nothing in here is true

  1. Friday, January 31, 2003

    fun with old emails 

    today we will start a new feature where we dig through old emails sent to me, take them out of context, slightly, get rid of the beginnings and ends, and put them next to a picture of a wild animal.

    oh, and not mention who they were from.

    consider this project #1, specially processed for your sweet asses

    Dear Tony,

    You know what might help is those paraffin wax dips. Like at a manicurists.

    Bet that would feel good.

    Speaking of Bukkake, did you read today, I was aghast, good stuff

    So u going to write full time??!

    Maybe you need more rest, or get your girl to type for you.

    I’d do it for you

    if I was your girl.

    And I’d make sure you spelt all the words right too.

    Cause I’m just that kind of girl

    Arrrgh, tomorrow is QOTSA (I think it’s at Palladium?)! But you have to come by with Karisa after the gallery opening.

    Whereabouts is it?

    The Argyle is on Sunset.

    Traffic is off the hook! Biggest day so far! 400 between noon yesterday and

    today.! Fuck me!

    Saturday we are going to see Puppetry of the Penis at the Coronet. You have

    to check out their website. Looks hilarious!

    No! You rule!

    I just posted a pic

    Tell me quick if I should take it down

    I think it’s funny

    the blog of the century of the week

  2. Public Enemy 

    It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back

    Def Jam Records

    “Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos”

    I got a letter from the government

    The other day

    I opened and read it

    It said they were suckers

    They wanted me for their army or whatever

    Picture me given a damn I said never

    Here is a land that never gave a damn

    About a brother like me and myself

    Because they never did

    I wasn’t wit’ it but just that very minute…

    It occured to me

    The suckers had authority

    Cold sweatin’ as I dwell in my cell

    How long has it been?

    They got me sittin’ in the state pen

    I gotta get out – but that thought was thought before

    I contemplated a plan on the cell floor

    I’m not a fugitive on the run

    But a brother like me begun – to be another one

    Public enemy servin’ time – they drew the line y’all

    To criticize me some crime – never the less

    They could not understand that I’m a Black man

    And I could never be a veteran

    On the strength, the situation’s unreal

    I got a raw deal, so I’m goin’ for the steel

    They got me rottin’ in the time that I’m servin’

    Tellin’ you what happened the same time they’re throwin’

    4 of us packed in a cell like slaves – oh well

    The same motherfucker got us livin’ is his hell

    You have to realize – what its a form of slavery

    Organized under a swarm of devils

    Straight up – word’em up on the level

    The reasons are several, most of them federal

    Here is my plan anyway and I say

    I got gusto, but only some I can trust – yo

    Some do a bid from 1 to 10

    And I never did, and plus I never been

    I’m on a tier where no tears should ever fall

    Cell block and locked – I never clock it y’all

    ‘Cause time and time again time

    They got me servin’ to those and to them

    I’m not a citizen

    But ever when I catch a C-O

    Sleepin’ on the job – my plan is on go-ahead

    On the strength, I’ma tell you the deal

    I got nothin’ to lose

    ‘Cause I’m goin’ for the steel

    You know I caught a C-O

    Fallin’ asleep on death row

    I grabbed his gun – then he did what I said so

    And everyman’s got served

    Along with the time they served

    Decency was deserved

    To understand my demands

    I gave a warnin’ – I wanted the governor, y’all

    And plus the warden to know

    That I was innocent –

    Because I’m militant

    Posing a threat, you bet it’s fuckin’ up the government

    My plan said I had to get out and break north

    Just like with Oliver’s neck

    I had to get off – my boys had the feds in check

    They couldn’t do nuthin’

    We had a force to instigate a prison riot

    This is what it takes for peace

    So I just took the piece

    Black for Black inside time to cut the leash

    Freedom to get out – to the ghetto – no sell out

    6 C-Os we got we ought to put their head out

    But I’ll give ’em a chance, cause I’m civilized

    As for the rest of the world, they can’t realize

    A cell is hell – I’m a rebel so I rebel

    Between bars, got me thinkin’ like an animal

    Got a woman C-O to call me a copter

    She tried to get away, and I popped her

    Twice, right

    Now who wanna get nice?

