From: tonysmom@tonypierce.com
To: tony
Subj: Re: LA Times Registration

Hi Tony.

Thanks I will try it later. I have been on your web site for a couple of hours; now I must do my income tax.

I enjoyed reading your Blog.

You are such a good writer.

I also looked at 3 or 4 photo essays. I enjoyed them all. Where do you get all of those pictures?

They are very good.

I really liked the running of the bulls pictures. I didn't quite understand where the Benjamin Banaker was going but you ended it very well.

Though I lived in D.C. and Arma told me about Banaker, I had forgotten it all.

I also looked at the Xmas with the Cam girls, and your 2002 vacation and You are Right.

I figured out how to use the right click and more quickly get back to where I had started.

Good luck in finding a way to put all of your talent into some kind of job doing these things and making money for them.

Someone asked me why you don't create websites for people and I can't remember if you ever told me why you don't.

I do remember your experience with Chris's boss but I'm sure there is something more than that.

Well I must go now.

Love, Mom

Goldtoe LemonNut

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caption this, please

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raymi is coming to america right when i take my vacation.

i wonder if we fall in love with each other.

i wonder if she will like my secret karoake style.

today a cute girl at work called me on the phone and we talked and talked and it was nice.

i wish you could have seen the clouds last night, raymi the minx.

los angeles does well when it has real weather.

it becomes dramatic and intense and then twenty four hours later it becomes clean and clear and crisp and green.

and sunny.

what if she came down here, threw off her clothes and kicked her feet up, lit up a smoke, and just said f canada, and stayed right there on my leather couch asking out loud what she could do to make me love her.

and i would say, i couldnt love you more.

what if she came down here and said lets go to johnny rockets.

what if she came down here and just wanted to do shots, play gin rummy, and learn to master the hokie pokie.

i havent truly mastered jack in like decades.

raymi and i have one thing in common, we both attract people who feel inclined to say mean things about us on their blogs.

if you arent getting a little backlash, youre not on the right path.

if people are talking about you, not everyone is going to be sweet. if no one isnt talking shit about you, odds are no one is talking about you.

and if no one is talking about you, youre probably being dull.

the worst thing they could do is ignore you.

therefore backlash, my love, is your friend.

<3 raymi <3

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this guy gets to build the tallest building in the world.

what do you get to do?

how are your dreams coming?

are you kissing the girls you wanna kiss?

are you better off this year than you were last year?

what are you doing to get what you want out of this giant twister game called life?

in the era of post napster file sharing, have you downloaded any good cds lately?

praying for peace any more?

know any good jokes?

signed any left handed pitchers this winter?

found any terrorists?

wrote any good posts?

told your mom you love her?

fight any crime?

lead by example?

completely rocked?

flowed someone you dont know?

done something scary?

saved the world?

execersized your heart?

laughed hysterically?

smelled a flower?

ate some pie?

wished you could die?

gave a high five?

rolled down a hill?

whispered something sweet?

ate way too much meat?

went on a date?

felt part of fate.

brutal news + mad pony

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as you probably know, mr. rogers is dead. even though he was super nice, and had that great smooth jazz going on in the background, i was always a little scared of mr. rogers.

nobody i ever knew talked like him. that slower, sharper, adult-talking-to-kids-speak.

the puppets scared me, his neighbors scared me.

everyone was just a little too happy, a little too old, and a little too peppy. as if mr. rogers' neighborhood was the county seat of speed and everyone was in on it except for Lady Elaine.

his trolley was cool though.

i cant tell you why.

i cant remember one thing that mr. rogers taught me. i don't remember him teaching the alphabet or numbers or geography. i don't remember anything about him except the opening and the closing routine.

i suppose that means the show was successful.

i do remember a time that Stuttering John from the Howard Stern Show bum rushed a Mr. Rogers book signing and asked if he hated Barney.

without getting the least bit flustered, Mr. Rogers said, "no, I don't hate Barney. Do you?"

it was a very sweet and slightly southern "you" that rose up and curled off like a trail of smoke from a doorway stick of incense.

i suppose i will miss Mr. Rogers. he seemed to be a genuine fellow. a minister, a jazz musician, a tv innovator and producer. far as i can tell he never really cashed in on his name or on the show, and i appreciate that.

i never saw a bunch of dolls or trains or tshirts with his logo on it. no coffee mugs. no mouse pads.

