Tuesday, August 30, 2005

an experiment

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

just in case....

i thought a felt a tremblor this morning.....

a local expert in echo park HAS been muttering things about jesus and earthquakes.

based on a 14 month old declaration from members of an interdimensional alien race, i'm focusing on things i appreciate. that might avert tragedy.

so here's some dope shit:

precocious children

bicycle experts

vegetarian options (which beat the chipotle burrito hands-down)



hope this helps.

Monday, August 22, 2005

fame whores falling down

everyone is high.

paying 6 hundred thousand dollars to live in a high rise in the desert where you just might see Jessica Simpson exiting the hot tub...this type of logic screams "this society is gonna last."

i'd pay at least nine dollars to eat a taco next to jack black though.

ten dollars, even.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

let the water wash over you

natural forces are telling us who is boss.

and it's not the highway patrol.

some things drown, never to be again as they once were.

other things will never die.

and for those who hang in the balance,

we do what we can,

wherever we are.


Friday, August 12, 2005

the virgin prevails, gets nose job.

Went to San Francisco see the Ma Dukes on her birthday.

I sat next to the union organizer, very San Francisco. But I noticed a celebrity DJ on my flight. It was kind of cool that he took such a humble flight, even if he was on his way to DJ at San Francisco's grossest and most unfortunately titled club.

(I know about this club because I went there with an, uh, associate of mine: the Russian-Jewish gangster who supplements his income from working for his mom (even a Jewish gangster works for his Ma Dukes) by running a club photography business. )

It was cold as hell in the Bay, and everyone seemed ugly and boring to look at. Except my homegirls, but I might have been blinded by love. And anyway, my homegirls wear skintight Budwieser dresses and audition for American Idol... that's anamolously wicked for the serious-minded women of the Bay Area.

My brother and I went out and I gravitated without even thinking to a pupuseria where only Spanish was spoken and a persistent old lady tried to sell him a rose-scented rosary until she realized he just didn't understand her.

I checked fourfour everyday, for new Bobby Brown updates or just good cat pictures. I made everyone listen to the mysterious extra MIA track I found on the copy of Arular I bought at Target.

.....Is your dad a dealer? Cuz you're dope to me....

I party-hopped with the Russian-Jewish gangsters. They have always been proudly crude, lazy, and mysogynistic but I used to like that, compared to the leftist bellowing that passes for socializing at Berkeley. This time it messed with my, uh, christian love??? I texted LAPop editor and got this simple affirmation from his drunk Mexican fingers:

"Guadalupano siempre"

Cool. Very LA.

Russian Gangsters and I proceeded to a decent club where I found a heartbroken gay reporter friend, and achieved a dance floor resolution: the Virgin prevailed.

I woke up in time for Ma Duke's birthday festivities: drunk crime reporters and depressed gossip columnists lamenting the terrible state of their newspaper.


I would have been much more comfortable if they had all had bad plastic surgury, or were under indictment for fraud.

Los Angeles has bitten me good.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

did i see you seeing you? no.

now i can track the whereabouts of quirky or possibly malevolent strangers.

thanks blogs. i don't even have to go to parties anymore. i can track the interconnectedness from home.

and on the internet, strangers are less likely to ask "what do you do?", giving you that "formulated, spawling on a pin" feeling.

it's getting headwhirly. which is better? the well-lit shots, or the lo-res reality?

the options afforded by reality can be grim.

oh well.

at least someone has some sort of good advice.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

the only reason to like white girls

so reese witherspoon reads the blogs.

and, snarky attention-loving famewhores that we all are, bloggers respond.

now, worshipping actors and actresses is basically pathetic. even crazy people know that.

but reese witherspoon actually kind of deserves to be revered.

Monday, August 08, 2005

write on me, papi

angelina jolie has a tattoo that says "that which nourishes me also destroys me"

is she warning us that....
deserts can kill?

nah, this inky message is all about......



who will spend their lives on the academic study of why is ok to kill you if you cheat on them.

who will, perhaps, give you barbituate enemas and make you look like a suicide if they fear you are out of their control.

who will act like total deluded retards just for a small shot at boning anyone who is not their wife.

who will pimp out their adult daughters so they do not have to work like the rest of the world!

ok, yeah, they also invent stuff, fix cars, and play wicked music.

but "that which nourishes me also fixes my car" makes a shitty tattoo.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

do gooders do it better

perhaps it is because the guava and cheese pie that i brought to today's office breakfast was the big hit, perhaps it was the espresso con leche, perhaps it was the altruistic high of donating some of my soft-earned scrill to KCRW just cuz deserve it way more any of the other entities that tax my paycheck (big screw you to the feds here.)

but for whatever reason, my mood needle is way over on the so-sincere-it-hurts side and i am full of love for all. things. beautiful. and kind.

the rich are in a hurry

have you ever worked in food service?
morning shift at a coffee shop?
experienced the caustic vibes of a sexually awkward yuppie when they actually have to stand in line before they can order the nonfat latte that will serve kick their flustered belligerency into high gear?

well, then you might be happy to know that smart scientists done gone and proved that this asshole's problem is that he has too much money.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

nostalgia and bootie music

nostalgia an an artistic aesthetic has been pissing me off for years, prompting friendster manifestos begging any of my far-flung compatriots to make something for me that would make my hair stand up on end. so i went around with an eye out for something new and found plenty to tickle every fancy from nature worship to orgone acculmulators, narrative beauty to bikesexuality.

but maybe nostalgia is not always the enemy after all; there is something about shared experiences, that stupid joy when you and someone you have never met drew enough solace from the same dance tracks that you both know every "uh-huh" and "that's right", 15 years later. for him, dance music was the only gay-safe aspect of an aggressive New Jersey. For me, it was the only connection i had to the rhythm-centered world of my Oakland friends after my family moved to Camarillo, a redneck town of old-fashioned white racists and born-again Christians. I taped half these tracks off the radio and would play them in back yard, pretending i was the choreographer for a struggling community center and if i made up good enough dances, we would be saved from ruin.

it could still happen.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

stop being so exciting!

American life is retarded!
since when are boisterous Ecuadorians playing volleyball a hazard to the peace?

do cops do anything besides protect property values?

i'm a communist, in case you were wondering. now get the hell off my property.

boys just wanna do it