    I had 6 C-Os, now it’s 5 to go

    And I’m serious – call me delirious

    But I’m still a captive

    I gotta rap this

    Time to break as time grows intense

    I got the steel in my right hand

    Now I’m lookin’ for the fence

    I ventured into the courtyard

    Followed by 52 brothers

    Bruised, battered, and scarred but hard

    Goin’ out with a bang

    Ready to bang out

    But power from the sky

    And from the tower shots rang out

    A high number of dose – yes

    And some came close

    Figure I trigger my steel

    Stand and hold my post

    This is what I mean – an anti-nigger machine

    If I come out alive and then they won’t – come clean

    And then I threw up my steel bullets – flew up

    Blew up, who shot…

    What, who, the bazooka was who

    And to my rescue, it was the S1Ws

    Secured my getaway, so I just gotaway

    The joint broke, from the black smoke

    Then they saw it was rougher thatn the average bluffer

    ‘Cause the steel was black, the attitude exact

    Now the chase is on tellin’ you to c’mon

    53 brothers on the run, and we are gone

    matt welch

  3. i couldnt be a fashion designer 

    all i would end up with would be plaid skirts, leather pants, cheerleader sweaters, and go go boots.

    nobody wants a line like that.

    the academy sent over adaptation last night. i didnt have anyone to watch it with which was actually good because i was working on the website for my attorney. i watched it once and didnt really like it but i thought that was maybe because i was working as i was watching it. so then after i was done working i watched it again and still i didnt like it.

    a movie about writing a movie is sorta lame. sorry. and did anything really happen? was anything resolved? i get it that thats what the screenwriter was talking about but, wtf, spike?

    there were about two spike jonez moments in the whole film if you dont count the excellent trick photography during the scenes where nick cage plays his twin brother, but so what?

    am i to believe that women would fall for a guy just because he’s a good writer? that it doesnt matter if he’s fat and balding and unattractive and lives with his brother? does charlie kaufman really want me to think that gorgeous women in hollywood really just want a man who’s smart and funny and positive and knows how to tell a good story?

    like that would ever happen in a million years.

    and then theres meryl streep, am i supposed to believe that she would fall for a toothless hick just because he gets obsessive about things?

    who the fuck is writing this movie? this is no movie, it’s a nerd’s wet dream, but it’s not even that, it’s the story of a nerd writing about writing about a nerd’s wet dream. bullshit i say. bull fucking shit.

    i want spike jonez to do better, please.

    youre the best director out there. dont waste nick cage and meryl streep like that with that bullshit script.

    i dont care that all of hollywood is falling all over themselves to get to charlie kaufman. a few years ago everyone was trying to get to arsenio.

    plus the characters were all flat.

    plus you cant have gurus in good stories. especially gurus who accept an invite to a fucking bar and help the protaganist over a brew and does such a wonderful job guruing that he gets a hug and changes the poor schmuck’s life. fuck that. it’s too easy. and it’s completely unrealistic outside of in bad books and movies.

    in the wee hours after i watched the movie for a second time i popped in grand theft auto and ran over a bunch of people in my stolen cop car and went to bed forgetting that i hadnt locked my front door, but remembering that i got my first real life fan letter from a very interesting woman in new mexico who fancies herself a lithographer.

    thank you for your letter and cool drawings!

    and ashley im still waiting for my key


  4. Thursday, January 30, 2003

    dear major newspaper or magazine, please let me work for you. 

    tony pierce?


    hi, we’re a major newspaper or magazine.

    oh hi. Hi!

    yes, we would like to hire you.

    praise Jesus.

    we wont pay you much.

    thats ok.

    you wont get to write anything good right away.

    thats fine.

    we’ll make you write in our patented style.

    thats cool.

    you wont get a very nice desk or window.

    who cares?

    we’ll call you nigger boy.

    ive been called worse.

    you probably wont get promoted for a while.

    thats nothing new.

    we wont give you any coffee.

    i dont like coffee.

    and no smoke breaks.

    i dont smoke either.

    do you think this is some sort of joke or something?


    i dont like your attitude.

    but i dont have an attitude.

    yes you do, its a positive attitude.

    trust me, it’s fake.

