busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, October 3, 2017

    there’s two kinds of people in LA: phonies and friends 

    you cant really blame the phonies because theres these beautiful houses on the hills of hollywood and mansions in beverly hills

    not to mention beach pads in malibu

    and fancy cars stuck in traffic alongside you.

    and the phonies think that if they change who they are they will get the things that they want.

    of course they are wrong. dead wrong. mostly wrong.

    life is about living Your life, your truth, your path.

    and if you get the house on the hill off that then great, you don’t have to change anything once you get it.

    what the people in those houses won’t tell you is the turnover rate of those mcmansions are high

    not because people be flipping them

    but because fakers don’t belong there and the houses spit em right out.

    tom petty died twice yesterday and he was no faker.

    once he brought the Replacements on tour with him and they even jammed with he and the Heartbreakers from time to time.

    the first time I saw Tom Petty was in the mid-80s. the Southern Accents tour.

    i was renting a room from an old lady in Inglewood and I walked down to the show at the Forum.

    for some reason i had an extra ticket and no one was buying so i placed my ticket down on the ground in the parking lot.

    i dont think anyone took it.

    next time i saw him was in 1989, also at the Forum, when the Replacements opened.

    it was so surreal seeing them play in such a huge place, for them.

    i dont remember a thing about Petty’s performance because i was so nuts for the Mats.

    im sure i saw him again but the next time I am certain about was in january of 1997.

    he played five nights at the legendary Fillmore in Frisco

    only reason i know which show i went to was afterwards they were handing out Free posters and it was the night of the green mermaid.

    again, no memories of the show other than the poster.

    which i have carried around with me from apartment to apartment, lo these 20 years since.

    about 10 years ago he played at the Hollywood Bowl and i didn’t have tickets so i brought $100 cash with me but everyone was selling tickets starting at $150

    so i went home.

    then a few years ago he played several nights at the smaller-than-the-Fillmore Henry Fonda Theater. my buddy Todd had a last minute extra ticket and he asked if i wanted to go, i said hell yeah

    and that was the first time i ever took Uber cuz i had to get there fast and i didnt wanna park.

    you may have remembered my little blog post about how we sat in the bar and listened through the door for a bunch of it because it sounded soooo good out there in the lobby because Petty had these arena sized amps and it filled the little club so well

    probably the best sounding show ive ever been to.

    the last time i saw him was just a few weeks ago at the Bowl.

    i had heard that he was sick so i didnt sell my tickets.

    we went. we laughed. we sang. and we got a little sad when glitches of something not so right appeared through his person.

    in fact the whole time i felt like i was watching a time bomb slowly tick tick ticking.

    so when they announced on twitter yesterday that he was rushed to the hospital i was all, whattya know, the person who told me was right about his illness.

    and then last night he died and even though we were already sad about Vegas, i was doubly sad about Petty

    a guy who was never a phony

    who was always cool

    who never tried to be anyone other than who he was: a chill lover of rock and all that has made up rock.

    but i still cant believe he’s gone.

  2. Sunday, October 1, 2017

    had the most beautiful dream last night 

    i never dream, so when i do they’re usually bad

    because they know they’re unwelcome

    but this one was fantastic

    and when i woke up i felt good inside.

    but as i watched football today i thought

    wait a damn second

    that dream tricked you.

    aint nothing changed in your life.

    everythings exactly the same.

    because that did not happen.

    why would you believe the movie

    and not the book.

    every day i write the book.

    we know what the truth is.

    truth is that dog wanted his hair cut that way, aint nobody’s fault.

    everybody wants something a little different.

    and some people want dreams.

    well you can have mine.

    free.

