1. Tuesday, May 6, 2003

    for cinco de mayo 

    christina aguelera knocked on my door and told me she’d do me if i spelled her name right in my blog.

    my dick hasnt been so happy with me lately.

    it’s been all, dude, i can turn on you over night. youre not a young pup anymore. i can make you pee at all hours of the night. i can fall asleep on you when you need me the most. like nine inch nails, i can make you hurt.

    i was all, quit giving me the middle finger every morning and maybe i’ll be better to you.

    my hearts been giving me the middle finger a lot lately too.

    my hair’s falling out. my guts sticking out. my teeth are eroding. my souls exploding.

    only thing doing what its supposed to are my knees, which are there for me every night as i pray for that one special girl to not care so much how i spell her name.

    cubs lost yesterday lakers lost yesterday guy at work told me that some guy at the chicago tribune told all the cubs fans that yeah theyre still in first place but heres a list of reasons why they wont be there in october.

    and i asked the guy if the guy put Because the Tribune Owns Them on the top of the list?

    and the guy said no.

    sellout.

    waiting for the train this morning i paced around thinking about charles bukowski. my hero. i was thinking about how he lived about a mile away from that subway station about 50 years ago, broke, drunk, ugly, lonely. i thought about how he would type and type and never bitch. just tell the facts.

    i thought about how he would work when he had to and he would drink. how he would see a woman who didnt look too repulsive whose run up her stocking took an interesting turn, and how he’d hook up with her. how he never bothered with counting how many he’d had, or feeling guilty about the number. how he never worried about his age, how many moons he saw, how his hairline was.

    i thought about how he knew he was the fucking shit on the typewriter and how his poems stood out like a sore thumb in the twentieth century and still all the lady men raked in all the fame fortune fun.

    i love bukowski cuz he never bitched.

    the facts are last night i didnt get any, though i could have. i didnt get some although minds would have been blown.

    none was got, none was done, i was alone, but i wasnt alone.

    chatted with a law student girl far away who said the nicest things to me.

    wished for a while that i was 103.

    robin + tiffany + tobasco guy