busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, April 26, 2005

    the year was nineteen ninety 

    it was a more simpler time. when the first president bush sent us to iraq it was fucked up but no americans died. except those who shot each other on accident or smashed their helicopters against the ground.

    saddam was still in power with his rape rooms but we were all its cool its cool. iraqis had the right to vote – they had the right to vote for anyone named saddam hussein. and again it was all good cuz even though these were the days of imbeciles youd also get voted out after a while.

    like i say, they were simpler times.

    didnt matter what radio station you listened to there was always something good on. they even tried to ruin it with pearl jam and stone temple fuckups but it just ended up sounding pretty decent no matter what they threw at us.

    gasoline was ninety nine cents a gallon, girls would blow you on the first date without thinkng twice about it, and if you had a computer with a 40 MB hard drive you were so far ahead of the game it was retarded. i remember asking my roommate what the hell are we going to do with 40 megs – fly to the moon?

    matt welch and i were 16 years old and we were allowed into ucsb early because we destroyed all over their standardized tests. me, i also had an incredible letter of recommendation from the mayor of my town and welch had pictures of the former chancellor with his nanny. we were set.

    part of our scholarship was an agreement that we would give back to the community. of course we thought that it meant that we would either do some male modeling or supervise the amount of sunscreen that the coeds were using on the beach. when we were presented with the option of coaching 9 and 10 year old kids baseball, welch and i jumped at the chance.

    with visions of undefeated seasons and decades of dynasties we scoffed at the santa barbara little league officials who told us that we were getting the worst team and considered it a minor challenge.

    when we lost our first game 79-2 we understood what we were up against.

    i had one kid hunting for strawberries in right field, i had one kid in the early stages of gang warfare at third base, and i had one adorable little chubby cheeked angel pissing his pants in the batters box.

    1990. it was a season i will never forget. when my college girlfriend jeanine posted this picture to her buzznet page yesterday and i did the math and realized as welchie did that all these kids were either college grads by now or dead or in iraq it really brought home the olde saying that time really does fly.

    it does my friends so do something memorable every spring.

  2. gorilla mask was just another blog 

    not that long ago, thats the best part. ryan was funny, true, he had decent design, he had a few good things going on but i think even he would admit that it came across as what it was – something a dude in college did on the side when he wasnt beating off to american pie screen caps.

    but recently the mask has evolved into a top shelf daily stop for those in the know.

    even at his most crude, ryan perry has always had above average design and witty writing, but over the last six months the mask has hit a higher gear by trimming down on writing and bumping up the posts by picking the best links of each day.

    this is a tricky segment of the blogosphere to compete in because there are several excellent blogs doing similar things with their own twists and speciaties: goldenfidle, gawker, low culture, pink is the new blog, stereogum, defamer, the superficial, and of course the granddaddy of them all fark

    gorilla mask is my rss reader of all of the above. he plucks only the best fruits from the tallest and greenest trees and presents them to me along with spankable nude celebrity cameos nearly every day.

    theres so much content on the main gorilla mask page that i have yet to find myself in need to visit his messageboards but one day i will be that bored. im sure. yes, one day.

    which brings us to today. today the gmask made the announcement that we were all waiting for, the new Gorilla Mask Death Pool has opened its doors for the ryan perry year of 2005. like all good kings, rp doesnt acknowledge a year has begun until his birthday is celebrated, which means that the 2005 Death Pool wont start until next month, plenty of time to research which men and women you think will meet their maker over the next twelve months.

    last year everyone picked pope john paul jr., myself included, and perhaps choosing scott weiland to meet his early demise was simply wishful thinking on my part, but i think i have an abe vigoda on my list right next to regis, andy rooney, and papa ratzi. ive found that it never hurts to have a pope on your death pool list, but what do i know, i never do well at these things.

    anyway, much busblog love to the gorilla mask. if i ever had the inclination to change the design of this blog or to start a Lick for boys i would seriously consider ryan as the dude who designed it. either him or canadian rocker matthew good. or raymi.

    excuse me now while i examine claudia schiffer in her natural enviornment of looking totally hot after all these years and not giving a fuck.

    abe vigoda is alive + 1115 + riley dog

  3. how can it onlyg b be 148 

    how could i have drank that much. why is it that i want to write about it.