  3. did the longest lyft ride i ever did yesterday 

    prettiest girl you ever did see.

    black girl!

    curls and curls and curls and curls

    fuzzy flip flops and a big purse.

    picked her up in the hills of hollywood and we needed to run some errands she told me

    most expensive brand lyft has and there i was playing old school smooth jazz from wes montgomery

    on a saturday afternoon in los angeles

    smack dab on a Jewish holiday.

    the roads were smooth, the sun was bright

    and first thing she says once we get rolling is

    oooh – i like that music.

    i have this theory that i may have shared once before about native californians, including native los angelenos and that is that they are extremely mellow and down to earth because if they grew up here

    they have seen it all

    and i would say that even though she had the funniest way of saying things

    she was chill

    so we went south then east then west then south

    talking about race, soul food, tacos, bell hooks, college, snapchat and most importantly taking three busses to get to high school

    hour and a half drive.

    there were times when there wasnt anything to say and nothing was said.

    rarely does that happen but there it was.

    and when it was done she even tipped me.

    called my mom as i drove home and called it a day.

    but not before ordering some bell hooks off amazon.

  4. Saturday, September 30, 2017

    i already know my new year resolution 

    stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter

    and facebook

  5. Friday, September 29, 2017

    there were two magazines that made an impact on teenage busblog 

    one of playboy, naturally.

    the other was Cosmo.

    living in a divorced home, my moms magazines were in her bathroom, neatly stacked.

    and when i visited my dad, his mens magazines were in his closet. also, neatly stacked.

    both had photos of scantily clad women, which was the bait for every teenage boy.

    and both had articles, which were the Switch.

    playboy was filled with stories about jazz, shiny cars, new technology, rankings of sports teams, and of course sex advice.

    Cosmo also had articles which were about how to deal with your shitty husband, how to convince your shitty boyfriend to marry you, fantasies about cheating on your man, and quizzes to show you that you and your man are not compatible.

    month after month Playboy showed me an, albeit skewed, take on life that I could be great in bed, rich, hunky, healthy, and well-versed in literature.

    and month after month Cosmopolitan taught me that even if I lied in the quiz: men and women would never be happy together.

    even though it was mildly depressing, I kept flipping through Cosmo because: omg boobies.

    and once i got tired of looking at the omg boobies in Playboy, I would return to the articles I hadn’t read yet, and the comics, and the jokes, and the weird mail-order offers, and the letters, and the interviews. And the fiction that went on and on and on.

    both magazines tricked me into reading. and both magazines delivered onto me a distorted look at masculinity.

    one was devastating, the other hopeful.

    and while so many who wish to judge Hef for airbrushing his models, i ask: have you ever seen what they do with the covers of women’s magazines? it’s even more exaggerated at times.

    which doesn’t make it right. at all. and sure as hell doesn’t help prepare teen boys and girls everywhere for the reality of waking up next to someone in the morning.

    but in a world that is so confusing, no matter what age, sign me up for the deliverer of Hope.

    which is why I will defend and thank Mr. Hugh Hefner for his print product, even though I never became that suave dude in his pages.

  6. Thursday, September 28, 2017

    yesterday a complicated man died at 91 years old 

    we are all complicated.

    we are all super nice to some people and cant fucking stand others.

    my mom is the greatest grandma and mom and friend and co worker

    but if neighbor kids play on her lawn she freaks out like a dog does on a squirrel.

    THERE’S A PARK LITERALLY ONE BLOCK AWAY! she’ll grumble.

    hugh hefner was even more complicated. he loved women so much that he wanted to look at them all the time. clothed, unclothed, sorta clothed.

    and omg he wanted to live with them!

    unlike a lot of his critics, i actually got to meet him a couple of times and i was invited to have a one on one interview with him when i worked for the LA Times. i asked him all the questions i wanted to ask him and he answered them openly and honestly.

    some today are saying he was the saint of not giving a fuck. but he cared very deeply. in fact he cared so much about being misquoted that he had his own video team filming my interview so he would have proof if i was up to something. i appreciated that.

    he was a friend of the First Amendment, Jazz, Civil Rights, good writing, science, humor, and the most sensitive topic of all: human sexuality.

    weirdly he wasn’t able to rid the conflicts that people have in their minds about an untraditional sex life. but he tried.

    one way he tried was by living by example. he told me the happiest times of his life was when he was married. he explained that he was a romantic but he also loved learning and exploring and experimenting. so when his previous two marriages failed, he did what most men would do if they could: he lived the life of a single man.

    heres the things i loved about Hef: he made a magazine that had a naked superstar in its center during a time that was so uptight that naked bodies were only allowed if they were of black people in Africa. to display an American white woman was super dooper taboo. And he did it and it was an overnight success.

