regarding barcelona, and my friends from the island continent of australia...

barcelona... it's hard to explain..... it's touristy but beautiful, and i encoutered about 20 australians , 1 mexican and a few locals... the locals shared absinthe with me. i reminded them that van gough met his death by this means, but they either didnt understand, or didnt give a shit. i think it was the former. the spanish seem to have a hard time understanding my spanish, as well as my english. i made a horrible mistake and did not bring my camera with me... i need to carry it at all times, this is a new goal. tommorrow , more pics.

also,i am staying at a 4 star hotel with no AC. currently, my balls are sweating so much they are complaining about global warming, and general environonmental policy. this makes my balls officially 10 times smarter than our sitting president.

its 4:20 am... goodnight!!!

i tried writing in the journal ...

let's face it -- i'm done with the written word, at least in the literal sense... i am back to bloggin, because i type faster, the words come to me here, and i cannot copy my photos as easily as i can here... so since i have a car and there arent good bars in walking distance from el grrrrrao de castellon, i present this to you:



also i have the following questions/observations which are open to debate

1) why do europeans have so many moles? why are we in the new world immuned to facial aberrations? does this have something to do with our foreign policy? I just dont understand.

2) when in the gay neighborhood of paris, the game "gay or eurotrash" becomes a wash. information theory tells us that a situation like this is intractable ... you may as well flip a coin.

3) no country is worth visiting unless it borders the mediterranean sea. amsterdam is an exception, but its not exactly a country, so F off. seriously, i think england, germany, eastern europe, china, japan, are all useless.. i would also make exceptions to warm countries with unstable political situations, or at least those in which instability is right around the corner. this list would include: anything in south america, mexico or the carribbean. thats about it though.

hmmm that appears it for now... also, regarding the french, why all the hating? i know the jews own the media and shit, but check this out:



now, i'm no rhodes scholar , and my french is a bit weak, but i think this translates to: "he boards with keys... he rolls like that... he fronts.. he marches and shit... he carries tampons with no reason... he skips like a fag... he's got a long dong... he rides bikes...THE DANGEROUS JEW. No Matter how you vote the Jew gets in your way... BE CAREFUL."

no wonder paris is ablaze with foreign automobiles ...

my new ride....

trueno negro ???

european necktie

my trip from above.
constellations seen by the stars themselves
my european necktie.

the greatest sentence ever written...

... and i had nothing to do with it ... SHIT.

anyway, i was reading on wiki about the Reverend Fred Phelps (this christian cult leader who believes God will blow up America on account of the gays) wrote a book with some wacked conspiracy theories. Here is the sentence (with one lead-in):

"Phelps also wrote a book in the 1980s with his son-in-law, Brent D. Roper, called The Conspiracy. In the book, Roper and Phelps claim to possess evidence that AIDS spontaneously generated in Africa; Truman Capote contracted the disease during an orgy with African tribesmen; Capote then gave the disease to John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe by playing football with them; and that the CIA assassinated all three to prevent the spread of the disease."

i don't know even know where to start, so i'm just gonna leave it up there and let people comment on it. anyone care to opine?

pour a brew on the concrete for another fallen brother....

don knotts is dead. whenever another don passes it hits me deep. cause you know that means there's one less of us, and we are indeed a dying breed already. when the don in question puts up 7 good years as mr. furley, we do like we do and pour another brew on the concrete.

san antone weather report....

my man trey does some thing where he blogs every day.. its usually some rumination about whether or not he is gay... either way, my man goes at it every day, relentlessly belting out fragments and elipsesses.......... like that.

you gotta admire his gumption; he is tenacious and rockin memphrica a la willis. . these two should not meet, for the betterment of humaity. either way, i'm getting after it, but instead of ruminating on whether or not trey is gay, i'm going to ruminate on the weather. also, i keep wanting to throw an 'h' into my spelling of rumination. rheumatoid arthritis has conditioned me thusly.

i;m in san antonio today on some bizness venture. regardless, it's warm and windy ,with a 60% chance of riverwalkin' .

shitty weather!

the weather here sucks.. why do i live in california? i'll stay out of it and leave it to tom waits:

---


It's more than rain that falls on our parade tonight
it's more than thunder it's more than thunder
it's more than a swindle this crooked card game
it's more than sad times it's more than sad times
none of our pockets are filled with gold
nobody's caught the boquet
there are no dead presidents we can fold
nothing is going our way
and it's more than goodbye I have to say to you
it's more than woe-be-gotten grey skies now
--

hug it out, bitch

venturing out of an SF stripclub the other day , we were shocked to see some metallica band member/douche at the venue. after the usual 'napster' pleasantries were thrown he approached me in some confusing way, to which i says 'you wanna hug it out? let's hug it out' ... and he says to me 'im not touching you dude.' which i though was wierd cause i always thought metallica was a gay metal band. so then he takes a picture with a female member of our party and we head out . im not sure what any of this means.

nothing is more disturbing than a gayish german cabbie....

truly, the subject line is disturbing enough... but alas, there is more.

last night took me to the marina .. drinks with friends and i figured i'd be safer cabbing from the mission. the mission to marina trek is only two miles long, but they might as well stamp your passport; shit brown streets give way to christmas lights and asian fusion cuisine up the ass. two miles, two different worlds.