    sixteen plus six is what she told me and i was all baby im drunk the bible says dont drink until youre drunk and im drunk and she said sixteen plus six sixteen plis sex

    of course i saw her at the centipede machine. every girl i know loves centipede i told her. she said something but i couldnt hear her since her friend kdtp shouting something ni my ear.

    get the fuck away is apparently what he was saying but i get slightly deatf sometimes when im drunk all i can feel is the bass line all i want is the whole world and all that xbi training kicked in and its you me and rock

    wanna oplay doubles

    you cant play doubleds on centeabpede

    sure you can lets play

    SHE DOESNT WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU PAL

    lately ive been called some peretty funny things. sir is my favorite because i get that on the phone and i alwyas say this inst england this nbsnt france this is america call me what everyone else calls me, dumbfuck.

    adn sure enough whe and i came back to the crib and there was some pboose levetf over and all was real nice like cuz everythings always nice like in the summer before

    she said she lighted a candle for me and i said whats that and she said i read your thing the other day and i lighted a candle for you cyuz you asked everyone to do that and i did and i wanted to tell you that/

    and of course her buddy tagged along and i said make him go get something and she said what what and first i thought a nice pie and then i though how about a six foot bong like what anti shas and then i thought how about ta atp a tpo a top hat.

    she was all no lets make him get us something that he actually gocould get and i said i want a pie and dhe said is the house of pies still openm and i said i love you and she said is it and i said no sadly no and she said fine then lets make him get a six foot bong and when he got out fo the bathromm he was about to sit down adn dhe reached into her tiny purcwe and pulled out four or fice wtnties and said i reamlly want to get our little frined here good and baked so could you go to hollywoond blvd and get us a six foor bong

    and then we can go home

    and thats all it took and bro was out of the house and the great part about this part of the story is that nothing in here is truye right right k so she got op and started dancing right there right in front of me right wth the tv flickering through her lil white skirt white legs whit e thighs closed eyes

    do not gdrink so that youre drunk i kept hearing which is good because as ive gottnm old ehr ive l;evned that sometimes its gooed to think of anything else excpet for the girl on tope of you. anything. its the catchiest of all the catch twenty twos aka sicksteen plys six

  4. Monday, April 25, 2005

    a year ago 

    today

    lest anyone think that i would defoul my beautiful wife’s ass with my special purpose, let it be known that when i talk about the beautiful love that i make on this blog, im never talking about the intimate details between myself and my betroved.

    moxie and i have a little arrangement. yes shes my wife, but only in the marital sense. i dont tell her what to do with her body and she doesnt tell me what to do with mine. our only deal is that we’ll be safe and not bring anything back to the homestead.

    the relations that i have with my love is caring and loving and beautiful. what i do outside the home, however, well, thats usually the stuff that i would never do with the woman who will one day bear my children.

    thats how they do it in europe, and thats how we agreed it will be done here.

    other similarities: we drink a lot of wine, take long naps, and go on strike as much as possible during the summer months.

    right now im in a new girls apartment. i cant really remember what we did last night in much detail but i know she ordered pasta at 1am from a place called berries. we were watching the Restaurant, that stupid reality docudrama about that jimmy fallon lookalike rocco someone who has a restaurant and always screws it up.

    she was smoking some jamacian shit and suddenly got the munchies and dialed information and then the transfered her over to berries and bam within minutes she had rigattoni and meatballs.

    she ate so much so fast she had to puke. and i was all so thats how all you west hollywood girls stay so thin. and she was all shut up and jumped on me after brushing her teeth and within minutes we were asleep.

    so now im listening to the pixies trying to write to you from her lil laptop. its a powerbook something. i cannot repeat how disappointed i am in the good people of apple for not having the right click button. fucking apple invented the mouse, why are they trying to keep it real by keeping the right click button away from their loyal users?

    im listening to the pixies in minnesota 4/13/04 which i see is being sold on ebay for $61. am i a prick if i burned a copy to sell it on ebay? for some reason i think i am. but the pixies arent going to sell that thing any time soon, are they? shit i dont know. i know if i had a band id have a huge tip jar on stage that said “give us 50% of all the shit you stole from us. or give us 100% of all tips youd like to give us.”

    shes got blue eyes and soft thighs. little plastic cups cuz she doesnt like cleaning up. the meatballs last night had a little bread in the middle of it and it reminded me of chicago. i brought my tivo over and we were watching the mclaughlin group and a cubs game and old videos and some woddy allen.

