1. Tuesday, July 27, 2004

    i know i have a problem. 

    a blogging problem. i know that theres nothing i can do to control it, so i dont try to control it.

    what i dont know is why i cant get someone to let me blog for them.

    and yes, ive asked people to let me do it.

    for a pretty reasonable rate, if you ask me.

    last night i got home, talked on the phone to a nice young woman who told me all sorts of sex stories. some about big strong men and what she likes them to do to her. some about pretty little women and what she likes to do to them.

    it was driving me nuts, and because she lives on the other side of the country i asked her to leave me be so i could make some dinner. but instead she told me about how great i was with her back in the days where she and i had sex.

    so i stayed on the phone a few more minutes to let her finish her thought.

    and then my true love called, and we talked. and then i had to finish watching Big Brother from last week.

    and then i found it was 10pm and it was time for me to start watching the 7 hours of C-SPAN coverage of the DNC convention.

    now i am no political expert, and i hope i dont come across as being one.

    i am the embodiment of a monday morning quarterback when it comes to politics. i know enough to be dangerous, i have access to the web, i have access to some very smart people who tell me if im way off base or sorta off base.

    and then i have you.

    after about 10 minutes of the convention i knew i wanted to blog all of it. all 7 hours.

    i knew there was no way i could do that and get to bed at 3am, which is my bedtime when i know i want to do something big on my blog, as that will afford me four hours of beauty sleep.

    which explains my rugged looks.

    and now im writing you at 4:20pm, my second 15 minute break, because i HAVE to write because i feel like i havent written anything chit-chatty all day.

    its a problem i have, and i am searching for someone to take advantage of it.

    if i worked for a newspaper that said, pierce, i want two columns a day and a news article, i would say, sure thing boss.

    if i worked for a website that said, tony, we want you to contribute to this group blog five times during the day and three times at night, i would say, sign me up.

    but instead i get people who are all, whazza blog?

    or i get people who go BRILLIANT, i’ll get back to you. but they dont get back to me.

    i look around the blogosphere and nobody is doing half of what i do. some give snarkly little partisan links. some write once or twice a week. some bitch and moan in little paragraphs, but how many of them do all the things i do? mixing it up between writing fake shit and real shit, the photos, the links to the kids and the adults, the sports, the politics, the dating, the violence?

    i could bust with the poems if im forced to.

    i WILL bust with the poems if im forced to.

    and yet my emails dont get returned. and yet i dont get respect from those in high places, and i get called out when i simply ask for a trinket from the blogosphere, an ipod.

    begging, they accused me. as if i would fucking beg for an ipod.

    all im doing is what the good book suggests, which is asking in order to receive.

    and i have received. and i will add to the list of people who have flowed, but i cant right now because my break is nearly over.

    all i want to do, in closing, is thank all of you for contributing in all the ways that you contribute. i appreciate the nice comments, and the nice emails. i appreciate the money and the gifts and the ladies who fly here and let me have my way with them.

    which happens more than i let on.

    and mostly i am appreciative to your readership. which is all that i really need. regardless if you comment, or flow, or flash.

    writers need readers and this writer is thankful.

    so, thank you for enabling my addiction.

    cellar door guitar + the mollusk + popie