1. Friday, September 19, 2003

    i just want to write. 

    is that so bad? i dont want to fight crime any more, or kiss girls any more, or take everyones paychecks in craps any more. at least not any more today. i just want to write.

    i want to be away from here. but i dont have a car. i dont have a plane. i dont have chopper one because its getting a new deck. i dont have a skateboard. i dont have a pogo stick. i dont have a dream girl in a foreign land who can wait like ten seconds for me to get to her. i dont even have a pocketful of mischief. i need a weekend but im not even going to get that cuz the emmys are in town and all the coppers are going to be at the shrine and all the bad guys are going to be everywhere else and where theres bad theres the xbi and where theres the xbi theres me in the shadows telling people what to do. the field general. the qb. the master of puppets. the bullet in blue sky.

    i dont want to be doing this any more. even though its exciting. even though its nice to know everything thats going on in this fair city at all times. even though it means that we can read your emails and listen to your phone convos and see through your house and xray vision through your frankie bs. all i want is a light at the end of the tunnel and if its a bud light im going to hurt someone.

    i want i dont want i want i dont want. i sound like a baby. im not a baby. im someone who thought everything was going to be one way and then it turns out to be the total opposite, as in total as in toe tall. my buddy saw the black flag renuion at the palladium the other day and i had to pretend that i wasnt there but i was. and he told me that he booed and i told him that i woulda booed too. how can you have a black flag reunion in hollywood at the palladium and there be no rollins and no keith morris. you remember how great i told you keith was at sunset junction with the circle jerks.

    twenty seven fifty and no rollins and no morris isnt punk rock, its reason to start a riot. and in my day thats exactly what we woulda done. especially if the palladium was involved. i remember so many fights there. one during the beasties run dmc grand master flash tour where there were fights before the show during and after. someone even stole grandmaster flashs shoes and after the show mike d had to get on the mic get get on the mic and say will whoever stole grandmaster flashs adidases please throw them back on the stage. and stuff was thrown but not that.

    shit. they had just given us the right to party!

    best part about chopper one being grounded and me having to work the field is that i dont have to shower. or shave. its my gameface. if im going to be walking around, not riding in a car, but walking, lurking, scheming, plotting, i like to be stinky and dirty and filthy and sweaty. i like to look like those around me on western avenue. i like to drink a little so i have some rum on my breath. that way when i ask someone where paco is they will think im one of them instead of one of us and they point to a half closed gargage door and i notice the tagging and i say, duh, of course.

    sixth street loco lords.

    you dont want to kick down a door smelling of dove. you want to kick down the door smelling of hate. its good to piss your pants sometimes. just a little bit. its good to wear shoes that have paint sprinkled on them so it looks like you stand outside of home depot in the dawns early light leaning up against a brick wall and rushing any car van or suv. its good to have stubble. its good to wear a three for ten dollar tshirt. its good to blend in. and its better to win.

    we found our bad guy and he was watching fraternity life on mtv and all the shit was right next to him and his homies werent ready and we got them all and one of the guys wanted to shoot someone to send a message and i said paco my buddy wants to shoot somebody tell us who we should shoot and paco looked at his guys and the tension was unbelievable because the xbi doesnt fuck around and we have nobody to answer to but death and there hasnt been an xbi agent die since winter and it might have been one of us who did it so choose big man choose.

    and paco looked to one of the guys and then at the other guy who was looking right at him and then at a third guy who was looking down showing his shaved head glimmering in the friday afternoon sunshine of thai town and then at another guy who was mumbling his prayers to himself cuz paco doesnt fuck around either full of tattoos almost all virgin marys amost all in spanish and almost all old and jailmade and he nodded his head at his buddy and we said him and he nodded and we said say his name and paco looked away and said the guys name and we said are you ready and the guy said softly fuck you paco man.

    and we squeezed the trigger

    and paco fell

    and the others are now our bitches.

    and i totally want a slurpee.

    trueboy + j_e_g + rabbit