ive had writers block, i’ll admit it

i want to blame this i wanna blame that. is it procrastination? whats even the difference?

i had such a great time today driving around south central and hollywood.

i met the coolest people, thought up cool ideas. learned things. laughed.

got home and talked with my neighbor on the street in the moonlight as the summer night breeze said whaddup boys!

now ive got a great story in my phone and in my head and its time to write and i cant i wont but i must.

the clock keeps ticking. this is my life now. ive gotta get it down. i wanna get it down. 12 years ago i did these one after another and they just flowed. but now it’s harder.

do i need an assistant? do i need a muse? am i capable of fighting this alone? can i succeed?

are these even things black folks are allowed to ask? i feel like we have to have the answers and even if we dont we have to getter done. we are not allowed excuses or reasons or issues or struggles. we have to be jackie robinson and muhammed ali or obama

we just have to do it michael jordan

which is sorta nice, because chicken exits are lame.

so fine, i’ll end this whine

the best thing that happened to me last week

so much happened last week, much of it good, for a change, but i want to tell you about something that could also happen to you.

i was walking down the street a few blocks from my house, returning from the grocery store.

a car pulled over asking me for directions.

as i was showing them the way a big, tall, beefy guy came up from behind me and asked me if i knew where homeless people could get food.

it just so happened that i did know, because there is a church two blocks from my house that not only serves hot meals for the homeless but also has a few tables in front of their doors where merchants and drop off bread and other things that homeless people can just grab and go.

this guy told me what many homeless people say, that they havent eaten in days, that theyre from out of town, that anything we can give will be appreciated.

but i seriously had no cash on me and what’s a few cans of Beefaroni gonna do for a man with no hot plate or can opener?

i walked home and easily passed him because he was walking with a terrible limp. his clothes didn’t look that dirty, he didn’t smell, he seemed to be what he said he was: a guy who came here from Texas by bus, got robbed, is expecting a check in a few days, but desperately needed food, water, clothes and shelter.

because he was walking so slowly i was able to get to my crib, put together a Trader Joe’s canvas bag of a half a rotisserie chicken still in its plastic case, fruits, vegetables, a giant thing of sparkling water (sorry Amber), biscuits, and candy. i ran out of my house and caught up to him.

i said, here you go man, and there’s the church over there.

this giant of a man dropped his one bag and said “thank you. you have saved a life. thank you. my day is totally changed because of you. THANK YOU!” and he hugged me.

i have experienced huge joys in my life. and this feeling was almost exactly the same. this man was geniunely starving. he downed the water nearly in one gulp. how could he be that thirsty? had NO ONE helped this man? had he been too proud to ask? WTF LA?

the entire thing was surprising, sad, and beautiful all at once. and i will never forget it.

what have i been doing?

gurrrrl ive been working working working.

thats the thing, give a man a fish he will eat for a day, let a man run his own fishing boat he will fish all day and night

and think of ideas and talk to people and write and talk and write and scheme and plot and plan and not sleep and not eat and talk and figure out

and parts of his brain that havent been loved in sooo sooo long will emit clouds of smoke and gears will turn and things will go slowly at first but damnit if this machine wasnt ready for this, if i wasnt built for this

if i wasnt born this way.

and baby im telling you right here right now, i was meant to do the job that i am doing right now and the only thing slowing me down is some outside forces which will be cleared up super soon

and then the rock will begin.

because it’s about writing though there needs to be a bit of structure and thats coming too. in part is the lesson i learned at UCSB which was “when it’s light out, study, when it’s dark out party.”

i need to write in the daytime now and study at night because my body has changed. my magic is in the AM and i get so distracted at night. maybe this is because i was sitting on the bench for half of this year turning into mush?

maybe it’s because i havent written news and features in far too long. FIVE YEARS david bowie i was doing basically PR, trying to do news but being nudged into a different place.

remember in Moneyball when Brad Pitt wanted Scott Hattenberg to play first base and they asked the dude, hey its easy to play first and the dude said, it’s actually incredibly difficult. writing news is not as easy as it seems. but i can do it. and i have the freedom to do it the way i want. which is priceless. a dream come true. and i thank the Lord above for this blessing. and just wait what i do with it.

speaking of the pretty boy. i fell asleep in an afternoon matinee of the new Brad Pitt movie because i was so tired. i see why people do cocaine now. but id never do that for a few reasons. death. expense. and the last thing i wanna hear from St. Peter is come on dude.

