nothing in here is true

  1. Friday, February 6, 2015

    mom, dont look at this post 


    my moms the best mom ever. shes just looking out for her first born.


    she grew up in a time and a place where everyone was nicer and sweeter and way more polite


    except for the crazies discriminating and hanging black people and making them feel terrible about their skin


    so when i swear or use the lords name in vain or put up a “weird” picture, she’ll text me


    “whats going on with all the cursing, are you ok?”


    im totally ok ma, i teller, sometimes you gotta keep it real


    when i was at E! she was very sad because i was cursing like a sailor. same when i was running LAist


    at the Times, my boss advised me to tone it down and man was ma on top of the world.


    where i work now no one cares about this blog because blogging is dead and you know what good


    because even the good book keeps trying to tell us that when you die…


    …you go to heaven


    and in heaven everything is beautiful, even the four letter words



  2. Thursday, January 29, 2015

    andrew sullivan quit blogging today: good 

    kennedy deppi didnt read his whole deal, because it was whining, but i understand.

    blogging isn’t easy. especially marathon blogging. and for sure its a grind when youre writing about politics.

    but judging from what i read, bro was sad that there isn’t a vibrant blogging community out there any more, and it seemed he was sad there wasnt a bunch of money left in it neither.

    to quote the great artie lang: whaaaaaaaaa.

    omg boo hoo you cant make a bucketload from writing on the web.

    i say good.

    when the blogosphere was buzzing, those were some good times, but does no one remember all the scum? all the lame ass blogs trying to teach you how to make money from your crappy crap?

    all the blogs that were just echos of the others?

    ignorance on top of ignorance sprinkled with annoyance?

    all of those ppl are gone now.

    now is the time the real bloggers are doing their thing.

    anyone can blog when there are ads paying your rent and commentors fueling your ego

    the real writing happens in a lonesome, empty

    darkly lit


    now is the worst time to bail.

  3. Thursday, January 22, 2015

    after the winds come and go 

    tupac and snoop doggand the rain and the three cold days

    the stars come back, a miracle because of

    all the light pollution

    and they just wanna hang there.

    they think we’re better

    than we think we are.

    imagine that.

    prettiest things in the universe.

    my doctor says the xbi doctor is right

    that im gonna live as long as those stars

    so i probably should stop it with the mcdonalds breakfasts.

    how about no drive thrus until after 8pm

    she asked snapping the rubber glove.

    im always down for a challenge.

    this is the creamiest avocado ive ever had.

    how is that possible.

    how is anything possible.

    we are robots with self charging solar batteries and the most miraculous cpus.

    you know why i believe in god?

    because he showed off

    with our eyes.

    not just practical


    and .

    the big bang doesnt accidentally produce eyes like yrs

  4. Sunday, January 18, 2015

    i got a nice message today from someone telling me they think im cool 


    im not the slightest bit cool.

    i actively seek out the worst clothes and then never iron them.

    i refuse to clean anything except my uber car and my body.

    then theres my body, ahahahaha

    if anything i just try to be relaxed. something i learned from sandy koufax.

    heres what bill murray said a few years ago to the new york times about being relaxed.

    “The more relaxed you are, the better you are at everything: the better you are with your loved ones, the better you are with your enemies, the better you are at your job, the better you are with yourself.”

    so there you have it. uncool, but cool with it.

  5. Friday, December 12, 2014

    if i could explain it i would 

    its happening

    but i cant and i wont and i know but i dont but it is

    i keep saying one day i’ll write it but i never do

    i hate looking backwards because im not sure but i hate it

    i dream about whats ahead and thats lame too

    and when the moment is bursting im living it

    im probably the worst blogger of all time

    who has written for so long.

    with that said, shits going down so get ready.

  6. 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

  7. 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.

  8. 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.

  9. 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.


  10. 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


    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