    so now im typing you and ignoring the typos because a guy she likes might call her to go to breakfast, and the best part about having a wife is i dont care if she has breakfast with this fool or not. and because i dont give a fuck she wants me even more. now shes saying shes hot and she is hot. she says no its fucking hot in herre and i say turn on that ceiling fan and she says she cant cuz shes allergic to dust and theres probably an inch of winter dust on there that shes got to wait for her lady to come over and dust before she even can think about that ceiling fan.

    and shes gone through four or five costume changes. from jeans and a sleeveless shirt to a cord skirt and a one armed shirt to a bikini top and a flowery skirt. it just keeps getting hotter as we approach noon and so does she.

    now its fatboy slim on her itunes “10th and Crenshaw”. if it wasnt for girls i wouldnt listen to half the muysic i end up listening to. now she wants to eat with me. i teller to wait for her man. she says hes not gonna call. i say wait. she says shes hungry. i say you ate all that pasta lasta nighta. she said uh … remember. and i was all, oh yeah….

    i just asked her to chill for a minute while i finish this and she said want some oj and i said oh yeah, yes! and she brought one up in another plastic cup but she added a splash of vodka and when i turned around to say thanks i saw that she had made a fourth costume change. a catholic girl skirt with a tshirt that said do me.

    seacrest out.

    ciavarro + the holy writer + wren + just a girl

  5. went to the mcdonalds today for lunch 

    it was packed because ronald mcdonald hisself was scheduled to make an appearance.

    his advancemen, Grimace, and some weird bird looking chick were already there shaking hands with the little tykes.

    the kids were confused.

    they kept screaming ronald ronald! until someone said, thats not ronald.

    then the kids would cry and drop their ice milk cone or little toy.

    who expected such free entertainment at noon?

    my crying children glee was crushed when some woman handed me a flier telling me that this week was Turn Off Your TV Week.

    why do people who hand me this shit always have canvas bags?

    canvas bags filled with paper that will get tossed on the ground as quickly as it’s read scanned?

    the babe who drove me to the restaurant was leaving but not before i reminded the woman that this country was founded on television.

    she said no it was not!

    i said look it up in one of your fancy books! i said after al gore invented it, THATS when the italians decided to come to america, to see what shit we had on our tvs.

    the woman was clearly shocked that someone wouldnt agree with her fascist agenda.

    turn off the tv!

    i said, why dont you stop buying gasoline for a week? mankind has lived thousands of years without petrolium fueled automobiles.

    she said, i have to take my kids around.

    i said bullpucky. get the kids on the bus. let them learn first hand what its like to save the planet. they take the bus to get to school, let them take the bus to the grocery store. when you can only eat what you can carry you end up not buying so much crap i told her and slammed the passenger side door and dug into my french fries.

    and took a big suck of chocolate shake.

    she said read a book!

    i said woman i write a book a year dont tell me what to do. this is america. only the religious right can tell me what to do. and we sped off without signaling properly. cuz we’re punkrock.

    laura + mefi is all over this + zulieka + tiffany in prague

  6. hi elian gonzalez 

    hi tony pierce. i mean leave me alone sir, i dont speak english.

    oh come on bro. its me. tony.

    i know, i just cant talk to you, we’re still celebrating my 5 year anniversary from when i was returned to cuba.

    are people treating you well there?

    of course, im a fucking star.

    why do they have you dressed up like a campfire girl then?

    dude its not the campfire girls, its traditional commie kiddie wear. they stole that shit from us.

    looks gay. just sayin.

    shut up.

    so how they treating you down there?

    like a damn king.

    king?

    ok, like a prince.

    anything you want you just snap your fingers?

    i just think about snapping my fingers and i get it.

    think of something.

    ok im thinking about having a nice tall glass of rum and a half of a coconut.

    what happened?

    it didnt arrive.

    ha ha.

    now im thinking about executing the person whose job it is to read my mind.

    uh oh.

    yeah tony, shit down here runs smoothly cuz everyone knows their place. its one of the best parts of communism.

    i always thought the best part of communism was never having to keep up with the gonzalezes

    that too.

    ok elian, im glad youre doing ok and everythings cool.

    yeah its pretty cool. they say when fidel dies i might end up running this piece.

    just remember your old buddy tone when you let major league baseball expand into havana.

    will do, g.

    sk smith + raymi + alecia + golden fiddle

  7. see that white house 

    in the middle and slightly to the left.

    red car parked right in front.

    that was my house on 6850 del playa in isla vista. junior year.

    greatest house i will ever live in and it wasnt even the best one on the block. that award goes to the professor who lived two houses over and one closer to the beach.

    his was all glass with concrete addendums.

    a hot chick drove over today to take me to the coin laundry.

    i have to keep remembering that the good Lord doesnt want us to just live on dp once in our lives and then look back longingly, He wants us to keep kicking ass, and not someone elses dreams of beverly hills and runaway norweigan twins.

