that you can do. for ten thousand dollars each. i liked her ideas. she believed in me. i didnt know why. all i ever did around her was write poems in the ads of magazines and drink rum. she was playing with the wax that dripped down the tall skinny candle. she popped her gum when she chewed it.

i was all i cant live on thirty grand in hollywood.

she said quit eating out so much and buying all those baseball cards.

i could hear celebrities uncensored in the next room on the big tv. they said the name of the guy she used to date and she froze in order to hear better.

the new air, talkie walkies, was on the boom box. only peice of sony i ownie.

one of those sports boomboxes with extra tough plastic around everything which is good cuz im hard on things.

sony needs to make a sports

car.

super tough, yellow, indestructable, and who cares if it gets dinged.

id buy the sony sportscar.

but id also want a sony mp3 playing cd player in that bad boy.

and she said, see, that idea is worth ten grand.

and then we made lust like seals.

flagrant is awesome, i would be her publicist

hung over the ghetto of east hollywood tonight as i drove to the jack in the box to get miss montreal her number four plain.

she hadnt seen my shaved head yet and i was secretly hoping that she was going to take me up on my little dare but life is never as good as what you dream about on blogs and she just wanted to say hi and hang out and drink and kiss a little and watch average joe and smoke some of her wacky tabbacky. she kept offering it to me and it smelled good but nah. dope is fer dopes. hugs not drugs i told her and snuggled up againster as we watched the hottie weed through the men who wished to woo her.

i do have a good life and i realized this on vermont where there appeared to be a crushing use of force between a metro bus and a two door hatchback and im not usually a lookie loo but i saw a man on the pavement surrounded by paramedics totally passed out and naked. i surmised that his clothes had been cut off of him so the doctors could get at whatever they needed to get at.

and let me tell you a thing or two about pavement. back in the olden days when i went to college i was a skater. i skateboarded everywhere and every now and then i would hit an acorn or find a rut in the sidewalk or hit a wet spot and begin to soar through the air with the greatest of ease.

of the many lessons that i learned at the university of isla vista was that road and skin should never rub against each other with any real force. the skin just rips so easilly as if by being alive and young we are simply marinating our fragile flesh.

so i saw this guy face down naked middle of the street etc and i thought whats stopping me from being that guy. i walk around not giving a fuck. i fly around in a damn copter. i get shot at by assholes daily. who’s to say that one day that might not be me. and then i thought i know whos to say and i better get right with him or im fucked.

came home and i called my mom and told her i loved her.

hung up and then i told the girl that i was happy she was here.

and then she attempted to suck the life out of me.

then she got pretty close but not really that close cuz im a freak of nature so we adjourned to my chambers and we gave the walls something to wish they could talk about.

thats for damn sure.

then she shaved the five oclock shadow from my head and asked me if i knew how ridiculously adorable i looked which is a very nice thing to say even if its just to be nice

while the saggy moon resisted its inevitable nightly assention into the heavens cuz usually its better in hollywood.

mr sutter has an funny quiz + kevin cole calls my afro auction genius + britcoal lays it out

i hate life. i hate everything. hi.

a hot chick is gonna take me to do laundry with her, so thats cool. but if the earth opened up here in hollywood and sucked this godforsaken building down i would only be sorry for the people who discover chopper one because once they put it back together it will be a shock to them that mankind could create a machine so good while turning their backs on other machinery that could do things like, oh, say, feed starving people or find water in desert areas.

which they could, of course. if there was a way to make money off the poor.

instead they built this beast to keep the madding crowds in line and to steal from the rich and spy on the thieves.

the clouds are beautiful today. the sun in shining. the air is crisp. the girls are wearing cute little scarves and ugg boots. their flowers are wilting in their button holes their dreams havent been crushed yet like mine have, their boyfriends havent been found out yet and their daddys still pay for their miatas.

but one day they will look in the mirror and see what i just saw: the cold hard truth.

bitter bubbles the babbling brook of broken backs on which this “fair” city was born.

and fie on the fucks who stir its broth for the unsuspecting.

man walked into a bar last night as i was paying my tab and asked me if i had a few minutes to listen to his pitch and i said i have all the time in the world as long as he was talking about jesus

he said he had something better to talk about than the lord

i said youve got something better than everlasting life

he said you really want this to last forever

so i sat down and got the tab open again.

turned out he just wanted to have someone to talk to until the rain ended.

i made him pay for my baileys and i told the fuck to get a blog next time.

sk smith + i heart amy + rabbit

but only when i take off my shirt.

some hot chick is sending me letter after letter.

each letter has a square of a picture in it.

eventually i will have the entire photograph and because im a man im hoping its a wonderful nude.

although with my luck it will probably be a still life of a fern.

bus came on time, train came on time. woman had a little kid with her. he started crying and she pantomimed punching him in the face.

he cooed.

when i got on the second bus i saw a different woman holding a baby. next to her was a little girl who must have been 6 years old. she was carrying the babies diaper bag.

the baby was being held in the mommas arms in a sheet. looking freshly stolen.

no stroller. no clothes bag. no bottle.

the little girl seemed perfectly fine at 8 in the morning holding the diaper bag getting off the bus and crossing the street with her mom who couldnt hold her hand because she had both hands on the infant.

get used to it little girl, i wanted to tell her.

but i dont speak spanish.

saw her staring at me though through the scratchy plastic bus windown, etched at by gangmembers

she probably thought i was ll.

she probably thinks a lot of things.

i wondered if the real ll cool j had problems that i did.

new poem + dye winter + inluminent