so adios, mister rogers. you were never my neighbor, but if you were i would have waved at you if you were watering your lawn, and ignored you just like i ignore my other neighbors.

which, i believe, is the best things neighbors can do for each other.

sk smith + amy + jeff jarvis

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remind me never to talk to the press. especially the times.

i never sound right in sound bytes. i talk too fast. i talk too crazy. the best way to find out what i think is to chat with me in the IM like a few people did last night, including a young lady who showed me some nudes of herself.

eighteen. gorgeous. admitted that she had a crush on me.

the times said that i thought that Mark from Boing Boing was a nerd.

i dont remember saying that. if i did say it, i meant it in a nice way. for most of my life i've been around computer geniuses and sometimes i refer to them as nerdy, but as a synonym for brilliant.

i do remember saying that i was suprised how nervous he seemed. i do remember saying something along the lines that any guy who can launch boing boing, illustrate like this, and go back as far as the Well shouldnt be nervous about talking about blogs.

but whatever. if even the girls who get naked with me, and sleep with me for years on end misunderstand me, it makes sense that a stranger writing for the times would have a hard time with me, especially after i was flying off the buzz of that great panel discussion.

for the record, i was not suprised by how "down-to-earth" Doc Searls was, as i was quoted to say. i had met him once before and he was down-to-earth then, so i didnt expect anything different than what he is: your typical santa barbaran excellent soul living the good life that he deserves.

why must the Times torture me so.

i want to hate them but everyone i meet from there are so nice.

i want to fight against them but i want to work for them so badly. i want to write a blog for them. a blog that they would never do the way i want it, a blog that they would never let me write.

a blog that would have special guest stars like my pal karisa who would write about which bar she danced on top of on a wednesday night. special guest stars like shaq who loves technology and the web. special guest stars like courtney love, who is a los angelino, love it or not.

and then there would be me. commenting on the day to day life of la in a way that you all know i can. but moreso. if i had a car, a press pass, and access to places like staples center, the wiltern, and dodger stadium, the blog that i could write daily for the times would rival anything else that youve ever seen anywhere.

and unlike this page, everything would be true.

mr rogers died yesterday.

and i did think that ev was way cooler than i expected.

fucker.

evhead is back

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last night saddam said he wanted to have a conversation with george bush.

where im from we would have said that bush was "called out."

from what i got from saddam's interview with dan rather on "60 Minutes II" last night, saddam seems to think that if he could work out a "debate" live, unedited, via satalite, he could convince the world that the US is wrong about Iraq. but what he was really saying is George Bush is a liar, and too damn dumb to be able to have a simple conversation about why Iraq shouldnt be bombed to hell.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: If-- the American people-- would like to know the facts for what they are, or as they are, through a direct dialogue, then I am ready to conduct a direct dialogue with the President of the United States, President Bush, on television. I will say whatever I have to say-- about American policy. He will have-- the opportunity to say whatever he has to say about policy of Iraq. And this will be in front of all people, and-- on television, in a direct�uncensored � hon - honest manner. In front of, as I said, everyone.

And then they will see what the facts are, and where falsehoods are. And I would not object to see this dialogue conducted on-- by-- by Mr. (UNINTEL).

Rather: Are you speaking about a debate?

This - this is new. You-- you are suggesting, you are saying, that you are willing, you are suggesting, you're urging a debate with President Bush? On television?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: Yes. That's my proposal.

Rather: Well, that's an interesting...

This is not a joke.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: No, this is something proposed in earnest. This is proposed out of my respect for the public opinion of the United States. And it is out of my respect to the people of the United States. And to the people of Iraq. And in-- out of my respect to mankind in general. Humanity at large. I call for this, because war itself is not a joke. Whoever chooses war as the first choice in his life, then he is not a normal person. I think the - the debates would be an opportunity for us to insure peace and safety.

where i come from, if some dude says that your choices are not ones of "a normal person," thats called a dis.

right there saddam dissed the president of the united states and a lot of its citizens.

but in a twisted way, he'd doing the perfect thing. he knows he cant win any war against the US. but he's gambling that GWBush live isnt smart enough to substantiate this war. i think it's beautiful because i dont trust either of these men. but who wouldnt want such a debate on live tv? and why on earth wouldnt the US want the opportunity to state their case verbally, show proof, and then follow it up with force?

