Friday, December 31, 2010

For Sale - One Original Screenplay by Ryan Hume and Adam Vieyra

Movies Recently Enjoyed:
1. I'm Still Here (I can't stop thinking about this shit! And I don't care what anybody says, I think its for real and the only conceivable way he could ever even attempt to make a comeback was to detox for a year and then announce that the whole thing was an elaborate hoax meant to comment on the pitfalls of modern celebrity. And blow.)
2. Exit Through the Gift Shop
3. (*ahem) Paper Heart
4. The Crazies (Sheriff Bullock in a zombie movie!)
5. The Radiant Child
6. Home Alone

Movies on Deck:
1. Cloudy with the chance of Meatballs
2. The Toy (with Richard Pryor)
3. Where the Wild Things Are (why are these all kids movies?)
4. Corvette Summer (Luke!)
5. The Sting (Cool Hand Luke!)
6. True Grit
7. The Golden Child (again)

Saturday, December 18, 2010

before it was called billie

old eye



so it's the city

so what? last night i had a dream my hand was badly broken and i could see through the skin. i remember thinking, the bone is blunt, maybe it won't break through. and it didn't. i moved on. it's ironic that sometimes i can remember my dreams when i can't even remember what happened to me in my actual life.
i wonder though.
it's warm enough but i hardly - what?
i am full of oven pizzas tonight thanks to fresh and easy. (what the fuck did that dude want with my scarf?)
i can't wait to sell this motorcycle and be done with it.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I don't hunt, not more than anyone else does.

I can't listen to Jethro Tull. For whatever reason the name "Jethro Tull" makes me think of clams and it's all ruined. No joke.

Friday, December 10, 2010

chri$ is my big greek boss who doesn't want me dead yet!


I'm thinking of buying up all the old Atkins Diet books with hopes that someday they'll be worth something or at least be funny on a coffee table

fucking seafood. are you kidding me, world, with seafood? fishies? clams? fucking lobsters? lobsters look like giant alien bugs and clams smell like shit. and fish are harmless i guess except for sharks which are fucking terrifying. i wish i'd never even seen jaws. that movie fucking ruined me. i cant even swim in a swimming pool without thinking about some archaic killer beast fish lurking in all the shady spots. and yes, i know, but there is a such thing as salt water pools and havent you ever seen that old school Bond film where the bad dude closes the lid over the pool that Bond's in and unleashes a swarm of angry hungry sharks? coldblooded! i mean, buy a fucking gun, guy, or hire yourself a little assassin sniper and do that shit, quit fucking around, loading up your sharks into the holding tank, feeding them cold meat everyday and waiting like a spinster for james bond to fall into your fucking swimming pool. and dont train lanky supermodels to do fucking caporeira and think its gonna be an effective security choice. they're fucking DANCING and even while bond is getting leg sweeped by your skinny bitches he's fucking clowning on you so hard in his head. did her tit just pop out? christ, keep kicking, chick, this is the best assignment i've ever been on! that's bond, you know, in his head. and also he's like, does this suit still look cool? and, damn dude, maybe i should cool it on those martinis cause i'm trying to fight for my life right now with a wicked serious buzz. are those sharks??

A car's interior totally filled with foam almost like that scene in Demolition Man

They charge for bags now. Prepare yourself. Don't be like me, thinking you're all Beat by bopping down to the check-in desk with seven American dollars in your wallet. You WILL discover your humility. Your bop will drop like a sack of onions. And for a second you'll get the quiver voice, like, "well, what now?" And you'll call your friends who are all working and look forelornly out the window until a young woman with big sweet smile and bouncing baby approaches you, saying "I couldn't help but overhear..." And she'll come back from an ATM and your jaw will drop like a sack of onions that keeps getting dropped and she'll deny all repayment plans you muster and you'll shake her saintly hand, humbly, and shimmy excitedly to pay for your checked bag, exulting in the fact that there are still good people in the world. And you'll think of Haley Joe Osmond and a scarred Kevin Spacey. You'll think of Haley Joe Osmond.

My new denim wallet is cool but I don't want to pay Dana 20 bucks for it

I'm taking a trip to Chicago! Hup hup! I've never been to Chi-Town, I'm pretty excited. Between the newest Batman movie and Michael Jordan and the stories Tommy tells, it sounds like a young man's drunk Lego Land. You just gotta know how to put the pieces together, baby! And I can make a Lego staircase like a motherfucker. Sometimes they don't even go anywhere, just up and up, so my Lego peeps can get up there to the top and be closer to God. Lego-God. Legod. Get close tiny Lego guy! Raise those stubby arms and get your scoops up there! Legod dishes it up, fills scoops with miracles like ice cream and even the melt is holy. Amen.

