Diary: The Muse, That Flakey Cunt
27 SepOnce you make a rule– in this case, “Sunday morning is writing time–” once you make a rule, the opposite will happen. I took time to do other things. Sixteen minutes to whiten my teeth. Put on a Biore nose strip. Trim my body hair. Sixteen minutes. Enough to derail all meaningful thought for sixteen hours. I’ll never write again. All the other shit I’ve made this week: fucking garbage. Therefore I’ll never be famous. Never make the girls melt like the comedian who shared at AA last night. Now I have to google him like every woman in the room did. God dammit why wasn’t I a comedian. No one googles me but me. Although I do it enough to affect SEO.
Well they can’t do what I do, I think. Sit down at the keys to prove it. Watch the wizardly words flow out of my fingers. Crisply honed sentences. Metaphors that connect souls to truths they’ve thought their whole lives in unguarded corners of the mind but were just inchoate murmurs, until now… WATCH ME. WATCH ME, MOTHERFUCKERS–
Nothing.
Accept defeat. I’ll never write anything good again. What’s left of me. Half decent guitar player; about 60% funny. Enough to get a sideways glance from a fat elderly woman covered in roast beef purple cysts, maybe.
(Check out my book Hot Naked Tits.)
Fuck Los Angeles
20 Sep
A four bedroom house in Hot Springs Montana is 99 thousand fucking dollars. Estimated mortgage: $382 a month. You get a separate detached cottage. The cottage alone, in this shithole fucking city I live in – this disgusting extension of Mexico but with additional loud helicopters and barking dogs and garbage taxes and women who’d rather be set on fire than smile at you– a cottage next to a stucco nest of murderous bike stealing cholos who grill cactuses and light off fireworks and gun Harleys 24 hours a day, as many of them in there as termites in one of those twelve foot mounds in Kenya– this shed costs seven hundred fifty fucking thousand dollars, plus property taxes to pay for schools with the literacy rate of the fucking Hills Have Eyes family; the mortgage after a hundred fifty fucking thousand dollars down is the entire pre-tax income of the median American household. Continue reading
My First Ever Online Date
18 Aug
not her, but close
I was on Match. 2006. My “headline” was “You should totally go out with me.” A girl messaged me saying “my roommate should totally go out with you.” I thought it was some kind of scam but no one else on the site gave a shit that I existed, so, I heard her out. She sent pics. They were of an American Apparel ass model. I thought: OK, now I gotta know what the scam is. So I set a date near my place. I honestly thought there would be people with cameras laughing at me.
I get there and it really is an American Apparel ass model. Also a med student. Really gorgeous, really smart, everything. We drank wine and it went well and she suggested we go back to my place. We did. And I had no idea how going on a date works, so– I didn’t make a move. I didn’t even kiss her. We talked for two more hours and then I walked her out and gave her a peck on the cheek goodnight. I thought that’s what you were supposed to do, seriously. And I thought the second date should be dinner so I asked her out again and she got all hesitant and weird and eventually just flaked.
I’ve been behaving like a complete pig ever since. Chasing down the ghost of the best pussy I ever could have had.
New Book
delicioustacos 