busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Wednesday, March 30, 2016

    anna keeps sending me pictures as if 

    annalast night when i was driving a nice nanny home jeanine called so i put her on speaker

    she was telling me that she wasnt coming home and i said fine. when it was over she said ok, i love you!

    i replied likewise and when we hung up i explained to my passenger who jeanine was and that she was sleeping on my couch temporarily.

    oh how sweet that you still tell each other you love each other.

    i said yeah.

    the lady told me that where she’s from (el salvador), when a relationship is over there is no i love yous any more.

    i said, america is sorta the same, but there are exceptions.

    it depends, i told her, on how the relationship was and how it ended.

    i told her that when jeanine and i were over we had a breakup party and three bands played.

    maria the nanny had a hard time comprehending it.

    i said, it was a different time. pre 9/11, pre-internet. we were lucky to have cable tv

    she said, but bands? i said yeah, rock n roll was still alive.

    i said but there are other exes that i dont care to hear from any more, like anna.

    then i told her about anna and then handed her my cell phone and opened the text messages.

    almost every day this woman sends you pictures of herself.

    si, i said.

    pretty girl! she said, with a wink and handed it back.

    i said looks are deceiving, as is anna, which is why i dont really respond and why i would have a very hard time trusting her again, which is why it’s best to move on.

    maria’s accent was thick, but she did understand everything

    and as she got out she said, i love you tony

    and winked.

  2. Monday, March 21, 2016

    anna doesnt call me a lot but when she does its cuz she knows im sad 

    annatoday at lunch she called but i didnt pick up. why do girls like the phone so much?!

    i was sad because i was promised that if i did something and worked hard for it then id get it.

    i didnt get it.

    they said i was one percentage point away from getting it.

    i had asked all week, am i close, what do i have to do, whats going on, did i make it?

    but they waited until lunch today to tell me that i was close but no cigar.

    they said you must be disappointed but dont fret we have more of these coming.

    i said

    then i said

    then i was all

    then i was like

    in the olden days id write and write and complain and bang on the desk and knock over the bats and run into the dugout and throw the helmets onto the field and go to each of the bases and throw them into the outfield

    and kick the dirt on the umpire

    and call him and his dead relatives names

    and run to the outfield and climb the fence and run up the bleachers and run into the scoreboard and climb to the top of the clock

    and swan dive down into the street

    and die.

    but thats kids stuff. im an adult now.

    which means i dont make messes on the streets.

    i get justice in court.

  3. Friday, January 25, 2002

    when anna calls it always disturbs me, somehow. 

    I think it’s her accent. I love accents, but I’ve never gotten used to hers. It sounds like she’s always mad at me. What does she have to be mad at me for?

    “We won the doubles championship in Melbourne today,” she informed me last night at, oh, three a.m. pacific time.

    “Doubles are for girls,” I said.

    “Why can’t you ever support the things that I do?” she whined.

    “I do, I talk about you all the time. I think you really can win a singles tourney, that’s why I tease you.”

    “Yeah, well it hurts. You could at least congratulate me.”

    “Congratulations, Anna, princess of St. Petersburg.”

    “I’m from Moscow. I mean, I don’t write you and complain that you have a ‘BusBlog’ and you never write about riding the bus anymore!” she said.

    Two mexican kids were on the subway this morning. One of the kids was about five years old, the other was maybe one years old.

    Anna doesn’t like it when I grammar bad. She says it confuses her since she’s trying to iron out her English. But I can’t help it. I have this weird thing where I mimic whoever I’m listening to. I try to be a good listener, but in fact I’m a terrible listener.

    The older Mexican kid was licking the metal pole on the subway car, the one that everyone holds on to as the train is jerking and making it’s way through the city.

    The younger kid was idolizing his older brother. The younger kid was sitting on his mama’s lap. He had a cute little pacifier in his mouth. Some of my hippy friends who have kids don’t believe in the pacifier. They call it a plug.

    “I’m not putting a plug in my child’s mouth,” they say.

    The mexican kid with the plug was watching intently as his brother licked the pole and then the little kid playfully punched the pole. His older brother kept licking.

    When I least expected it, the baby thrust his head at the pole in order to lick it too. His plug hit the pole squarely, as did his cute little mexican kid babyhead. His brother backed away. The baby didnt cry.

    A woman sitting next to me, holding her newborn said something in Mexican to the young mother. The older brother went back to licking the pole. The baby went back to watching his brother. Then he went back to punching the pole.

    Then my stop arrived and I exited and walked up the stairs.

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