    do you really date all those girls?

    what girls? oh, yes.

    and you really have all those friends?

    i actually have way more.

    and youre saying you dont have a positive attitude?

    im saying its a fake positive attitude.

    so youre lying all day?

    sometimes if youre bummed and you start seeing things as bummed then that can spiral into even more bummed. same goes if youre happy. if you fake being happy, sometimes nice things happen to you for no good reason.

    you would never fit in here.

    thats ok, i dont fit in anywhere.

    kitty bukakke on fire

  5. fell asleep on the lap of the clipper girl 

    last night as she stroked my ‘fro and told me that it was ok that i pass out, that i had had a long day and i work at a place that doesnt understand my genius or my coolness under pressure or my happy-go-lucky nature.

    she said that not everyone knows that when i smile it’s not always a happy smile, that sometimes it’s a nervous smile, or a smile to cover super sadness or freaked-out-ness. everything is a fake out. everything is high school sports. everything is trying to outwit the opponent into thinking that youre the fucking man.

    and everyone is the opponent.

    clipper girl kissed my forehead and asked me if i was interested in having her spend the night.

    i said, what happened to our movie?

    she said, its over sweetie.

    i asked, was it good?

    she said, if you have to ask… then she laughed.

    she laughs at all of her own jokes. i like that cuz i do the same damn thing.

    at night i was having a nightmare and she held me and told me it was going to be alright.

    i said, i dont think it is gonna be all right.

    she said, it might not ever be all right.

    i said all right.

    nothing better than a girl you can trust.

    then neither of us could get back to sleep so we talked real soft, whispering at each other and watching the clock change from 3:04am to 3:05am and she asked me if i wanted to get a haircut after work at her girlfriend’s salon.

    i told her that i would rather go to the barbershop in the hood that i like to go to.

    she said i would like her girlfriend’s salon.

    i said, no i didnt think i would.

    then she said she wanted to have a midnight snack and i told her i was on a diet and she got out of bed walked out to the kitchen with that fine ass, fixed up a banana split with chocolate sauce on the top and came back into bed with that shit and offered me a taste, but all i got was mostly whipped creme.

    which isnt so bad when you think about it.

    the next best thing from la is coming

  6. strippergram showed up at my door 

    with triple d breasteses, a six pack, and an academy screener of The Good Girl.

    the academy has figured out that i fall asleep during these movies if they get sent over too late in the eve, so ive been getting this shit pretty much right after i get home from the office.

    im not a big fan of Friends. i probably have only seen three episodes all the way through. maybe four.

    fuck friends.

    but i am a big fan of the independent film office space which starred the friends chick and the good girl has a similar tone of subtle humor.

    i wish i knew some subtle humor.

    me and clipper girl were sitting around watching american idol the other night and she said, “you havent thought of a good video game in a while. think of one right now.”

    shes a super cute girl and for some reason she always inspires me.

    so i said, ok, its called Back From The Dead and what you can be is an assassinated hero like martin luther king jr. or ghandi or jfk or joan of ark or someone and you walk around the city and you get to blow away bad people and your goal is to snuff out enough of them that you get to go head to head against a giant version of whoever it was who assasinated you.

    only problem is the cops dont know that youre Back From The Dead, plus you’re leaving a trail of blood behind you from your mortal wound, so youre pretty easy to follow, so its a good idea to ask someone nicely if you can use their car.

    most people wont let you so you might have to steal it when they go shopping.

    joan of ark is constantly on fire so you have to make sure that she doesnt get too close to trees or children else they will start on fire.

    clipper girl yawned. not at all impressed.

    sounds like a grand theft auto ripofff she said and inspected her toenail polish.

    ah yes, but the real game is Back From the Deal Online where you can team up with some of your favorite martyrs and form a gang and roam the streets like a herd and become one of the strangest troupes around.

    problems walking around with abe lincoln with a hole in his hat or jfk with most of his face blown off is that you not only attract crowds but also paparazzi who are constantly telling the press where you are.

    so you have to keep moving.

    dont stop.

    today im getting a haircut.

