Tag Archives: Porsche

sex with me… sex with me… sex with me…

the drive
six-dollar garbage
L. A.
Micah’s little lab
dropping by Federal
sunset cruise to Santa Monica
sir, this is valet only
the motel, Steve, Thai curry, the cockroach

Vator Splash
walk for oil
chillin w Tram
goodbye Santa Monica

sunrise to LAX
the literati
trader joes shopping
gal palace
aerienne’s curry
rise of the jack o lanterns
staples center
the pantry
sex with me, sex with me
film shoot
martinis at Clifton

sweating, parking
Meryl the blonde tart
Clara the effortlessly beautiful
Travis the sexy handyman
back at the chicken shack
raw silk
maximum laughter, minimal consequence
scene queen
80s club (wreck 86?) speakeasy
overpass popup
gig rig piss
spurned the hip hop breeze
hot dog, malt liquor, blow

video chat w love
high as fuck w Fitzcarraldo


piece of shit
part one of Anna Karenina
the Ivy
over the garden wall
finished Fitzcarraldo

fragment of shit
cacao coffee
barneys beanery
little dieter needs to fly

bagels n coffee
work, work
laundry out
car wash
seat belt ticket
laundry home
yoga nap
chicken kebab election
bye aerienne

moving the car asleep
cafe 50s
el matador
shower and jojoba
long lyft
a novel Thai feast
double double rye, straight
bye Meryl
bye Virgil
hello j
from sleep

early morning car move again
waiting for the call
toilet call
pack fast and peace
selected ambient drive
peter gabriel
fresh fruit
surprise! Continue reading

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in total, i drank one beer and a few sips of rye this weekend. what an interesting, beautiful weekend.

sunday was the cherry. my love left in the early afternoon after we feasted on bacon, cheesy broccoli eggs, and chili, all thanks to my lovely roommate Xanthe. goodbyes are easier when you’re on a mission for big sound. traffic was just fine, letting me zoom the pantyflasher east across the bay and back in time with plenty of time for sunset. why danville? because:

mesa and fender

in order of appearance in my life: one black Fender jazz. one Mesa M6. and, today acquired, one Mesa 1×15. that’s my new setup, and it should last me for a long while. for a little house in Ingleside, 320 watts running through a single 15″ speaker should suffice. christ, i don’t even know how to play the bass. at least it looks pretty!

now, fat on my own homemade Circassian Chicken, let me attempt a snippet of saturday.

wandering, wandering, wandering…
stark bluff rising like desert architecture…
gentle crashing blue-green-gold Pacific…
ourselves some little California seclusion…
blue blanket out of the bag, green grapes rolling, dark hair
blowing, pink frills lazily flowing, red pepper
goat cheese cracking a kaleidoscope of flavor
and tone and warmth the solar radiation, sometimes
grey floating wisps of dust and fog, ingredients to a perfect state,
the state that is our little California seclusion, my death.
a bit later, after escaping the scythe-wielding timekeeper
the sea, she killed me again.

if you are a good boy in heaven, and you die,
you enter an even greater paradise.

i’ll admit i’m not presenting the entire picture. Continue reading

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(i’m gonna give it to you, give it to you, give it to you, give it to you, give it to you)

in the morning, he feasted on piggy bits while his woman feasted big old spit. and it was so goddamn good that he thought he was hallucinating. and he was

in a grey car zipping
through a grey weather squinting
on a grey bridge swinging

to San Francisco! where he wore Lily in his hair for fifteen minutes or more while waiting for government workers to bring salvation back in the form of a place to park his swinging gray weather.

there’s nothing to do but do what people do, he said, so he showed a black & white picture here, met a decaffeinated chief executive there, penned secret blog posts pretty much everywhere.

cellphone’s dead, swinging bridges grey with grey, blunts is blonde with bombs like, what? selling beer is money? like, what? birthdays feel like birthdays.

speaking of sex,

Continue reading

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