busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Monday, January 19, 2015

    is fear your friend or your foe 

    wolf of wall streetwhen i look around my apartment and wonder why i dont have a house i think about two things, three really, that are keeping me back.

    and theyre all crazy.

    the first is the lottery. for some reason i think one day imma win the big grand prize and buy a house on the hill in hollywood with an infinity pool.

    the feeling is so real i wonder if in a past life i won the lottery and bought a house and had a former porn star maid who wore great clothes, dusted from time to time but mostly floated around the pool reading the wall street journal.

    the second is a series of books. for some reason whenever i feel like i need a million bucks i need to write a few books like how bukowski did and move to san pedro. but then theres this voice in my head that says “dont you forget, you hate writing books, and youre tired of them, and they take so long, and theyre painful. and btw you suck at writing anything longer than what would fit on a post card.”

    and then i think fine, i will make a book of post card love letters to random ladies.

    the third is marrying rich. but i dont wanna get married. im sure i would get bored within minutes, even if she was super rich. and im positive i would bore her too.

    to me the worst thing in the world is to be bored. life is a miracle. id rather read the web and my books and watch tv and drive LA around LA all day than be in a relationship where i wasnt stimulated by the person i was shacked up with.

    even if she was a zillionaire. especially if she was a zillionaire bc i bet she would have interesting friends who would give us tips on how to remodel our mcmansion, which doesnt need any damn remodeling. and who would saunter over during the day when i was supposed to be writing and she would float in the pool with the x pornstar maid and theyd talk about what they read in the wall street journal and yell at me to look up and judge their high diving contest.

    and id say we dont have a high dive

    and theyd say, we are high, and we’re gonna dive, so judge us.

    and thats why everyone wants to marry rich. but we all know that never works out.

    why? because no one wants to be the silver medalist. which is who you are when you dont fall fall fall into omg i love you love.

  2. Sunday, January 18, 2015

    drove a couple on their first date through hollywood last night 

    sad katie is sad because of the green bay packershe was strikingly handsome and confident and in control.

    it was closing time and all the younguns were huddled on the curbs waiting for their rides to pick them up.

    they were arguing because she wanted to head to her apartment real quick to take a leak and grab a sweater and he wanted to pick up his guy friend.

    because i was raised right i told them both that i would drive to the lady’s house

    because shes a lady and we as gentlemen should honor that.

    fuckit if he gave me a one star rating.

    as we waited outside her pad he explained to me what he was up to: they were headed to a hollywood hills after party and the friend was a buddy who had cocaine and he didn’t want to miss the chance to meet up with him.

    meanwhile she was “just a” Tinder date. he had an exwife in town and an exgirfriend he still wasnt over who lived out of town.

    as he told me these tales and showed me pictures on his phone of the beautiful women he was juggling, i couldnt but help thinking about katie’s post last week about how hard it is for a single girl to get a handsome man in LA to not be a selfish asswipe.

    because it’s true. even if you’re not a handsome player, LA is awash in spectacular women of all sorts from all around the world who are down for whatever, because why not, we’re in LA.

    i have no advice for anyone, for once. except for this: love is the most elusive butterfly. you never know where it will land or how long it will loiter there.

    if you grab at it you might kill it, and if you think you’re clever enough to predict it’s next move you’re actually cray.

    so just do your best to do the impossible: enjoy the crazy dance.

    and if that’s hard, then enjoy the beautiful music playing.

  3. Monday, June 30, 2014
  4. Monday, June 16, 2014

    got a hundred dollar check in the mail and i wanna buy sushi 

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    today was a pretty fun day, the boss made us have a meeting at a restaurant

    where the world cup was playing because he knew some of us would be distracted

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    the meeting wasnt till 3pm so i went to the food trucks for fish and saw these funny signs

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    kurt cobain called me on my cell he was all, tony when are you gonna write another novella about me

    i said all you had to do was ask buddy

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    then he told me to go to the Replacements instagram and i saw that theyre playing in NYC

    and i was all man o man i really should go see that show IN A TENNIS COURT

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    learned that churro ice cream sandwiches are a new thing in LA but only in Los Feliz

    WAIT THATS RIGHT BY MY HOUSE OMG OMG

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    learned that Tony Gwynn died at 54 years old this morning. only Padre i cared about.

    sweetest guy. best black MLB hitter since maybe ever. unless you count Barry Bonds

    but why would you count him? didn’t Gwynn get fat and bulky as he got older too?

    anyways as i looked up Gwynns crazy numbers in the record books i saw that he only had 3,100 hits

    about 1,000 less than Pete Rose, my hero.

