busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, November 18, 2014

    sometimes the well is dry 

    cobains journalssometimes the place where all the good stuff is fermenting is empty

    the moths are dead at the bottom

    the gnats are long gone

    even the dust has found a better place to settle.

    sometimes you look back in your online web log to see what you were doing 10, 11, 12 years ago and of course you were raising your fist at authority, screaming at the shadows, banging at the door

    dancing in the tournefortia.

    oh to be young and beautiful again. oh to have the adoration of thousands.

    bring be back to the days before facebook and twitter and paypal and instagram.

    back when blogs roamed the earth and ideas flowed as freely as love.

    remember when nba cheerleaders and their sisters would camp out waiting for their favorite blogger to get home from the busstop?

    remember how the southern girls would type letters in their bathtubs, ink smearing, misspelled words typed over with hashtags

    letters sealed with lipstick and drawings, phone calls with drawlings.

    thats where the well is.

    gurgling well well well

    whispering al gore

    is dead

    coughing up dust

    ask the dust

    it’ll tell u

    ask it

  2. Saturday, November 8, 2014

    working six days a week has its benefits: riches, bitches, grillz 

    tiredbut somewhere along the way you get tired. especially once you realize that money is a phony game of pretend

    and even the good book said beware beware beware.

    its easier for a camel to get through the eye of the needle than for a rich man to get into the gates of heaven is one of our best clues from Jesus himself that the almighty dollar isn’t what the almighty is about.

    even though that metaphor, like Hole, is pretty on the inside, what they were talking about was this narrow mountain pass in Israel a long long time ago.

    if you and your camel were traveling light, you could make it through the pass no probs

    but if you were an old school hoarder and you had gold in a sack over here and silver in a sack over there and all of it hanging off your camel, it would have a mighty rough time squeezing through the treacherous narrow paths, and especially the tiny passageway known back then as

    The Eye of the Needle

    the good book is trying to tell us that frankincense, myrrh, rolexes, beamers, and all of our Stuff is not only not necessary in Paradise

    but it’s more of a burden to us here on Earth than we think.

    when Jesus asks whose face he sees on a coin, the dude says oh thats Julius Caesar.

    to which Jesus tosses the coin to the bro and says “give to Caesar what’s Caesar’s”

    as if to say, LOL kid stuff.

    what Jesus is about is what we should all be about: soul.

    soul has no price. a rich man can’t buy it at Kitson’s and take it home and show all of his rich asshole friends.

    soul comes from something priceless and is nurtured with each step we take, each decision we make, each action, every word, and if you’re playing the advanced portion of the game: every single thought.

    fakers laughed at Jimmy Carter when he admitted to Playboy that he sins with his heart, but the xpresident is more than just a bible reader, he’s an expert on soul.

    and love.

    and peace.

    and doing unto his neighbor the way he’d a wanted his neighbor to do unto his ass.

    so it’s ok to work hard, and long, and for a good purpose, just remember that any asswipe can collect cash.

    the real trick is ignoring the sparkly flashy distractions that weigh us down from getting out of the desert.

  3. Tuesday, November 4, 2014

    we’re not here to change for someone else 

    Matthew Grabelskyif she wants an ape she’s gonna find her perfect ape boy.

    if he wants a coffee sipping subway rider, he’s gonna find what he’s looking for.

    if you stay in your condo all day and drink wine and read the newspapers and never discover that you have actual wings that actually take you places you will never

    actually live.

    we are here to actually live

    actual lives.

    lives that span more than just one trip around the sun, hun.

    this belief that things are supposed to be like how they were in the Bronte’s time is stuff white ppl like. but white ppl get divorced like all the damn time so either they also like divorce or they realize we dont die at 40 which means why get married at 28.

    we die when we sell out and make the baby Jesus cry.

    i want to be constantly changing, constantly growing, constantly meeting new people of all walks. of all runs. of all flights.

    you have to break a lot of eggs to make a chocolate cake but after brunch comes lunch and then linner

    bitch aint had linner in forlever.

    then supper then dessert then after drinnker drinks somewhere you aint never been before

    long drives through the woods on a school night

    quick flights to whereever cuz we’re young and beautiful and the world is ours.

    a row boat ride to the other side.

    the lord gave us two legs and one heart that beats for someone

    and if she wants to have it beat for someone she can beat down

    then im not down.

  4. Thursday, October 16, 2014

    has it been hard without television or the web? 

    2CXLO yes.

    but the good news is the cats and i are bonding and im reading the bible every day.

    and im cleaning like mad. which mostly consists of throwing everything out.

    even the good stuff.

    which i have a lot of.

    two closets which have been jam packed with muck for the last 12 years are now far less mucky. one ended up empty!

    mom you should stop reading the rest of this blog post

    i found a dead uh visitor in one of the closets. it got lost in the clutter and couldnt find its way out and cursed me with its last mini rodent breath. i didnt even know what it was when i picked it up but when it landed in the garbage its dust formed a familiar pattern.

    and it squeaked screw you busblog.

    there were two themes in the closets: music and smut. far too much of both. in wild assortments of delivery devices.

    all of it must go. some of it has already gone.

    realized i have three drills. im not mr handy, sorry ladies, but i know how to work a drill. i have two 18″ bits so i can put a hole through pretty much anything in your home: brick, stone, marble. you do learn a few things in the xbi.

    so many remote controls. the grandest collection of AC adapters. and then there are the love letters.

    how can a man have low self esteem with the reams of beautifully handwritten letters women from around the world have given me, and yet, alas, it’s true. in my mind no one has ever really wanted me, and if they had it was a passing fad, and that was only due to intoxications.

    but then i read a few of these and i was like, are those seriously for me?

    one woman typed using a typewriter while taking a bath and drinking. after each paragraph she would type

    drink time. ding!

    then she drew a picture of herself. and it was fantastic!

    who was this tony pierce of days gone by?

    who knows and who cares, it’s all now being recycled somewhere in Irwindale unless a junkie needs to wipe his bloody spike off on it, in which case, bon appetite.

    ding!