 

today i got a job

if you’ve noticed, i havent had a job for going on six months.

that all ended the other day when one thing led to another which led to another which led to an email which led to some paperwork and before you can say

timetostartworking

i had a job.

with cool people. who are just as idealistic as i am. and creative. and fun.

and most importantly, ready to rock.

i dont wanna jinx it – if that’s even possible – but this might just be the perfect fit.

i told them some of the ridiculous things that i aspire to accomplish in the next few years

and whereas others said, yeah no

these people said, yes yes.

i posted it on facebook and all my friends said yes yes too

it was very sweet.

then like a dozen new people followed me on twitter

to be honest, today was a daze just like how you feel when you lose a job

all day i was thinking, is this real? am i getting emotional?

must. keep. it. together.

i had a boss a while back, a genius, she said there are two type of people

builders and maintainers.

builders like to be places where there’s a thing, and it’s sorta new and they like to see if they can help it grow to be something spectacular.

then theres people who like to enter when it’s fully grown and do it’s best to keep it strong and vital.

she said, tony you’re a builder. build your crazy dr seuss kingdoms and get out when it feels like maintaining.

and looking back, all the times when i wasn’t part of giant growth i was trying to find new ways to grow stuff, to make things, to put cool things on the map.

amber has had to ask me twice now to say the website

los angeleno, i said, like you. you are a native los angeleno

and she was all, yes yes

yes yes

someone asked me to write about the first date i ever had with amber

 

amber cool dress

and heres the crazy thing, i have a terrible memory, which is a main reason why i blog so much

and should probably blog more.

but heres what i remember… through Instagram of all places she noticed that i was taking pics of places near where she lived. this was back when the Academy was where the Academy Museum is now being built. well, she lived a few blocks away.

and either i said or she said, we should hang out after work one day.

i remember we went to Doomies because i had recently eaten a fantastic vegan Big Mac from them at a street fair and i wanted to try it again to see if i was hallucinating.

so i picked Amber up and she had these crazy shorts that rode up high on her hips but were chopped super short.

i was driving a Prius looking car back then, def not the chick magnet muscle car she was accustomed to.

she said she didn’t drink, so i didnt drink either. and i noticed that i hadn’t made a move during a date without liquid courage since… maybe high school?

amber looked so beautiful and knew everything about LA (she’s a native), i hugged her goodnight and putt-putted away in my slowass hybrid.

miracles of miracles she texted me back the next day saying she had a great time.

she may have even included a risqué photograph saying she was impressed that i was a gentleman the whole evening.

after some questioning, she told me she would be interested in seeing Aerosmith play at the Forum with me, Slash was opening. she wore a slinky sparkly dress and i noticed this was the first concert i had gone to without buying a beer since… high school. it was fun, she was cute. i put my hand around her hip for one song and was too scared to kiss her when i dropped her off.

a few days later she texted me, said how much she loved the show and wanted to see another concert with me, did i have anything on the calendar? i said oui, KISS is playing with Def Leppard opening in about two weeks. we went, i was nervous, i was still not drinking, but then the lights spelling K I S S blinked i knew i should and i did

and i must be an incredible kisser because fireworks started exploding

all over the stage, in the audience, pretty much everywhere.

i hear Kiss was so moved by my moves that they now incorporate those pyrotechnics in all of their shows.

you’re welcome.

i broke bread with good people today

they were honest and i was honest and we got it all out there

and they asked good, hard questions

and i had answers and examples and a few things they probably didn’t see coming

and i smiled and they smiled

and the food was super good

and we were just three people not fucking around, just getting it done with a shared goal

a pure goal

goodness all around.