60 Minutes II reported that White House officials dismissed Saddam's offer, saying Saddam wasnt serious.

Rather: Mr. President, where would this debate take place, that you imagine-- what would be the venue?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: It will be in a place, as President of the United States, and Saddam Hussein will be in a place as President of Iraq. And then the debate can be conducted through satellite.

Rather: Oh. So, a satellite television debate. Live.

Translator For Saddam Hussein: And if Mr. Bush has another proposal, a counterproposal with the same basic idea then we're prepared to listen to such a proposal.

Rather: Would you be prepared to come to the United Nations for this debate?

Translator For Saddam Hussein: The basic thing is that as far as debate to be heard in the natural, normal-- in a (UNINTEL) accurate manner. In the United Nations, voices are not heard. Not always. And I do not mean that I go and I make a speech at the United Nations and then that Bush will make his speech at the United Nations. That is not what I mean. What I mean is that we sit-- as we are sitting, you and I, now as-- Here is-- I will address questions to him and he will address questions to me. The position of Iraq and he will - the position of the United States.

He will explain why � �I will (UNINTEL) go to war.� I will explain why we are insistent on peace and we want to maintain peace.

Sounds good to me.

I dont see what would be so bad about seeing what the two leaders have to say to each other. Saddam said a lot of stupid things, like maintaining that he was elected by a majority, and when he said that Iraq didnt lose the Gulf War. Why's Bush afraid that Saddam wouldnt be equally foolish on live tv?

Maybe it's because GW knows that he has everything to lose by going on tv against Saddam, and nothing to lose if he just bombs the f out of Iraq.

It's not like Bush is gonna get re-elected or anything.

the full transcript

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i fuck up at work all the time sometimes i'll shoot the wrong bad guy, or smack some motherfucker in the head before reading him his rights. little things. civil rights, human rights, blah blah blah. but im serious, most of these people are the scummiest scumdogs of the universe, people that even i have a hard time finding good in.

some of the bad guys are actually sorta clever. or they are fearless. or they are innovative. but very few of them are. the smart ones i like to shoot "by accident" just to balance everything out. it's what got me booted from the bureau. i tried to explain that they do that in bullfighting but noone would listen. maybe it was because i was cleaning my gun while i was explaining.

see, in bullfighting they get a guy on a horse to stab the bulls in the shoulders to weak it. then the bullfighter comes out with his gay little pink satin muleta and everything is sorta even. sorta.

anyhow, i like to make things even. the xbi are the equalizers in the whole grand scheme of things. we are the horses and the picadors and the swords. but sometimes we butcher that fucking beast before the matadors can get to them. the bureau and the cops and the justice department don't like that, but you know what? they have learned to deal.

i bring this all up because some joker thought it was a good idea to take chopper one up last night without my knowledge for "training." of course everything was approved, behind my back. and this morning i arrived and everyone said that it was decided that someone else should be just as trained as i am in case i got sick or went on vacation.

they said that they didnt tell me because they knew that i would get upset.

like im not more upset now.

some people, i swear.

anyhow, junior took out a building by accident as he was landing. and it wasn't just any old building, he took out a big chunk of a hospital.

turns out he was working on his landings on the top of the children's hospital's helipad and accidently shot off one of the larger rockets thinking it was something else.

lucky for him the building that he hit across the street, kaiser hospital, was red flagged for demolition as they continue their expansion. but still.

i told the people responsible that i understood that chopper one isn't mine, even if i act like it is, and even though its a black copter and super easy to fly, and comes with a team and is super hard to crash, it's not accident proof, and it's not really like any other bird, and it's computer is a little psycho since everyone keeps trying to make it a "thinking" computer.

i told them that if they want me to train people i would be happy to, but let me pick the people because you cant be some fucking straight edge dude who's all perfect all the time because this isn't any straight edge machine. it fits well with the quirky qids, so don't fight it.

everyone fights everything, unfortunately and even though i emailed them a list of five people who i would be happy to train, i haven't gotten any emails back which mean they're probably still trying to figure out how to get junior back in my seat even though i have never fucked up that bad, ever, not in a million years.

and sometimes i just think they don't like me cuz i don't wear abercrombie.

even though i sometimes do undercover. but please don't tell anybody.

oish + nay + chelle

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ive been asked for my autograph a few times. that always makes me happy. when we were watching "catch me if you can" we cracked up when kids were asking pilots for their autographs.

my first autograph was of bill buckner the year that he got traded from the dodgers to the Cubs.