regardless, i needed a cab. first, i thought i spotted one coming down valenicia, and i began waving my arm maniacally. my man didnt slow down so i got real close to the street and really wave my shit to get his attention. nothing. what a dick, im thinking as he passes me by. i look closer only to discover that he's a pizza delivery dude. i almost lost my shit, peered in and saw pizza man was also laughing his ass off. so we were cool, and i thought of a funny story to write... another time perhaps.

anyway, im still without a ride and getting a bit annoyed. finally, a yellow cab roared from 15th st way, pulled over and let me in.

right away, there were difficulties. 'no smoking!' cabby yells at me, in his teutonic ways. this is gonna be great... we pull off, head up valencia and roar up franklin street, the greatest northbound thoroughfare this side of lake shore drive.

somehow, about 5 minutes into this ride, Hansy looks out the window and calls someone a 'bitch ass nigga'. i'm like dude, you cant be saying that. and he's like ' nooo i was in the hhhip hhhhop nation... you must say nigga and not nigger there is a big difference!' ... basically, im looking around the cab for gas shafts at this point. these fuckers burnt me once. anyway, no gas, but this guy keeps going. 'do you know what a bitch ass nigga is'? 'nope'. 'a bitch ass nigga is a nigga who wont carry a piece and kill other niggas, like a bitch' ...

geary

sutter

bush

the streets weren't coming fast enough ... and im stugglin to not laugh, to not open the door.

' i used to be in the hip hop nation but it was too difficult!' he says to me. 'yes, ' i reply ,'sounds like a big commitment.' 'yes, i would not wax any niggas so i could not stay!'

california

broadway

green

finally a left on union and the subject changes to 'bitches' ... as we pull up to the spot he reminds me that 'bitches and hoes' aint shit ... as i give him my 10 spot , i am both relieved to get out of that car without incident, and regret that i never followed up on a recent goal -- to carry a tape recorder everywhere i go.. because honestly, i cant make shit up as good as you'll hear from a gayish german cabbie.

Protocol IV

check it:

In 1995 the United Nations adopted Protocol IV of the Geneva Convention that specifically banned the use of laser devices on the battlefield designed to cause permanent blindness.


what the FUCK ... how about this : Protocol V: specifically banning BULLETS from KILLING people.

jane, get me off this crazy thing called love.

i had the pleasure of being served by an angry hair mistress

what a joy it was today, to have my hair coifed by an angry girl in the castro! my first proper (> $10) haircut in years was not dissapointing to say the least... this girl worked me, constantly admonishing me not to move my head because it was fucking with her motions. so i got yelled at a lot, and i enjoyed it, because it is fun to be manhandled by a young lori petty-circa-point break type. beautiful blue eyes that almost drowned me though... i wish a set of circumstances presented itself where it would be prudent to jump out of an airplane with no parachute for you. apparently thats the only way to get through to you people.

NEWS FLASH...... an englishman offered me a ticket to the football match tommorrow between the 49ers and the Football Giants of New York.... i look forward to an afternoon of beers and nihilistic debauch.

i have been afflicted yet again!

those blasted parasites have found me again! actually, there is no proof of the parasitic element, but there is a romantic tinge to the thought that parasites find me a rather affable host. so here's to you! actually, this stomach flu isnt all that bad -- you get to sleep instead of work, and i seem to be losing weight. i highly recommend this to young hollywood starlets and rosie o'donnel.

this is my first blog entry, and i have to say, it's a bit strange writing a would be journal for the masses. in theory, this form should allow me to divulge my inner workings (and intestinal linings apparently) to a captive audience, but in reality i am feeling a bit shy. perhaps it was my strict catholic upbrining, or my puritanical tendencies. it's hard to decipher all of this at once.

San Luis Obispo Napkins

Back in 2004 me and S. Tanasse left work at 3pm to catch Calexico play in San Luis Obispo.

Looking back, I remember the slight look of disappointment in his eyes when I invited myself along. I could tell I would be an imposition, taking away from his one on one time with his german tapes. But I sensed that we could be long time pals and that a little bonding would go a long way. I was right! We rolled down to San Luis Obispo, caught the show, and woke up the following morning at like 500am to come back in time for a remarkably useless 9am meeting.

The show was incredible -- a small venue to see one of my favorite bands around. Neko Case opened and while she was pretty awesome and most indie rocker guys were creaming their jea

ns over her, i decided to retreat. i headed upstairs to the bar to write out some central coast musings. As is my style, I sipped a beer and attacked a cocktail napkin with some thoughts. I wrote one poem and one rant ... i came across this napkin recently and decided to post the contents here...

Happy New Year to everyone!

Soledad

It's nights like these,
Full bars in cool Central Coast towns.

It's nights like these,
Warmed by cut rate gin and a pitcher of Stout.

It's nights like these,
Alone at the bar, I look for you.

And it's on nights like these,
Distance and Time pour through me,
A freezing pint of ice water,
A cold draft of Soledad.

San Luis Obispo, July 13, 2004
---

Untitled.

SLO: Hipsters and low cut jean wearing honeys.
Tattooed small town girls who grew up barefoot on milk
cartons. Beach cruiser bicycles with built in foliage.


Small town incest is seeping through the Gucci pores
of this town. You can smell LA nearby and it smells
like rotten sunshine beaming through last week's
celebrity sightings. Junipero Serra could not have
seen this coming. He could not have imagined tattooed
tits pouring out of caramel halter tops. Were his
toils for naught? Hundreds of years of genocide, for
this? The Central Coast should be ashamed.

San Luis Obispo, July 13, 2004