For Sale: Blue balls, never used

If I was a superhero my power would be being good at guessing approximately what time it is right now. I'm so good, it's scary. Like, I barely need an alarm clock but I use one anyway, a hidden little one on my cell phone, so as to appear normal and a part of the citizenry. Then if a girl sleeps over and she's like, I have to get up for work tomorrow can you set an alarm and you're like, nah baby it's cool I got this it's basically my superpower but don't tell anybody. It just sounds weird.

Knife Fight

I fucking HATE short socks. The ones that peek out from underneath low tops, all off-white and going nowhere, the ankles showing like 17th century cleavage. But knives are ok, I guess. For a while I lived in a Euro country and I started carrying a little pocket knife with wolves on the handle cause I'd stumble home drunk as fuck from O' Carolans on quiz night when the winning team gets a bottle of whatever they want and my homie George Reynolds was a trivia super-genius and for whatever reason I would check car doors and if one was unlocked I'd get in and just SIT THERE for a few minutes then finish stumbling home but feel paranoid, hence the knife. Guns are cool though. Right now I'm obsessed with toy guns. And kittens, for whatever reason (no joke). But I hate cats. Anyway, I'm thinking about investing in pepper spray, which I could've used the other night when I was at the Soda Bar and I threw a coaster at my good friend Nick Haskel and accidentally grazed the shoulder of some aggressive caveman in a mint green hooded sweatshirt who subsequently tried to fight me despite my genuine apology until Kelvin swept in like a super-hero and scooped the aforementioned douchebag up and out and far far away. Thanks Kelvin. I was gonna break a bottle and shove the glassy end into his face but I'm more of a lover and less of a fighter. Plus I broke one wrist skateboarding and one of my hands being an idiot so I'm basically Glass Joe from Punch-out. Or more like King Hippo, I guess, cause during fights I just run my mouth like “Blurp, blurp blurp” and throw an upper-cut every five minutes.

Last Night I had Triscuits and Pistachios for Dinner

Do you buy groceries? Like at a Trader Joe's/ Whole Foods kind of thing or one of those classic Von's/Ralph's supermarkets? I used to work at a Trader Joe's but now find it difficult to even be in one of the buildings. And, my god, fuck the old school shit, unless its one of those little mom and pop markets with dusty shelves and fruitflies, in which case you have a better feel for who you're supporting, but fuck, the GALL these Von's managers have, or Food 4 Less or Ralph's or anyone who runs a store like a casino, with no clocks or windows and with the whole place lit up like a goddamn hospital bathroom in Palm Springs. I want to wear shades when I walk in there, its so bad, but i normally dont have the gusto to keep them on for very long, unless i'm pretty good and buzzed and dont give a fuck . but i hate how everybody looks at everybody -remember when it was the hot new dating tip to mingle at supermarkets? checking the firmness of grapefruits coyly while eyeing the pretty girl grabbing potatoes? like, "excuse me, this is a little embarassing but i was wondering if you'd help me pick out good grapefruits. i've never bought them before and just read this article about how incredibly good they are for you..."- fuck that shit. nobody talks to anybody and the closest i've come to having a moment was when i was buying a frozen pizza that time and checked a girl out in the reflection of the glass frozen food doors. and thats not even on deck. thats fucking dugout drudgery and i cant take it. so yes, i eat out pretty much all of the fucking time.

Gracie is My Neighbor

so i made the mistake of telling the next door neighbor that i would share a beer with her after her mom died a couple weeks ago. i did it to be nice, for sure, because she said she was going to be lonely and i felt bad. but as it turns out i think she's twacked out on meth and getting worse by the day. she just lost some front teeth and says its because she fell but i've fallen before and i've fallen on my face before and been so drunk i couldnt remember how to lift my arms to shelter my fragile face and i still have a knock-out set of semi-pearly whites. but now when i just left to go to the little corner store to buy a sixer for myself so that i can decompress after i get home from work tonight, while i'm on the phone with my dad, no less, having forgotten his fucking birthday yesterday, the whole time she's trying to interject with an impromptu heart to heart what am i supposed to do? apparently she just recently called the cops on our empty house and claimed we had ten black dudes in our backyard smoking weed when i know maybe one black dude total and we don't ever invite him over to our house. so i told her i'd stop by but i didnt. and i dont plan to. instead, im gonna bolt out of here when i need to leave for work and hide my head ninja-style in a blue scarf hoping to be hidden.