after that i was hooked and i would get lots of athlete's autographs, and then sometime in college i thought that i had all these signatures of all these people who i didn't know, but i didn't have any of the people who i knew, and loved.

so i got a baseball and had all of my exgirlfriends sign it for me.

eventually it ended up being all the girls i had sex with, which wasn't the plan, but it was sorta the same theme.

the idea was that on a dreary day where i was feeling low i could look at that ball and think, "hmmm, these people actually loved me for at least a little while."

even though ive done a pretty good job of maintaining that baseball i don't really look at that baseball the same way any more.

some of the names make me wince, some of them make me really happy. some of them make me wonder how i ever got *that* girl to sign it. and a few of the names are now fading.

but the ball has sorta helped calm me down a little. you really don't want names on there that you will wince at in the future. you rally don't want names of people who you barely know. you really want names of people who are super special so that when you see the autograph it will spark a memory and you will think nice things, not sad things or icky things.

one girl wasn't really my girlfriend, but it was pretty hot sex. so i let her sign her own ball. i was almost as surprised that she signed it as i was that she did it with me.

those are the happy little surprises that balance out the sad little suprises in life. i do my best to remember that they all pretty much even each other out.

anyhow, when i sold hotdogs at candlestick, all the people i worked with signed a stray foul ball on my last day.

weirdly that ball means just as much as all the other autographs that i have too.

see, another little happy suprise.

3rd leg + dog named clipper + dc

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karisa came over with a meatloaf and a bottle of brass monkey. she'd just cut her bangs and i probably shoulda taken a picture cuz she looked pretty cute.

tight gray college sweatshirt, jeans, pink pumas, hair in a pony tail. i told her she looked like laura petrie and she said that shes too young to know about her.

the greyhounds howled and i saw two girls in a kompressor waving at me. one of them was holding up a video tape.

karisa fixed our plates as i told the girls to come back tomorrow at noon.

we put in "catch me if you can" and were so entranced that we didnt talk to each other for a good twenty minutes.

is it the brass monkey? she asked me.

no. i think this is a good movie, i told her.

then i asked her how she liked tom hanks' boston accent and she gave me a dirty look.

nobody i know talks like that, she informed me.

she she liked my haircut. she looked at it for a long time at first, soaking it all in.

ever fondue before, she asked me.

nope. i said.

me neither, she said, and then told me about a fondue place she saw in hollywood.

earlier in the day my boss at the xbi said that he thought i should take a vacation in a few weeks.

i said that i didnt want to take any vacation cuz i had nowhere to go and no one to go with.

he said i should just chill out for a week.

i walked home thinking about what he meant by that, then nearly fell asleep on the train, and then decided at wilshire vermont to take the new rapid line up to los feliz and get a pie from the house of pies.

maybe id clean out the closets one day, paint the bathtub one day, hang out with chris one day, and just sleep and sleep and sleep the other days.

maybe jeanine would let me lay in her hot tub with her.

maybe i'll just bowl every day.

dan + sarah + bathtub girl

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a really good question was asked in the comments section this morning asking what part of my life i write about on here.

none.

then they asked if i write about it somewhere else.

no.

this blog is where all of my creative output goes. last year i did a baseball blog because i didnt think there were any baseball blogs. then i found out there were some really good ones, so i stopped mine.

and last year i kept two secret diaries. one was on Open Diary, but then all the people who i was hiding it from started reading it, so i saw no point. then i kept a hand-written diary that i wrote while riding the bus and train about my true secret super dooper crazy feelings about all the people in my life, specificially the girls i had crushes on. and even though i still have that journal, it's hidden and i havent updated it in a while and i dont plan to because if certain people found it thered be a lot of explaining to do.

the best plan, i have found is to have this thing, tell everyone that it's all fake. keep telling everyone it's all fake and sprinkle some truths in there just to keep everyone guessing. but for the most part i pack all of this with lies and see if that will be enough to keep the kids happy.

kids, are you happy?

ashley called last night wanting to come over to pick up some of her things and i just need to mail those things because that whole thing is an open sore to me. i loved that girl very much. probably more than i divuldged in here. i told her i loved her all the time, so i guess thats all that matters. anyhow, now it's pretty painful to hear her voice or talk to her without my emotions spilling over, and many times those emotions are manifested in negative, loud, verbal anger. none of which she deserves. shes a good girl. she'll be better off without me. all i wanted to do was hold her hand and look at her. relationships should be more complex than that.