  5. Friday, October 10, 2014

    busblogs dont explain things with words 

    kyla and tyler in 2008which is ironic because of the blog the poems the stories the novellas and the text messages.

    busblogs explain with actions.

    in a perfect world all there’d be is scoreboard. results. stuff.

    i hear some people say oh he means well or oh he has a good heart but in real life what were his actions. they werent good.

    my actions are so good theyre boring. my words are so boring theyre dull.

    theres two things ive noticed in my waning years on this crust: people like to do things with me on nights where i want to uber

    and people want to talk talk talk to me on the phone.

    bill murray invented the perfect way of life. he got a cell phone to text his sons and he got an 800 number for people to

    try

    to reach him. but for the most part he never calls anyone back. unless it’s awesome.

    i love the people. all the people. theres probably only 4-5 people i dont love and they know who they are.

    they wronged me in brutal ways and never apologized so the hell with them.

    the rest i love and they all know the best days to hang out with me are weekdays after work minus fridays.

    and they also know not to make me call them on the phone. i know i have a pretty voice. how about i just whisper it.

    i also dont like to be told what to do. if you ask nice i’ll probably do it. especially if you whisper it.

    do these things mean that i’ll never be married and tied down with a mortgage and kids and soccer practices

    and animals barking as im trying to watch the bears game in my study?

    is bill murray happy?

    not even the barking dog in my neighbors apartment is happy and that fucker can lick his own nuts

    so what chance do any of us have

  6. Wednesday, September 10, 2014

    theres only a few things i want in my life 

    10668023_10152675622468057_324934967_o

    love, of course.

    honesty. as in super dooper really real. which isnt so hard.

    people around me who dont believe that the world is a certain way or destiny isnt a hard and fast rule

    or that we are doomed to only do the things our parents did.

    if i ever have kids i dont want them to think that they can only do the things i did.

    i want them to know they can be better. that they can break through whatever barriers i met.

    i want them to know the world is weird and wonderful and random and beautiful and one minute you might be alone and content

    and the next minute you can be in a house with a new girlfriend, and old girlfriend, and two cats.

    and then the day you might be totally alone again.

    old girlfriend might be moved into a new pad. new girlfriend might be done with you for the week.

    and neighbors might have wanted to adopt young Prince and young Michael.

    yes you can try to have a safe stable life but not if you want higher highs.

    not if you wanna learn weird stuff and embody it.

    and then write it down for you and you and you.

    in a few years i will start writing.

    this was just exercises to cure my carpal.

    tonight amber and i are going to a fancy french restaurant.

    i may even wear pants.

  7. Tuesday, August 5, 2014

    what do i do when people are mean to me: nothing 

    Bob Dylan with Get Born sign

    what does the boulder do? what does the mountain do? what does the sea do?

    they keep on giving the invisible finger to the haters, the polluters, the fakers, the liars.

    its the ones without courage that im the most concerned with tonight as i fly chopper one for the first time in years.

    did i steal it? you cant steal whats invisible. you cant steal whats been stolen.

    you cant steal a mans best friend.

    what does the chopper do when its soul mate is back in the saddle? it hums.

    only eddie van halen can play that one guitar with the stripes.

    only babe ruth can swing that 39 ounce mammoth bat.

    theres only one busblog only one chopper one only one person meant to fly those things

    and it sure aint Fear.

    mr t pitied the fools.

    me, i never liked being called t

    so he can pity those fools too.

  8. Tuesday, July 29, 2014
  9. Friday, July 25, 2014

    flashback friday: the girl who also liked newspapers 

    hotel

    deep down im a very old man. actually not that deep.

    while in college i went hiking my freshman year with a bunch of new college friends.

    they thought it would be funny to wake up, sprinkle granola bars with lsd

    and give them to all of us sleeping amigos as the sun rose.

    i knew something was up because who giggles and says eat this tony unless evil lurks.

    it was quite a way to wake up, lemme tell you, and that whole morning slash afternoon i whined

    why are we hiking? whats the point? why did we sleep in the dirt? black people dont do this!

    and i realized that i was like a weird milk chocolate candy bar.

    on the outside i was beautiful and smooth and delicious

    and in the creamy center i was full of youth and sweetness

    but right in the middle of that i was this hard old nut maybe a million years old.

    which i was reminded up not that long ago when i woke up in a hotel suite with a pretty girl

    who for some reason thought it was ok to put her tea service on our bed

    when there was a perfectly good night stand right next to her.

    she was all, shut up grandpa and read this to me as i fall back to sleep.

  10. Saturday, July 19, 2014

    it’s so dry the ants and the spiders wanna come in 

     

    there was a spider

    and im all, trust me i understand but dont we leave the garden hoses drippy enough

    dont the neighbors do their laundry omg every day?

    arent we constantly pouring out a little for the homies who aint here?

    and the ants were all, you realize you work for us, dont you?

    and the spiders were like you know what we do when you sleep, right?

    and the walls said you know we talk when youre outta the house.

    so i burned everything down.

    all of it.

    still, the ants came back the next day

    and crawled over the burnt shells of debris

    and sipped from the endless puddles left by the fire hoses

    and said thanks, now clean this crap up.