    he made a magazine that championed quality music, style, fiction, nonfiction, sports, politics, interviews, cars, stereo equipment and even religion.

    he loved animals so much he had a mini zoo at his house. And full time zookeepers. one of the very few private residences in LA that was allowed to have such a zoo.

    who saved the Hollywood sign? (it was Hef)

    i loved how he proved how important his magazine was (and is) simply by the reactions that people EVEN TODAY have about the nude body.

    they still can’t get over the fact that he had pictures of boobies in his magazine.

    even my beloved LA Times in the Metro Section today, written by one of their top editors has a story about his life but they simply couldn’t do it without putting “hedonistic” in the headline.

    Hedonism is defined as the pursuit of pleasure. Who among us isn’t looking for pleasure?

    and as much as i am truly madly deeply in love with my local paper, they are stuck in the same exact 1950s uptight sexually repressed mindset that Hef so successfully rebelled against.

    Sex is part of life.

    It’s ok to have fantasies.

    It’s ok to be just as progressive about our sex lives as we are about our politics.

    And if you were to have someone preach those messages, isn’t it nice to have that same person not be a hypocrite, and actually live that way.

    Hugh Hefner was a fascinating groundbreaking publisher who loved journalists of all kinds.

    He loved film and scrapbooking.

    But most of all, at his heart, he loved love.

    That’s what I loved the most about him.

  7. Monday, September 25, 2017

    in the days of chimpanzees i was a busblog 

    spent part of the weekend fighting with people on Twitter about why NFL players were kneeling during the National Anthem.

    It’s tough to argue on Twitter for a few reasons:

    1. some people want to remain in the dark

    2. im a verbose SOB thus it’s tough to stick to just 140 letters

    3. i was watching football and forgot that i was arguing with half of the South.

    the biggest problem was these people kept wanting to say that by kneeling during the Anthem, the players are disrespecting the flag.

    as if the flag has feelings. it’s cloth i told them.

    THESE PLAYERS ARE PROTESTING THE FACT THAT COPS MURDER BLACK PEOPLE AND GET AWAY WITH IT. I’d say.

    but they didn’t want to hear it. and it was curious.

    im sorry they arent protesting the way they want people to protest. when Trump tried to impose the racist Muslim ban, people took to the streets. The Trumpsters whined accusing the protesters of being paid. They complained that the traffic was bad now. They bitched that the signs were painting them in a bad light.

    so here you have a protest that doesn’t affect anything. it doesn’t keep the flag from flying. it doesn’t keep the singer from singing. and it doesn’t even affect the game.

    so they bring the military into it: “these selfish millionaire football players are disrespecting all the veterans who fought for this country!”

    as if these Trumpsters care about the military. Aren’t a good chunk of homeless people veterans? Where were these defenders of the troops when W was cutting the VA?

    but more importantly: is a veteran more American than a schoolteacher or a Community Organizer?

    hey man, some of my best friends fought in wars. but members of the military are just Part of America. firefighters, nurses, farmers, fruit pickers, union bosses, seamstresses, and even your neighborhood blogger are all important parts of our society and we are all Americans who, when we are at our best, contribute to what makes the USA the second-greatest country in this continent.

    hi baby.

    long live every man woman and drone who defends this country and all the things we stand for but at what point is someone going to say, please stop using veterans as pawns for your bullshit argument?

    the actual issue at hand is kids, teens, adults and even women have been straight up murdered by police and those cops paid no price even when they said

    I DON’T KNOW WHY I SHOT THAT BLACK MAN WHO HAD HIS HANDS UP.

    Yes. Yes you do. You know damn well why you do. And until we get that unsubstantiated fear out of the minds of our police force we are going to continue to have innocent dead black folks and athletes kneeling in protest.

    but we can’t get there until we knock off this fucking shit about the flag or the military or the “country”.

    until the flag murders a kid holding a toy gun, no one has any problem with the flag.

    until the military says “i’m gonna kill this MFer”, kills a citizen, plants a gun on him and gets away with it, no one has a problem with the military.

    athletes are kneeling because it is working. it is getting the word out there that police brutality and murder will not be tolerated.

    the President of the United States wants to pretend that this is not about race or cops or anything other than the flag.

    which is why you know it’s not about the freaking flag.

    and now i wish i had learned how to run a Post Route so i could kneel

    with my clenched fist up

    during every anthem my team played on Sundays.