clippergirl only wants sex from me. thats a weird deal. i had that situation once and even though it wasnt with an nba cheerleader it was with a girl equally hot, but in a different way. i think im too olde now for those sorts of arrangements. your emotions find a way of making special guest appearences no matter how you try to stifle them. and it just isnt in the nature of souls to have the euphoria of kickass sexual lovin, the sweet words, the dirrty words, and the visuals, while simultaneously trying to pretend like everything was cool even when everything wasnt cool. basically i felt like i was spinning my wheels and just getting older.

getting old while banging one of the hottest babes in the galaxy isnt such a bad thing, i guess. but it is if youre the biggest dumbass in the world named tony who wants it all.

pretty much everything i thought i would be doing and having and being at this age im not doing and that frustrates me right now. i am writing. to you. and that part is nice. but not even that is what i want to be writing about. i dont even know what i want to be writing about, but writing about myself isnt it. theres way more interesting people out there like karisa who id rather write about since she leads such a crazy, fun, life, but shes such a private person that its ashame, cuz the phone conversations alone would be incredible to transcribe for your asses, you have no idea.

chopper one is being retooled right now and im bored. im sitting in the break room on a little imac they set up in here a few years ago. i have no idea why. but now im using it and my blog looks so much different on a mac. hi, blog.

hi, dumbass.

anyhow, just know theres lots of good stuff in store for this page and for the main page and as soon as i can find a little time i will be happy to make your visits here worthwhile. in the meantime, please click on the links on this page because a lot of those people are doing cool things.

and much love to those who continue to flow like my man Ajax

36. Ajax

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it's raining here in malibu so i let the dogs in, turned off the dss that keeps cutting in and out, and popped in a tape of the sopranos from the second season.

its the one where christafah has that strange sausage dream.

it might even be the first season cuz tony's mom is still on there and the kids look pretty young.

people laugh at me for having crap in my wood pile, but who's laughing now? i have two old chairs crackling in the fire right now, a new string of christmas lights over the hearth, and a toasty little den where im writing you as the dogs growl at shadows unaccustomed to being in the house at this hour. and all i can think of is you.

things have changed a lot since i first met you. the saddest being that instead of chasing my rum shots with coke, i now see diet pepsi bottles around instead of that familiar red logo. ive sold out in ways id never imagined.

this very nice lady was asking me the other day about taking acid and why she's never done it and one of the reasons was because she was afraid of flashbacks.

sometimes i get flashbacks about you.

they dont tell you when youre little that true love will haunt you and follow you around years after its gone. not just trippy little trails of a magical time, but full on bursts of feelings that release the endorphins and trigger the synapses and spin the wheels of madame lady luck that line up jackpot, jackpot, jackpot.

jackpot.

but i havent even been in love for so long.

jackpot.

but im just walking through the woods with the neighbor lady doing nothing but moshing around in the mud with our boots on squishing in the puddles.

jackpot.

who goes there? noone. no really, who the fuck goes there? no one. seriously come out come out.

listen to those waves. watch those shadows. crank up the beasties as we do donuts in the mud slicked zuma parkinglot laughing and nearly rolling her land rover with leather appointments and a moonroof that lets in just enough light thru the raindropped glass to give the interior the appearance of a discoball from a junior high sadie hawkins dance.

jackpot.

just like with acid, weed will bring on the probability of a flashback of the heart. and just like with acid, im so alone without you.

she calls me before i go to sleep and it's nice to talk to someone on a night like this with a voice like hers with stories like yours and legs like in seventh grade when i first appreciated my first sports illustrated bikini issue i just stared at those pictures and then at sears catalogues and jcpenny's and high school sitting on the bench of the basketball team watching the cheerleaders trying to figure out the mystery, all that porn, all those girlfriends, all the college girls, trade show girls, dot com girls, post dot com girls, and now blogger babes. youd think after 109 years i wouldnt be as fascinated any more but in some ways its worse.

they sit on their pulpit and preach against booze and gambling and things that will alter your mind and theres nothing worse than a pretty girl to make you question your beliefs. nothing like a hottie to make you flinch. nothing like sisters to turn you into some other asshole hundreds of times worse than you.

nothing like brains to make you dumb.

dawn olsen + chuck olsen + kate sullivan

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ive noticed that a lot of most backward ass countries where the men keep down the women are also the countries where people have to gather firewood and hay to fuel their homes. not like i have any advice for these third world governments, but maybe i do.

fellas: maybe if you let your babes do more than raise your children, cook, clean, and carry bales of hay, they could help you figure shit out so that you wouldnt have to use hay any more.

whatever. we have enough problems in america what with $2 per transaction if i want to pull $20 out of an ATM, ridiculous gasoline prices, and the fact that i can't get a McRib at McDonalds unless im having a lucky day.

