BIG BAD.

u wouldn't know it by looking at me but beneath this cool veneer i feel so amped up, brimming over with emotions...like a sad pop song played on fuzzy guitar or a punchbowl from a dead relative that u can't bare to fill with anything except whatever happens to land in there by accident--melted birthday candles, a rusty bottle opener with a cracked handle, a spare set of keys--bills you don't plan on ever opening...


bear bair bare

i want to straddle u

undo yr belt and pull down yr pants

and do u while yr dancing in la-la land with me...

i see a starscape in yr eyes

as it rises over the city...

i see the flickering shadows

cast by the sad stories

that other people trust u with...

i've decided that water is the cure for everything before it starts

like this tickle in my lungs. im gonna flood that shit out.

hey 'green loogie' would be a cool name for a kid's punk band...

like the kind that would be on a sitcom episode. silver spoons or some 80s wildly capitalistic shit like that.

those reagan years were dark days. i was too young to get the details but i got the vibe.

these days are darker.




yes, i'm aware that writing like this

with these broken-up sentences and these extra spaces between the lines does not constitute poetry.

i just like the way it looks.

but going deeper, i write like this cuz i'm constantly tracing the arc of my own thought patterns...which directly effects my ability/disability to type.

in other words i get sick of what im doing so i hit space

either that or im excited for what's next and hit space to get closer to it.

plus i like it to look like lyrics

especially the kind written by someone whose attention span

was clipped short by endless hours of mtv at an early age

(cuz u know im secretly a rock star)





anyways i gotta give it up to my big bad boy, anti. i got my boring blook from hell last friday and it's the sheeeet, mahn. it looks so, so good. of course i'd already read everything in it when it was first online but it looks amazing to see it in print. the layout and everything. there's a big b&w pic of my boy on the back cover (nice stubble) and on the cover a super-duper close-up, over-saturated pic of a fat ass hit. on the binding (which is very professional and not at all cheap and falling apart like i thought it would be) it says 'a stoner's blog turned hardcopy'.

i really like how the blog url is nowhere to be seen. nor are there credits or thank-us or a title page for that matter. or a fuckin, 'about the author' wank-off page. page one is a post, the last page is a post...they're headed by a date--no pix. just text, one post after another...it totally reads like a real book--only better, cuz anti can actually write.

i gave the book to a chick who really hates reading things on a computer screen and has therefore spent little to no time reading blogs. but she's read like, everything else in the world...in several languages. hey, she said, after thumbing through a couple pages, i like this guy. then she proceeded to read several of his posts out loud in her german accent.

lemme tell ya i got such major kicks out of that.

i sat there on the edge of my bed listening with my head cocked. it was a pretty wild experience--i was hearing the words of one friend through the voice of another. both of whom happen to be smart and funny and highly-observant as well as cynical and uncertain and confident, all at the same time.

it occured to me--it's not about country or creed...it's about being a certain kind of person...

damn, i thought. maybe there's a fabulous future in store for all of us afer all?

maybe it's really going to happen.

...all this from something called a blook. jamie and i were wondering about how it was going to look and what one could do with their blog as a book that they could hold in their hands. we didn't come to any conclusions, but agreed that it would be cool just to have it, and we were both excited to get a copy of anti's. jamie said he was waiting to order it until he could work out a plan so that anti could sign it. oh yeah, i said, cuz of course i want him to write something in my copy as well. but i placed my order when that shit was still 17.27. werd to the nerds.

so i guess i just have to go out to LA and get that shit signed in person.

whaddya say annnnnnnni?

as'd ifhsdfia'

(man i'll tell u im just in a state of flux right now...it's not good and it's not bad, just like in the song. it's just dense, yo...and complicated. i mean, it's deep when this blog feels like an anchor in the silvery swimmmmmmming sea)

life's rich pageant.

rockwitit.




peace.