busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Wednesday, November 14, 2018

    i have less time to do things, yet im doing thing 

    im overwhelmingly consumed by the secret project. i havent ubered in months and my bank account shows.

    the xbi says you can do this little job for us, you know, and i say i know.

    i went to get this thing removed from my head. many people have told me its a transmitter.

    it aint no transmitter. i dont think. but it’s gone now. the bleedings stopped.

    the pretty girl made me oatmeal this morning before i left.

    is there anything more a man could want?

    the sun is warm, the air is less smokey.

    i go to the mailbox at noon to see if the check has arrived.

    this is no way to live.

    but im obsessed with this project.

    it must be great.

    or else.

    im not great.

  2. Monday, November 12, 2018

    when in rome, ask a lot of questions 

    i had to do this thing in Hollywood this morning and i found myself doing the thing that i used to tell people to do.

    comic book legend Stan Lee died. i was really close to hollywood and highland where all these cartoon characters hang out shaking down tourists for money.

    i had this crazy idea that all the Marvel ones (the hulk, iron man, black panther, black widow, captain america, wolverine, etc) might be hanging out at his star because thats where the fans would go, no?

    no. turned out neither of the spider men knew even who Stan was

    but fortunately there was a Cap and a Logan who totally knew what was up and were willing to talk to me quickly so i could get a few quotes, take a few pics, and zip it over to LAist before lunch.

    it was startling how easy the words came out of me in writing this little thing. with LAist i know exactly what humor to inject and where the line is. bing bang boom it was over before it started which was great because i had a big day planned for me for the secret project.

    the talented mike roe, comic book expert had just posted his obit, so it fit nicely under the tweets. teamwork makes the dream work and they were able to move on to more pressing issues like these damn fires.

    read the whole thing here.

  3. Sunday, November 11, 2018

    sharif don’t like it 

    shes a nice girl. she doesnt wanna hurt no one.

    sometimes we’ll be driving and

    like today, today we were driving and she got real quiet so i put on the beastie boys book on tape

    im a book on tape fiend right now

    whats great about theirs is they have different people reading different chapters because theres close to 100 chapters and they are correct in assuming we dont wanna hear just two guys reading that big ass book

    we would much rather hear them along with the likes of ben stiller, wanda sykes, ll cool j, amy poehler, spike jonze, and wes anderson — among many others.

    so we were listening to this story about them going to england for the first time and they mention the fact that they were at mick jones’ house and right before joe strummer popped in adam yauch asked mick to play clash city rockers.

    because im a million years old and amber is innocence and youth personified i asked her if she knew that tune. she said nope. i go siri play clash city rockers by the clash. and we listened and

    i thought to myself

    this poor girl. bad enough shes gotta listen to the beasties book on tape but worse,

    jarvis cocker reading from the book

    and just when shes settled in listening to the story i go siri play this song shes never heard

    i wouldnt be able to stand it if the roles were reversed.

    all she wanted was a salad.

  4. this doesnt even tell the whole story 

    i picked up amber in beverly hills yesterday around 2:30pm.

    on the way there i took this picture a block away from Rodeo by sticking my phone out the window.

    i shouldn’t have done that to my phone.

    the air is poisoned. the smoke. the fumes. the sadness from our friends.

    it must be terrible to have to breath it all in because theres nothing good about it.

    yesterday the sun looked down as ashes blew down like tears, even as far away as down town

    which is worlds away from Malibu and Thousand Oaks.

    my cats, who haven’t done this since they were kittens, took it out on the toilet paper roll.

    even they know.

  5. Friday, November 9, 2018

    so many prayers to the bu 

    When I first moved to LA, I had no friends. After a while I met a punk rockish girl at Santa Monica College who turned me on to poetry, environmental issues and journalism. She was amazing. She lived in Malibu.

    We started dating and I would drive all the way out to her place by County Line, just above Zuma. She still lived with her parents, who were so nice to me. They knew it was a long drive back to Inglewood where I lived and they suggested that I spend the night out there more than she did.  Even her brothers were great to me. It was a dream.

    I tweeted to her today to tell her that I was thinking good thoughts about her sweet parents. She replied saying thank you, that they had evacuated safely. But she said the house was in the path of the fire and things didn’t look good for it.

    Even though the dad was an engineer, his wife and kids were basically hippies. Beautiful, loving, throwbacks. Sometimes you think, oh it’s ok if a house burns down, they’ll get insurance to build a cool modern replacement, but if there was one family who wouldn’t want a modern anything it’s them. They would prefer that their quirky, humble, super-real home remain as is.

    And that’s what I’m praying for tonight.

    When I saw this Wally Skalij image from the LA Times of what appears to be some emus and a donkey at Zuma today, I thought, yep, that’s so Trancas. Funky, weird, and super chill.

  6. Thursday, November 8, 2018

    i wrote this two years ago, it’s spooky to read it today 

    november 7, 2016

    Shout out to the journalists, particularly those on the trail who covered this insane race and who found themselves surrounded by ignorance, hate, confederate flags, and bombarded with so many lies every day it must have been tough some days to figure out which flaming bag of poop to step on.

    Shout out to the journalists who didn’t make it this far. 56 journalists around the globe were killed this year while doing their jobs.