fucking a. this city is so big but it’s rare when this happens. why is it rare? is everyone that scarred and worn down? does this happen only once every full moon friday the 13th?

or is this what ive been writing all along: that the man upstairs, you know that he cares, was just letting the ingredients meld together naturally, which is the best way

and then when it was time… ta da.

we talked about so much in such a short period of time.

even in hushed tones

(the best tones)

i ate rare beef.

im alive eating left over rare beef.

if i die i love you and that smile on my face is bittersweet

true love will find you in the end

today is 9/11 and i had a terrible day

maybe the worst thing about having a bad day on 9/11 is you look like a jerk if you whine about it

bc anyone can rightfully quote the original Hangover movie and ask, but did you die?

weirdly if you asked Daniel Johnston that tonight at the reception party beyond the Pearly Gates he would smile and say yep.

i don’t know if this is how it is with everyone, but the basis of most of my bad days revolves around Communication

did that person say to me what i think they did? why isn’t this other person understanding what i want and my expectations and how small they are and yet they are still not being met?

i admit that sometimes, especially when it comes to jobs, i feel that at my age and station i have done the things necessary to be Qualified

and when a gig appears that suits me perfectly, the hiring manager would either piss his pants and say THE tony pierce wants some of this so shout heck yeah!

but youd be shocked how few times thats happened lately.

what good is experience if you’re gonna overlook it?

and i keep saying, God has something better. be patient, grasshopper. this endless chorus of nos is going to end in a bukakke of Meg Ryan when harry met sally yes yes

yessssssses

but you still arent allowed to have a bad day on 9/11 so suck it up macho man and get it tomorrow

the first rule of blogging is to blog

but its been hot girls summer and i just needed to live a little before the rocket launches

but now murphys law now ambers sick.

i was gonna take her to san dieger because the cubs are down there

but now those plans are canceled

the curse of the 619

tomorrow im being interviewed for a documentary.

these sorts of things happen all the time.

heres the catch about journalists bloggers, people who like to talk to other people

often theyre the worst interviewees

as in most thing, i’ll try not to suck.

 

today in cub twitter

Anthony Rizzo has played over 1,200 innings in the majors.

A giant majority of that time was as a first baseman.

Over the course of the last few years he has spent a total of 5 innings as a second baseman… on a technicality.

occasionally Joe Maddon positions players very aggressively on bunts. Rizzo is positioned ridiculously close to home and the true second baseman covers first.

Because he is basically to the side of the pitcher’s mound during the pitch,

MLB rules say Rizzo can’t use a first baseman’s glove because those are only used for the player closest to first.

He exchanges his huge glove with the second baseman for a normal sized one.

During those outs, he’s being recorded as a second baseman.

They are rare.

Extremely rare.

The Cubs have done that zero times this season so far.

But Rizzo, always the jokester, identifies himself as a first AND second baseman on his Twitter bio.

had to do a favor for a guy

dude says do you know san francisco

i said, nope

he said, your thing says you lived there for years.

i said what thing

he said the thing

i go those things are always full of flaws

he said did you not live there for 4 years at the dawn of the internet and you started your own company and you sold beers for the giants and

you left because you read something in the new testament about the rich prince?

i said those reports have sure gotten specific

he goes do this thing be back soon heres a bunch of cash

next thing you know we’re on fishermans warf eating three types of fish and the freshest crab youve ever. we’re sitting on these outdoor stools. a young lady is yelling at the tourists trying to get them to come into her restaurant. there’s five others right next to hers. all selling the same thing.

i got seats available. who wants lobster? best on the pier!

i go, baby. let me hold those menus and give it a try

delicious food guaranteed to help you grow an inch taller. all the seafood is vegan. we dont use salt. and the water’s free. who wants two. i got two right by batters box. free peanuts for the kids. all the proceeds go to charity. thats the bosses girlfriend. who wants a booth. i got a booth. booth of you over there, you look hungry. give the leftovers to the poor. knock on the glass and scare the sea lions. penguins eat free. who needs two!