So let's instead turn this post over to a dear freind who i dont talk about enough on here who we will call Sally who writes in today to tell me about her weekend and at the same time invites me over to take a cruise on her 40 foot sailboat.

morning, tony!!! how are you doing this morning? i just got in at 9:30 b/c i had the worst. sleep. ever. i don't know if it was the red wine or the steak that i had last night, but i woke up with the worst night sweats- like my bed was soaked! that hasn't happened in a long time. so i was basically up every 1/2 hour last night! ugh!

so how was your weekend? i see that there was another blogger party? you guys are so funny!!! how was it? and what is up with that story about the chic? is any of that true, tony??? ;) tell me!!! im sure most it was. oh shit was that my gf steph who i hooked you up with!? she did have a mighty big smile this morning.

you fucker!

i went out on friday to this cool club in the bev-1-9er called 'joya'- it was so much fun!!! lauren knew some chic who knew some dudes and we got to get a table and were drinking vodka and dom perignon. lauren was getting hit on by wesley snipes and i ran into kevin from the backstreet boys- it was pretty funny. it was a lot of fun dancing there- they played really good music.

on saturday, lauren, ted & i went to lunch at swingers, then went to the funky tea house, then shopping on melrose (me- window shopping, of course). then later on we went to this hopping club nacionale- it also was very cool! i liked it a lot- but i swear you have to be like the president to get in the place!!! it was nuts!

yesterday, i had to come into work actually.... then hung out with my friend abdi. we had dinner at this cool place and drank wine, played scrabble and watched the grammys.

i am definitely in rehab for the rest of the week.

can we please hang out VERY soon? tomorrow maybe? i know it might rain, but i have foul weather gear and it's always so much fun having some spiced cider or irish coffee after sailing in the rain.

i miss you!!!

tiffany + diary of an adulterer + gweilo diaries

# | |

a question arose on the blog panel discussion last night about self-censorship. theres a few things that i don't type on this blog because im pretty sure that nothing good will come of it. and that's politics and the Bible.

i also don't write about my workplace, my employer, my coworkers, the real job that i do, my neighbors, my family, the private lives of my excellent friends, things im planning to do in the near future, art, writing, my real fears, how my bowels move, my mp3 collection, the other girls who i date, many of the other blogs that i read, all the tv that i watch, how i hate my phone that does nothing but ring, my secret life, or my ever-growing baseball card collection.

so even though there was debate about how good of a question it was, it was actually pretty decent.

one reason i don't write about those things is because its important for my friends to trust me. it's also important for me to continue to find themes and details that are so general that they could apply in any situation.

its hard to explain, but instead of talking about a certain point in the Bible and concluding that Christianity is the way to go, i find it much less annoying just to stick with what i found interesting in the story, relate it to something contemporary and leave my fucking judgements to myself where they belong.

people write about dylans so-called Christian albums like they know something but they don't. they don't if theyre calling three or four of his records Christian.

some of his best songs are the full-on gospel tunes like "shot of love" and "saved" but tunes like "jokerman" actually have just as much biblical references, and yet Infidels is rarely pigeon-holed as one of his Christian albums. but who cares. i don't.

and i don't write about work cuz that's just stupid. and any guy who writes about the girls he dates is not only asking for trouble, but he's just not being cool. we still live in a world where getting naked and being loving freaks people out, so chill, shakespeare.

im just as shocked as the next guy each time a new girl pulls up her skirt, but the daily blog isnt really the right place to document those things. is it?

no.

the blog is about love.

most people read these things during work hours. and during the daily grind, it's my belief that sweet things are better to discuss than spicy ones.

but i don't really believe that either.

the truth is, i censor myself because i worry about the people who pay me now and the people who will pay me later.

even though it says nothing in here is true, what if someone wanted to hire me and either didn't read that or didn't get it and thought i was this type of person or that type of person.

im all types of people.

just like everyone is.

at the party last night i talked to one friend who got back from the willie nelson concert and two friends who got back from the holst opera.

