimes being good means keeping people to their word and i never told anyone exactly When i was going to live up to my end of the bargain but i did imply it would happen before the first issue came out and that issue isnt out yet so im still good so those people need to chill. unless they want to be considered something negative.

i dont want to consider anyone someone negative. i want to believe that the only bad people in the world are bad people. i want to think that people who share similar interests etc can see things for what they are: dumb. and that life aint nothing but bitches and money, but some people are so fake sensitive that they wouldnt even let you get away with that and you know what i say to those people. you know what i say to those people. i say f the free world to those people.

i dont like it when people who used to like me and what i write and would tell people to read me suddenly overnight draw up campaigns to try to fuck my shit. i dont like it when hangers on hang on to the negative. i dont like it when people who cant even pee straight come into my house and piss all over the floor because theyre not getting what they want at that time. heres what i suggest to them, if theyre not just attention whores jealous and angry that ten times the people read my shit than read their shit, they should then chill. as in chilly chill as in shut it as in cut it out as in clam up as in ixnay on the bullshitay.

or they can keep it up and be painted as phonies who really just want the attention that they cant get on their own shit.

but heres something that the people wont tell them but i will because i am not the evil empire that they want to pretend that i am. i am here to tell them that they can get the attention on their own shit if theyd only write and write and write and write and write on their shit. and work at it. and quit whining all the time and quit acting like theyre acting. i didnt get what i have here by putting comments on peoples pages. i got what i got here by typing words on my page.

if you dont want to type words on your page, write for lick.

just like you said you would.

which is why your name and link is up there.

and you know it. and the movie is called eight mile.

meanwhile i heart fragrant and wish she wrote more + treacher

starring sir ben kingsley and jennifer connelly

dreamworks pictures

every once in a while its nice to see a real movie. one made by adults, for adults.

and once youre done with porn its nice to see a drama.

yesterday i took the 2 Sunset to the arclight theatres and paid my $11 at 4pm and saw the house of sand and fog, which is a slow, beautiful, delightful drama starring sksmith whose stage name is jennifer connelly.

sk acted wonderfully. sir ben acted incredibly. the woman who played sir bens wife was brilliant. it was all very believable and dramatic and the way movies should be.

two things made this movie great and i will tell you without ruining it for you.

the writing was airtight. by writing i dont mean delicious dialogue, i mean plot and storytelling. there arent any breathtakingly speeches, just normal conversations that happen in real life based around a swirling tale that could happen to anyone.

even you.

even me.

the plot, people. thats what movies should be about.

that and cinematography, and this film had the master of cinematography: Roger Deakins who did such good-looking films as o brother where art thou, a beautiful mind, the big lebowski, fargo, barton fink, sid and nancy, and the shawshank redemption.

afterwards i walked through hollywood in a great mood.

a wonderful mood.

thats what good movies are supposed to do for you.

in the greg vaine rating scale i give this a good good good good

jozjozjoz + sksmith + bitter tree

never did i expect to meet raymi. and yet i did.

often times i’ll meet someone who i admire and i’ll be let down or disappointed, which is why i dont try to seek out my heroes. over the years ive met rockers like the replacements, elvis costello, sonic youth, and tsar. i took my picture with hillary clinton when she campaigned for bill in 91, ive interviewed alan ginsberg and kim deal and black francis, i drove henry rollins around hollywood, and ive pumped the gas of lorraine newman adam ant don knotts and charles bronson.

but meeting raymi… shit. where was i?

deep down im terribly lazy. fellow libra andy warhol felt that he was lazy too. if raymi lived in la, i would get my lazy ass off this leather couch and get me a cable access tv show called bloggers and raymi would be my sidekick. why have there been no female sidekicks on talk shows? raymi could be and should be the first.

i love her. i do. i loved her before and i love her just as much now. she called me on new years and her name isnt really raymi but she knows i like to call her that so thats how she said hi. hi tony its raymi.

she has delusions of grandeur but theyre not so deluded. she should be famous. she should be a star. she is already. and she can write.

someone said something nice about me the other day. he listed all these people that i had turned him onto on the web and raymi was on that list. then someone else was talking about how women should write and they mentioned raymi. then someone else said what were my three favorite female bloggers and i said raymi and splinky and someone else and the person said does raymi still update and i said oh god yes.

it makes me mad that raymi isnt american.

it makes me sad that she doesnt live in la

it makes me happy everytime she writes

if i had a radio show on talk radio called bloggers raymi could call in from canaduh and teach us french swear words

since everyone up there speaks french.

raymi + anti + jaime + bob mould has a blog