     

  8. Thursday, September 21, 2017

    dear tony, im so tall what do i do 

    life is a cabaret old chum.

    theres no such thing as average. everyone wants to fall within the boundaries.

    everyone wants to fit in.

    crazy thing is, though is, if you showed me an Average person i probably wouldnt wanna be friends with them.

    in fact, nowadays theres a great phase: BASIC

    no one wants to be that.

    people should fly their freak flags.

    show us the thing that the others dont have.

    the great thing about this is if you can figure out what makes you unique your friends will be able to tell you immediately.

    now heres the tough part:

    if that wild card feature is about something lame like your hair or your clothes or your shoes

    you should probably either change that

    or let out the real thing inside that makes you you.

    because i’ll tell you right now, you are not your shoes

    you are not your hair. and for damn sure you are not your height.

    back before blogs and facebooks and twitters there were AOL chat rooms.

    and in those rooms all you were was your user name. and you could be TallBitch988 but only if you truly wanted to be. usually you were MaryfromLA or something

    and as you chatted with people they got to learn your personality.

    there werent profile pictures or anything that showed who you were visually. it was your ideas.

    yes virginia, for a small sliver of Time, people were not judged by the size of their instep

    but on the quality of their blah blah blah

  9. Monday, September 18, 2017

    i think about my cat Prince a lot 

    he does things and he cant help it.

    im the same way.

    if you throw his favorite little bell-ball he will run after it like a dog. eventually you will find it near my bed. a weird, slow, game of fetch, even though he’s a cat.

    me, i drive uber and lyft as often as i can, even though i have a perfectly good normal job.

    even though the roads are dangerous, the traffic is heinous and letting strangers in my Benz isn’t the wisest move deep down.

    but i am addicted to learning about and helping people. ive got a friend Ben who works at a Catholic soup kitchen. they lure Catholics to skid row, murder them, and make soup out of them. the poor are nourished and Ben feels good about himself, which is crazy because Ben is one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.

    got another friend, Steve, who writes novels and interviews other authors about their process. i almost wanna write another book just so Steve will interview me about it.

    some nights i will drive and drive and drive for eight hours straight. peeing just once or twice. usually mcdonalds but today i peed in a bowling alley bathroom. what a great place.

    my problem is i love people for about 25 minutes. i wanna know everything about them. and then they’re gone. no fuss no muss. am i a commitment-phobe? probably. who cares. we live such short lives why are we trying to box ourselves in? why can’t we just enjoy a bite-sized conversation, especially if it goes into a deeper truth.

    the problem though with driving for 8 hours is somewhere along the way you get tired so you eat something and drink a giant Coke. then you get home totally frazzled and you can’t get to sleep.

    luckily for me, theres a long legged blonde girl who dresses sexy and helps me get my Zzzs. and she has a key to my castle.

    do i wanna write novels? yes. do i wanna have a great podcast? yes. would i love to build a house one day and shove a Conversation Pit in there? of course.

    but i am currently addicted to lifestyle choices that keep me a mild mannered apartment dweller with no hope for advancement.

    except in my heart.

    where all my little conversations with the good people of this city live forever.

    occasionally i will let you in for a peek.

    which is how Prince would do it too.

    (my Prince, not yrs.)

  10. Tuesday, September 12, 2017

    im brain storming right now 

    im spitballing, im freeballing im baseballing im softballing im team coverage im fast breaking

    sip taking ball breaking rum jumping

    i used to be the one who was the man who beat the man who helped the man who was the man

    im super dooping free throw shooting mario jumping sonic tumbling

    i got an idea i got an idea i got an idea

    i love tough assignments i got one today they said make magic happen by the end of the day

    which would be fine if i could just focus on the divine but

    all these other distractions came up in my face and now im creating some space

    so im spitballing free falling snow balling hand jiving

    i fink yr freaky and i like you a lot

    i fing you freely and i heart you a like