next to us was what appeared to be a pimp and his employee. they both seemed happy and not a care in the world. surely they were working but what was their angle. he was ordering food, she was reading a book on her phone.

something was fishy on the pier.

amber didnt like the scene so we split. she said she wanted to see all the places id lived.

i wasn’t that into it but for some reason the streets were empty, everything was desolate. so we sped through town.

first stop was the apartment a bunch of us lived in on haight street. because no one was in town there was a parking spot right infront of the door. there was a dude on the stairs smoking a cigarette. 40ish. gay. hippie punker.

i asked do you live here?

yep

oh man, i used to live here like 20 years ago.

he goes, wanna come look around?

shocked i said, why yes i would!

the place looks almost like we never left. it’s cluttered with the greatest things you are bound to find on and around the lower haight. mannequins, stuffed animal heads. props, sound equipment, guitars, bars.

the main living room had been turned into two living rooms. and the middle living room is now the dining room. but with tons of found out and second and third hand furniture.

perfect!

the kitchen strangely looked identical except for a holder for the pots and pans and a seriously organized dishes situation next to the sink. someone put some effort into realizing that a victorian with 5 bedrooms and no dishwasher is going to live or die by the dirty dishes solution, what ever that may be.

the woman was making like three pounds of ground beef. this other guy was eating a thick steak and bonding with amber because they’re both from the valley.

and a dog waited below waiting for something to fall off the small table.

upstairs the sole bathroom was modernized slightly and the front room where don lived was identical. and then we got to see my room and it was the natural progression of what it once was: enormous tv, and cool art around the walls.

what an amazing defiance of gentrification while all around it, the soul was being sucked out of a once vibrant source of idealism and creativity.

we hugged them many times and amber exchanged phone numbers like eight times to the same guy.

then we drove to the mission and ate a giant plate of mexican food at el faro lito. all i wanted was a burrito but amber pointed at a picture and out came rice beans enchiladas and salad.

the scene was amazing. all kinds of young people, some tow truck drivers, a black girl from compton who seemed more high than drunk, and this guy who amber swore was wasted on cocaine.

got to the hotel, pooped, cuz i had just driven six hours and passed out

next day i had to mail something for a friend of the busblog

we did it in this tiny mall that had a safeway in it. freakiest thing. but this mail place had it all. it was all spread out unlike most mail places. theyd do ups, usps, fed ex. and they also faxed. i needed to send a fax. faxing is still a thing right now, readers from the future.

this place did all of it, had stamps, packing materials. birthday cards. tv going on in the back. for some reason it was my dream store.

who doesnt want an alternative to the post office that has every little thing youd ever need. markers. tape. confetti.

only thing it needed was a couple of packs of baseball cards for sale somewhere.

then we drove to the house of nan king and not only wasnt there a line, but it too had a parking spot right in front of it because everyone was at burning man or some shit. no one was in town. for a good 20 minutes at lunch time, only half of the city’s best chinese restaurant was full.

how good was it? amber didnt wanna eat there. she eats chinese 3 times a week. usually dollar chinese joints cuz she keeps it super real.

she was all, nope, if i wanted chinese i woulda gotten something next door to the mail place, a poor man’s panda express called Asia Chinese.

but when we got there and she bit into the veggie chow mein her eyes got big and she saw the light.

i had shrimp packets and nanking sweet potatoes with crispy chicken.

it was then that amber said, why dont you just do people favors for a living. travel the state. eat the foods. fix problems.

i said, the xbi is dangerous. thats why it pays so well.

she said, this is an xbi thing?

we went around the block to the city lights book shop and she got emotional in there

it is pretty much living history, that book store. and all your friends are on the shelf.

it was nice that she felt the spirit in there.

we drove back fast as we could stopping here and there

and listening to jim acostas book Enemy of the People which he reads to you

and it reminds you just

how

much

shit

has hit the fan in the last little while with trump in office.

you really forget how much of it theres been

and acosta doesnt go into all of it, but weirdly he was in the center of a big one

when the white house revoked a member of the press’s hard pass

because they didn’t like his questions.

got home and finished my faro lita burrito.