    He wants us to say shit i didnt even know this dream existed

    hawaiian so shes got nice lips.

    but the last time i saw her i had all that stubble and shes a sensitive little pomme frite so today i see ive made her break out and she wouldnt let me kisser even though id shaved my whole damn head off

    so i nuzzled my cheek up against hers real good like

    made sure to let her know that someone had a banana in their pants and i was pleased to meet me.

    6850 is a little less than a mile from campus.

    in those days i skateboarded everywhere. but the thing about isla vista is a mile skate through town is dangerous on so many levels. obstacles like the burnt couches and lazyboychairs and bottles and passed out people

    but there were also distractions like freshly tapped kegs, half built half pipes, two story bongs, the beach, the blondes, the burritos.

    so when i lived on dp i rode my bike alot.

    once upon a time when i lived on 6850 dp i went to bed listening to the pacific outside my window and some nights i would say my prayers right there in bed because i had sometimes found myself passed next to the bed because i had called it a night right there while praying.

    i make sure to thank Him and back then that could go on for a while.

    just like it will tonight.

    daily nexus + isla vista history + ivtv

  8. Sunday, April 24, 2005
  9. yes, getting thin envelopes sucks. 

    but first let me thank you for all the nice things that you said about me not getting into rad school. the support that ive gotten through this blog is unbelievable, and the biggest reason why i do this.

    someone asked me the other day “why dont you do photo essays any more?”

    and i said it was cuz of my carpal tunnel.

    she said, “do you have carpal any more?”

    and i said not really,

    and she said, “then give the kids some photo essays, you’ll heal.”

    i wanted to go to grad school because last year i was able to teach a class at ucsb and afterwards my former professor told me that i should seriously consider doing what it takes to be a college professor because she thought id be good at it.

    because i completely trust anything that she says, i went for it. this woman is one of my biggest idols. without her theres no way i would have written in college.

    she basically discovered me in a lowly Poetry 10 class and put me in the College of Creative Studies, which instantly changed my life.

    the college of creative studies had no grades, tiny classes, and personalized instruction. you could take any class at ucsb, you could check books out longer than regular students from the library, and you even got pizza on fridays.

    because there were no grades, no tests, and no finals, i immediately started working at the campus newspaper (pictured below) where i ended up writing more articles than anyone. blah blah blah. needless to say, my college experience was a magical one and im still very close with the friends that i made there, so the prospect of being able to be employed in that world, helping kids learn how to write, was to say the least, appetizing

    especially if you knew how ive been earning my living over the past half decade.

    lets just say it hasnt been pretty.

    when youre 25 and have a few years of unrewarding employment its not such a bad thing cuz youre getting laid, meeting people, learning shit, transitionning into the real world.

    but when youre 111 riding the bus and the best thing going for you is your gayass blawg you can either jump off a bridge or start applying for things that have been recommended to you by those cooler than you.

    yes i could have applied to more than just one school, but i didnt want to go anywhere else. my professor was high on that school and its supposed to be the best in california.

    i went to the best undergrad program, why not the best grad school.

    of course i would have had to pay for it, and pay for a car to get me down there, and i would have had to quit my job, and it would have effected some of the magazine writing im doing and work im doing at the Weekly, not to mention totally ruin the big secret project in the works,

    but if i coulda gotten into uci that woulda meant that in three or four years i could apply over at santa barbara in hopes of teaching there, which quite possibly might be the greatest gig of all time.

    so yes this step was pretty big and one reason why i only wanted to go to the best school is so it could help me get the best gig.

    in truth i didnt have the best application. all of my poems were old, my essay wasnt very good, and i didnt do everything i should have done to get in.

    next year i wont make those mistakes.

    and next year i wont apply for the poetry program either.

    poetrys for girls.

    :)

    again, thank you for all your very nice comments, and now let me direct you to the greatest thing ive seen this week, how to blog by mr bloopy and costarring mr bwg.

  10. Saturday, April 23, 2005