anyhow, i censor myself, and i probably should censor myself more often, but at some point who really gives a fuck, some flukey crazy shit happens on the web sending a virus through the wrong combo of servers and this happy little accident gets deleted justlikethat, so we should all just live for the day and say what we wanna say. right?

hot chick, maybe twenty, called me this afternoon and asked if i wanted to meet her at her place and i said no i said i wanted to watch the grammys so she invited herself over and i said hi and she said you look taller on the web and i said hi and she said i like your hairdo and she came in and the place was still dirty from last night and she said i like your place and i said thanks, i had downloaded led zeppelin three all on one mpthree and she said nice bathroom and i said thanks and she pushed me up against he door and kissed me hard putting a hand on my head and the other hand on my chest and stuck her hips right up against mine.

the phone rang and i ignored it. she didn't let go of me as we spilled into the hallway and down on the hard wood robert plant was talking about no quarter and the curtains blew in the santa anas perfect day for bananna fish she had the best perfume on one day i should learn whats what i thought and she just wanted to make out it felt like because she didn't really grope the way young girls normally do and she was having fun just getting in the right positions for things to be rubbing the right way against stuff and her clothes were all on and im old that's the truth because when i was sixteen there would have been no way for me to stand straight up after rolling around like that with a girl who was wearing what this girl was wearing which wasnt much people.

the battle of evermore was next and she grabbed my hand and guided it and i wonder about kids in highschools these days i mean are cheerleaders trimming their she bit my tongue and i was back thinking of her, college girl, grad school i think she told me, which is funny because i grammar so badly that i cant believe that she goes to a private school and can still appreciate whatever the hell it is that im doing and whatever i was doing was the right thing because she didn't want me to move and there was a time when i woulda moved anyway but i grew up and she got in her little rhythm and breathed right in my ear and kept her eyes closed and licked her lips quickly and breathed through her mouth glossy from success and announced to my fucking block that she was coming and then followed up on her prediction.

wrapped in a down comforter now focused on the rain song i didn't say anything to her as she caught her breath and the television flickered in the next room.

and she took my hand and kissed it and put it near her breast and i could feel her heart racing and then she pushed it lower

past her pierced belly ring

past her stubbly shaved

and she asked me for no other reason than to just break the silence

do you like bush

and i said i think hes a fucking joke.

and she put back on her dress, hopped into her convertible, and drove back to wherever those girls all live.

buffoonery + marc brown + lago

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it only took mike tyson 49 seconds last night to knock out the black rhino, Clifford Etienne, who was ranked #31 in the world. etienne had a record of 24-1 going into the bout.

ive always been a fan of tyson's and im thrilled that he's not going away quietly.

im also thrilled to have gone to last night's blogger panel, on the hills above hollywood in the mark goodson theatre at the american film institute.

i feel at home in institutions.

blogger is going down in ten minutes so i have to make this quick, like tyson, so here's what i remember.

layne welch emannuelle heather eugene luke cathy rishawn and mickey put on a good show, and i dont know what people are saying about the merlot being bad, i drank it up and it was free and i thank whoever poured it for me.

the kids seemed to like my bald head and took pictures and made me feel good about myself, which is a pretty tough trick, so thank you. many took pictures, so expect to see them on the web throughout my campaign to become the next president of the united states. they're pretty incriminating.

i met lots of nice people like howard owens and his lovely bride who want to hook me up with a big breasted sista in berkeley, but since i like closer to burbank, i told them they should consider my buddy over at allaboutgeorge.

i also met joh3n and his buddy and his buddy's wife who gave me ten bucks after she told me that she had to ride the busses when she was at asu, and i told her that its not really a have-to, its a get-to in that if i cant find a ride home in someones car i can catch the bus and it allows me to drink free merlot in gatherings such as these.

last night i did have a companion who was mostly sober and totally hot and hung in there with me as we partied until three or four am over at the rabbit's spectacular bacholorette pad about a mile north of me. the cops showed up at two but only to rub my head.

i saw charlie and his wife(?) and bassart and shannon and axel and his wife and my attorney and her wife and ben. his wife was tired from seeing willie nelson at the wiltern.

los angeles was beautiful last night and it would have been nice if you had all been there.

my advice to the next panel: less guests, no more talk about the importance of blogs, why we blog, or hits. more talk about creative processes, innovations, predictions, and breaking down boundaries.

xeni and reverse cowgirl were there too looking punk rock and being as killer as they appear on the video stream.

yours in rock,

tony

35. dancing

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