i dont do anything right

thats what the xbi taught me.

lord waldamart

i dont read the right books, i dont eat the proper foods, i dont excercise enough.

i dont pay attention to grammar or spelling, i dont forgive and forget, i drink

oldest union marcher

i dont try to reach my highest potential, i dont keep a clean home, i shop at the wrong places

teamstars

im not tough enough or handy enough or mean enough to the right people

ben harper

i dont love the people i should, i dont hang out with my friends enough,

occupy

i dont put myself out there enough, im a christian and a cub fan

kids

i talk trash about the future of our galaxy and ive refused (so far) to reproduce

billionaires

and whats worse, i hide my millions in the wrong swiss banks.

good thing theres always tomorrow.

five years ago matt good played in vegas in a living room

matt good in vegas playing to fans

to about thirty fans who flew and drove in from various parts of north america.

the venue was a mcmansion 20 minutes from the strip.

at the time i was the editor of LAist so i could blog from whereever

so when matt invited me to spend 4-5 days with him in vegas i was all

hell yeah.

fans singing along to matt good

lots of fun out there. so relaxing.

and so unique to hear a musician in a sparse house playing guitar all day and night,

and singing his new jam.

so when the cd finally came out i knew all the songs pretty well including some of the stories around them

because i ask lots of questions.

the final night matt played to all his fans who made it out to sin city and it was spectacular.

max and jason from current were there and shot this

afterwards we got some chipotle.

photos by duane storey

a terrible cold tried to sneak inside my mouth last night

studio 9

it tickled the back of the throat and tried to make itself comfortable

and i was all dude, really?

for some reason a Vernors ginger ale made its way in my Canada Dry 12-pack case

and sat getting flat on my nightstand and i guzzled it at 4:30am, and drank water

and smoked a cigar, and hacked in the bathroom and listened to GG Allin

and basically showed the cold why it would not be comfortable in my person

but it hung in there.

so i drank some four day old Smart Water thatd been sitting there without a cap on it

it had been rolling around in the trunk of the car for the last few months.

smelled slightly of gasoline and funyuns

then i pulled my own finger

then i listened to billy joel, the new everclear, and old mariah carey.

all while reading the entire paper.

and now im cured.

tgi yawn

happy birthday to dale jr’s favorite musician

canadas favorite son celebrates a birthday today with his beautiful wife

and adorable kids

in his hobbit house on the horse farm

and reminds us that the (north) american dream is alive and well

above the 49th parallel.

anyone who has been lucky enough to spend much time with matt knows

that besides being a musical genius as jr put it a few years ago

todays birthday boy is a no nonsense straight shooter which is refreshing in todays world

of lets just blow smoke at each other forever and ever.

if i ever get married this is a song i hope the band knows.

im learning that everything in life is bittersweet

san nic

last night i learned about my high school bud Bob (see post below) after i had such a great time with my college bros out in Venice.

chris, mark, mike, and rob were part of the heart of my hippie friends at ucsb.

like many people i had two sets of friends. in my case i had the newspaper amigos and the thirsty thursday crew.

these grateful dead loving miscreants were there the second i landed in the dorms and we were super close immediately. as in immediately. it was magic. a gazillion years later look at us: well preserved, lovable, successful, and still as idealistic as in back in the day.

last night we at tacos and drank good beer and talked a little about the good old days but not as much as youd think. we have new stuff to talk about.

the reason for the season was that mike was down from santa cruz with his adorable little sons so rob made the hike out from the low desert and i trekked in from pass.

something weird about real solid friends like these that even if you havent seen them in a while you can get back to connecting instantly. i have said many times in this blog that i consider myself so super lucky mostly because of the great friends ive had the pleasure to meet over the years.

so driving home from the wesssside i was in a little glow of good spirits only to have them dashed when i read the sad news from chicago.

but what it did was remind me the same thing im reminded every day: life is so damn fragile and so so so short that we have to drink every drop out of the red solo cup of existence because you never know when the keg will be cashed.

so bring a buck, and yr own cup.

bob miletta, rest in peace

bobfor some reason bob and i started hanging out in high school and it was good.

we played whiffle ball and soccer, walked to the store, talked about the cubs.

somehow we did this for years. happily.

his family were the type of warm italians that you see in the movies with something always simmering on the stove, and old school dean martin on the radio.

if it wasnt for bob i probably wouldnt have gotten my first girlfriend. for it was because bob was playing a hockey game was i able to say on the phone one day hey mary wanna go to my buddy’s hockey game tonight, and history was made.

bob ended up with one of the hottest girls, himself, the next year and i experienced my first feelings of jealousy. basically she looked like she could have easily been playing for the Runaways.

it was in bobs house that i first heard the word marone.

as in what bobs older brother probably said to him when he first brought her home.

marone, little brother, whered you find her?

according to the newspaper bob was driving, possibly had a heart attack or stroke, and drove right through a yard, hit two trees and the corner of his house and his suv rolled over. and he died.

and what a way to go. obviously distressed because of a young child had just drowned in his pool and the next day bob was headed to the store to dismantle the pool when he died.

The autistic child was staying at his grandparents’ house in the subdivision while his parents were out of town. The child was last seen sleeping on a couch about 5 a.m. but apparently wandered away and was found in the pool at 10:47 a.m.

One report said the victim was on his way to buy a pump to drain the water from the pool to tear it down when the crash occurred.

i found out because via facebook i was invited to his funeral mass.

i was all funeral mass?

nobody i know should be having funeral masses, i thought, but there on his facebook wall i read all these very nice messages from his family and friends. and a link to the story and photo gallery.

facebook.

stunned i kept scrolling down his wall to see if he had any virtual last words, and lo, the bob miletta who i grew up with, was right there again:

Here is something to ponder for all of you White Sux fans, how your team is in first place and nobody goes to the games. It’s beacuse all you fair weather so called sox fans that will jump on the bandwagon come playoff time and root for them, while the Cubs no matter what the team is doing pack Wrigley Field. Shows true colors and support. Yes the Cubs do suck at times but they still have sellouts. Also it’s funny that now The Cell has Ivy in Center Field.

im sorry i lusted after your girlfriend,

ps your twitter just broke my heart.

never running again

suicide girls HQ

im torn about this running business.

only reason im doing it is for the wrong reason.

im doing it because even though i dont ever wanna rejoin the xbi, i secretly love how they are always coming after me begging me.

treating me special. offering up gifts. letting me do the unthinkable

namely talking about the xbi in public and driving a car that advertises the undercover agency.

but the only way i can remain on their radar as a viable candidate is to:

remain sexy
stay in shape
keep my wits about me
continue not to give an f

sadly some of that comes through via physical conditioning – namely running the streets of hollywood with weights on my ankles, crap in my pockets, and uncomfortable shoes.

normally i withstand the pain but this morning my nipples were sore and my flabby thighs chaffed where the bottoms of my boxers were rubbing against my swimsuit shorts.

nothing less sexy than a man screaming in the shower because his man boobs are tender.