    mc brown’s super bowl party pictures

  7. Wednesday, January 29, 2003

    my girlfriend pamela anderson 

    me and my girlfriend drink tallboy cans of whatever and hold hands and make out on the way home from the movies in the shadows of doorways, and up against fences, upside a mailbox, next to the sea.

    she says the best things. she likes diamond rings.

    first time we met i was like holy mackeral.

    first time i kissed her

    i was like holy mackeral.

    some things shouldnt be. and theres no way that i should have any of the things i have.

    and you might not know this but i was a pretty fair skateboarder back in the day

    you could have seen me nearly ever night skating next to the pacific on the rough streets of isla vista littered with dried out palm fronds, the skeletons of burnt couches, and shoes

    not sober not awake not waving, drowsy,

    and then suddenly downhill

    i discovered that some of the best things about daily life

    are the moments where it makes no sense

    in a good way

    and youre pulling it off.

    so i hold my girlfriend’s hand a lot so i can remind myself

    that it’s real

    like anythings real.

    midnight magica

  8. Tuesday, January 28, 2003

    can i tell you anything? 

    how on earth can i tell you anything? id like to tell you anything.

    let me tell you this. i was having a shitty night. then i came home and a bunch of people had given me money.

    thank you people who gave me money.

    10. krix

    11. brett lamb

    12. eric n.

    13. brian

    you have no idea how happy it all made me.

    this is the biggest win win game i could think of. i win because you are getting me a new ride. and i win because each flowage boosts my spirits that much higher.

    big difference between hell and earth is that in hell when things become shitty you sorta expect it so it’s not all that bad. plus everyone around you is getting it really bad too.

    meanwhile on earth, if something bad happens to you its fucked up because no one else seems to be suffering, plus, here we all think things should be peachy every damn second.

    even though nothing has ever been peachy every damn second.

    you guys have known for a long time that i never liked being an xbi agent. i still dont.

    even though chopper one is flying better than ever, tonight i walked home and thought i was about to cry.

    then i thought about how the only job i could get right away would probably be teaching.

    then i thought how i would be a rotten teacher.

    but, if you listen to my bosses, im pretty fucking rotten at all my other gigs, so who cares if i influence the youth of america in the wrong way?

    if i were to teach, youre going to laugh, but the class that i would love to teach the most is the Bible as Literature.

    did i tell you that one of my new years resolutions is to read the Bible every day?

    it is, and ive done it.

    i love the Bible.

    im so fucked.

    so anyway, chopper one cant really talk or think, but it can, and it does, and it said, quit if you want to but only pussy ass bitches would quit right now.

    ive influenced a half billion dollar machine.


    if i could tell you anything right now it would be im totally disatisfied

    confused pissed bitter scared sad angry horrified

    anxious aching worrisome hungry

    and ready for the worst.

    i gotta quench you cant thirst.

    raymi’s secret blog

  9. elitist? 

    people will call you the strangest names, sometimes i wonder if they even think about what theyre typing.

    elitism would suggest that i would think of myself better than others. and only mingle with a select group. take one look at my friends and you will see that i hang out with a wide variety of saints and sinners, obviously having no standard whatsoever in chosing friends other than in their ability to hold their liquor and be wonderful.

    plus i just spent a month in hell where i admited i belonged.


    i look down my nose at such a slur.

    from the back seat of the #21 ucla metro bus as it bounces through koreatown, where all us elitists congregate.

    how can a man who writes so incessantly about himself continue to be so misunderstood?

    because i dont kiss the ass of each and every person who crosses my path?

    ive kissed the asses of some and it came back to bite me in the ass.

    elitist. hardly.

    how can one be elitist when he is nothing but a common panhandler with nothing but a colorful sign that says little more than gimme.

    speaking of which, those of you who would like to give more or less than $10 all you have to do is click the picture in this post of my girl donna f. from the donnas.

    yes i like girls.

    no im not ashamed.

    and i freaking love the donnas.

    and i freaking love all of you.

    even the stinky ones.

    (but not the super stinky ones who tell me to fuck off in the aol chat as if i was the bitch ass and not vous)

    thank you to these nice people who flowed to the busblog:

    4. kim t.

    5. matthew

    6. orion

    7. matt m.

    8. timothy

    9. lane

    and this chick better start writing on her thing or i will be pissed