    Most people don’t like public speaking, writing essays, doing research, or calling someone they know won’t talk to them. Journalists do all of that every day, on deadline, for far less money than you would guess. They work long hours, holidays, nights, and weekends. They are often split apart from their families and miss recitals and baseball games: all so you can be smarter than your friends.

    Oh and also, so they can make the world a better place.

    The Wells Fargo Scandal, where it was discovered that the giant bank committed enormous fraud didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Journalism exposed it.

    So when Donald Trump supporters suggest stringing up journalists for doing the unthinkable – writing down the things their candidate says into a microphone – think about the other nations who ban, kill, and imprison reporters.

    Those are the least-American places in the world… probably because there are fewer journalists around there to shine a light on it.

    If you know a journalist or run into one, hug them.

    They probably could use it.

  7. do you know you belong here 

    can you see that everything has been laid out

    there are pop machines and drive throughs

    hospitals and rainbows

    all here for one reason and one reason only

    so that you me and the lilies of the fields

    can do our thing.

    theres no reason to stress.

    if it all comes falling down, then let it.

    if the seas part and the monster rises then scream out:

    here i am, here i am.

    and hope it knows English.

    because being scared is something my girl cat does because she doesn’t watch enough tv or read any books.

    shes adorable and soft but no one is wishing to switch places with her any time soon.

    the only one who loves her more than me is the boy cat who is brave and adventurous

    and thinks hes a dog.

    i even call him that now as he follows me around, first in the hall, then when he jumps in the tub

    and then leaps on the kitchen sink so he can look me in the eye as i sit on the toilet.

    he tries so hard to read my mind but the only thing in there is

    the echoes of led zep and fantasies of whats it like in heaven

    which yesterday i learned isn’t capitalized.

  8. Tuesday, November 6, 2018

    everyone won today, everyone lost 

    so much happened today i dont even know where to start.

    did the american people win? pretty much. those who wanted backwards racists and crooks on their way to jail voted for them, and that’s their right.

    those of us who wanted clear thinking leaders and visionaries reluctantly voted for diane feinstein

    all i know is auntie maxine is going to show donald trump the back of her hand in so many delicious ways and i know they wanna put diane back in as speaker i think they should give it to maxine because she has been the one saying early and often that she cannot wait to impeach this son of a gun, so let her.

    all while giving love to the first black female speaker of the house

    i spent a few hours today meeting my new doctor. i had to switch docs once i switched my health plan. so they gave me the whole physical and even stuck a thing up my, and i was all, when did this procedure begin and they said about a year ago.

    and i was like, well since we now know each other… she and the young doctor who was shadowing her marveled at how young i appeared and i pointed to the nearby burger king and i said, fast food 4x a week, mixed with loud music, and a sweet gf who’s down for whatever and you too will sustain this glow.

    how much do you exercise?

    never.

    never?

    never.

    how often are you in front of a computer?

    12 hours a day.

    do you wear glasses?

    no.

    can you read minds?

    since 1992.

    we shook hands and agreed to shave the mole from my head because it was probably an xbi transmitter

    a procedure that is scheduled for next week. so if i disappear, you know who to blame.

  9. Monday, November 5, 2018

    last month on twitter matt welch asked about this sb little league picture 

    and i couldn’t find it anywhere, and lo, i just ran across it on facebook

    we were probably the coolest little league managers of all time

    but that doesn’t always translate to the wins column

    however, one thing about being 9 and 10 years old, which these boys learned

    probably not from us

    is winning and losing is all relative

    the fact that they were able to turn double plays

    and not piss their pants at the plate

    when, let’s say, that was not in their skill set before we all met and became the Santa Barbara Royals

    is all the winning one needs.

  10. Sunday, November 4, 2018

    amber just gave me the sweetest compliment 

    shes been a little bit sick so shes been in bed for two days,

    i was standing with my shirt off and long plaid pajama pants on

    eating some jumbo shrimp i had just gotten for myself after going out to get her soup and seltzer water.

    she said, “you remind me of a lot of the rock stars that stay at my hotel”

    she works at a fancy beverly hills joint

    she said, “you don’t worry about anything. you’re just cool.”

    shes lived with me over a year and thats what she thinks?

    oh i worry.

    i worry this whole thing might get pulled out from under me at any minute.

    i am not in control of anything. i could do the greatest job ever on this secret project and still get thrown to the wolves. i could do a cruddy job and get praised. you never know what people will think.

    but my biggest fear is not a person at all. it’s God. i wanna go to Heaven. but you dont get in because of  your dazzling good looks or witty banter. it’s your heart. and you can’t fake that.

    what is in my heart? it aint sugar and spice and everything nice, thats for damn sure.

    of course i care about the poor and others and this one and that one but i was in the xbi. ive done some things. who knows if im forgiven?

    Yes Jessica painted this painting that i bought from her that she framed and sent to me. it says “forgive yourself. for all of it.”

    it’s hung right next to my giant bedroom tv. right above a Cubs hat. i look at it every. single. day.

    but there are some unforgivable things.

    and even if i convince myself that there arent, what if God disagrees?

    the Good Book says the only unforgivable sin is blasphemy, or more specifically denying God. everything else has been paid for by Jesus.

    let’s hope thats the case because i would like to go back to worrying about the same things that rock stars in swanky hotels should worry about: when will the creativity dry up one day, when will the pretty girls stop paying attention,

    and when will that Mexicoke ever arrive from room service?