    Gwynn played 20 years. hit .306 or higher in all of them except his pre-rookie season

    to have caught up to Rose he woulda had to have gotten 50 extra hits every season

    for 20 years.

    what a testament to Charlie Hustle

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    they ordered onion rings and all this fried stuff as we watched soccer and drank beers but i didnt eat nothing

    secretly i was sad that of all things Tony Gwynn died because of cancer from chewing tobacco

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    people croak from the craziest things

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    i’ll probably croak from kissing the wrong girl all night and having my heart assplode

  5. Thursday, May 1, 2014

    i learned something fascinating about orson welles today 

    orson

    bro was a super talented young genius who busted out Citizen Kane when he was 25

    wrote, starred and directed what most people think is the greatest american film ever made

    (cough blues brothers)

    when How Green Is My Valley won the Oscar for Best Picture you can hear the audience grumble their collective wth

    so he goes off and makes the Magnificent Ambersons, a 2 1/2 hour epic

    and then runs off and makes another movie only to discover the studio hacked an hour off of it.

    without telling their boy genius what they had done to the followup of his masterpiece.

    it was a great lessson to me because when weird things happen to me i think “dont they know who i am?”

    “dont they appreciate what I just did for them?”

    “didnt I just get water out of rock for them? and make them money? and did it all with a smile?”

    but the story of the Mag Ambs taught me that sometimes people just ruin stuff

    they dont care if youre tony pierce of the world famous busblog

    or some nobody named orson welles.

    shit will get fuct sometimes and you just need to deal and not freak

    because it has nothing to do with you no-how.

    it just is and its stinky and the good lord just wants you to call it a comeback and rock something super awesome next time

    as in right away.

    then i read this love poem old fat Orson wrote to his wife Rita Hayworth and i was all omg awwww

    Dearest Angel Girl,

    I suppose most of us are lonely in this big world, but we must fall tremendously in love to find it out. The cure is the discovery of our need for company — I mean company in the very special sense we’ve come to understand since we happened to each other — you and I. The pleasures of human experience are emptied away without that companionship — now that I’ve known it; without it joy is just as unendurable as sorrow. You are my life — my very life. Never imagine your hope approximates what you are to me. Beautiful, precious little baby — hurry up the sun! — make the days shorter till we meet. I love you, that’s all there is to it.

    Your boy,
    Orson

     

     

     

     

  6. Monday, March 31, 2014

    kisses are a better fate than wisdom 

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    since feeling is first
    who pays any attention
    to the syntax of things
    will never wholly kiss you;
    wholly to be a fool
    while Spring is in the world

    my blood approves
    and kisses are a better fate
    than wisdom
    lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
    —the best gesture of my brain is less than
    your eyelids’ flutter which says

    we are for each other: then
    laugh, leaning back in my arms
    for life’s not a paragraph

    and death i think is no parenthesis

    – ee cummings

    kissin

  7. Wednesday, March 12, 2014
  8. Friday, February 14, 2014
  9. Tuesday, January 7, 2014
  10. Wednesday, December 25, 2013

    two thousand and 14 years ago today a little baby had a price on his head 

    little house

    dude wasnt even born yet and the king of the land wanted him murdered.

    the baby’s dad had one job. get a motel room.

    bro didn’t have to impregnate the momma, didnt have to have a good job, big house, nothing

    just had to find a place to deliver this angel unto the world.

    today is the birthday of an actual angel.

    the dictionary says an angel is “a spiritual being believed to act as an attendant, agent, or messenger of God, conventionally represented in human form with wings and a long robe.”

    so minus the wings thats what todays birthday boy was: a living angel sent here to be our agent

    messenger

    and attendant.

    when i think about Christianity i think about those things.

    even in the old testament humans were made by God to attend to the Earth and all the cool freaky things down here

    and some of the freaky things are the people who wanna get in the way of Good.

    or who i find more interesting: the people who get in the way and don’t even realize it.

    Herod wasn’t the only hater Jesus had in his life.

    in fact it’s easier to count the number of people who were all Team Jesus than those who weren’t buying it.

    even his so called disciples turned their back on him – and worse, their hearts – at some point.

    but Jesus kept on trucking because he knew his role: to be our attendant – and who are we?

    idiots who eat apples because talking snakes tell us to.

    morons who lose our minds over things that look pretty in the right light.

    and lemmings who fall for the same traps that our predecessors did no matter how much we claim we’ve learned.

    thats who Jesus signed up to sacrifice everything for

    for some unknown reason thats never fully explained in the good book

    which means it could only be one thing

    if it’s not logical, it must be for love.

    happy birthday you crazy angel

    thank you for making us in your loving image.

    for no good reason other than to see what else can be done using true angelic love.