I’m at the point in Bob Mould’s book where he just started Sugar; this, of course, happens after he terminated Hüsker Dü.

I was thinking about getting rid of cable TV and keeping my Netflix account and getting a Hulu “Plus” account, too.

I bought a new printer recently, and I’m having a blast making prints of some of my pictures…but I won’t go as far as calling my pictures “photographs”.

Maggie is 8 1/2 years old and suffers from hip dysplasia; it’s so bad her front legs are starting to go, as they’ve been over-compensating for her weak hind legs. We spoon a lot, but I never slip it in. She’s called me a tease more than once.

I’d guestimate I spend about 85% of my free time alone, and out of that time, I’d say I’m lonely 10% of the time, and taking that 10% into consideration, I’d say 95% of it is between 10pm and when I go to sleep, which varies between midnight and 2 am.

One of the great songs: The Damned’s “New Rose” — but I’m not a big fan of theirs. Same goes (on both counts) for “(I’m) Stranded” by The Saints.

Thinking of those two songs makes me take back all the bad things I ever said about 70’s music.

When I was a kid, my first foray into music was WLS MUSICRADIO 89; this is the top 5 songs they played for the week ending September 7, 1974, and revisiting this list makes me think of sitting in the passenger seat as mom drove us to The Museum of Science and Industry: “(You’re) Having My Baby”, “The Night Chicago Died”, “I Shot the Sheriff”, “Tell Me Something Good” (Rufus!), and “Feel Like Makin’ Love”.

The Minion started blogging. Go check him out.

People take porn way too seriously.

I’m totally slacking on yoga practice. This is why I’ve been uptight lately.

John Updike once said Death, Sex, and Art are the three Great Mysteries in life, and I agree with him…but I’d like to add The Fourth Great Mystery: relationships. Wait…maybe “Sex” covers relationships. Yes, in fact, it does. So there is no Fourth Great Mystery.

I’m hoping people start dumping their books cheap and using that money to buy Kindles and iPads and whatever other sort of e-Readers are out there, just like people dumped their records in the mid-to-late 80’s to buy CD’s; this time, I’m gonna buy all the books I can and not fall for the same trick I did in 1985.

I like Kindles and iPads and whatever other sort of e-Readers are out there, cause they facilitate reading. But I like books way better. Tangibility goes a long way.

I want to lose 35 pounds, so when I’m 200, my penis will appear to be an inch longer. (Note: my good health takes second place to the size of my ween.)

I lost my virginity my junior year, but I got blown two months after I turned 15 — the middle of my freshman year. This was February ’79, and her name was Diana, and I remember thinking how awesome her wet vagina felt wrapped around my middle finger while she sucked me off in the back seat of my dad’s ’75 Pontiac convertible after The Parada del Sol — a car I still own to this day.

Diana would come over to “help” me with my math, and I’d bring her into my room with my closet door open, cause I had a floor-to-ceiling mirror affixed to the back of that door, which was a very pervy way way to watch her blow me, cause usually she’d kinda rest her head on my stomach to do it, and that totally obstructed the view of my dick going in and out of her mouth. I can’t believe my parents would actually let that fly — closing the bedroom door while she was over, I mean.

Diana swallowed without question, every single time, which led me to believe every girl in the whole wide world behaved the same way.

I’d often play side 2 of Pink Floyd’s Animals when Diana came over to help me with math.

My math ended at Algebra 2, my junior year. I simply couldn’t do it. I did great with Geometry my sophomore year, though. Which makes sense. Cause if A = B, and B = C, then A has to equal C.

I still love Wilco; however, I’m on the hunt for a new favorite band to obsess over.

Yes, those are army-man PJ’s I’m wearing as I bury my face into the ass of a beautiful Porno Princess; her butt hole smelled as glorious as an Easter Sunday brunch. The Minion suggested she don The Panda Mask, and then he snapped the pic.

I want to see Captain America, but I’m not a big fan of super-hero movies. I did read a lot of comics growing up though, and Daredevil was my favorite, cause it made sense to me that no one would suspect a blind dude to be a super hero. Hulk was a close second.

Here’s an interesting article on porn piracy, which, as you know, I’ve talked about more than once in the past.

Here’s a list of all the musicians who have died at 27 — the “27 Club”.

Right now, as I wrap this post, my cleaning crew is about to start sanitizing my studio, which is the best money I spend on a regular basis; and my iTunes, perpetually set on “shuffle”, is serving up “Teen Age Riot” — another great song.

With this post, I’m 9 away from 1,000. Not that anyone’s paying attention. Except me.

Fucked Up’s “David Comes to Life”: First, I told some of my pals “David Comes to Life” is the best punk record of the last 30 years. Then, I corrected myself and tweeted that it was the best punk rock since the summer of ’84, when Zen Arcade, Double Nickels on the Dime, and Meat Puppets II came to life. So now I’ll just leave it as this: Fucked Up is one of the hardest of core punk rock bands I’ve had the pleasure to listen to, and “David Comes to Life” is their latest record — which was released last month — and it’s a masterpiece. It’s also a concept record, which means it tells a story, much like The Who did with Tommy (and Quadrophenia), Genesis (when they were good) did with The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Bowie did with Ziggy Stardust…, Pink Floyd did with The Wall, Zappa did with Joe’s Garage, blah blah blahblah blah blah. The band came up with an “amorphous” character named David, and after the band released some singles about David, they dropped the bomb that is this record. The record tells the story of a dude who’s stuck in a dead end job in a light bulb factory, and he meets his love, and then she dies…then I dunno what. Even though I’ve heard it non-stop since I got the record a few days ago, I’ve still only listened up to side 3.

Porn Star Screen Tests: Is it OK to like stuff I’ve done? Even though I totally ripped-off Andy Warhol? Maybe not. So, instead I’ll just say how much I love the various reactions these are receiving, from a “waste of time” to…no reaction at all. Porn Star Screen Test #1 — Kristina Rose — went mini-viral (someone in Spain liked it enough to spread the word) and it racked up 50,000+ views in a few days, of which 20 people “liked” it. 5 times as many people didn’t like it (almost 100), which means the other 49,000 others didn’t even bother to rate it. I have to call this a success. There’s 25 (or so) left to post, and I shot them all in the fall of ’09. I can’t wait to see what you guys think of the rest. Or don’t think about ’em.

Andy Warhol’s Soup Cans: Why not stop with the screen tests? For the first time since 1962, the complete set of Soup Cans is back in LA. Bet you didn’t know Andy’s first show was in LA. Bet you didn’t the show consisted of these 32 cans. You might know the art gallery across the street was so insulted with the show, they put 32 real soup cans in the window with some sort of snarky remark about being able to at least eat the soup in their window. Bet you didn’t know Dennis Hopper was one of the few who bought one…but the gallery owner felt it was best to sell all 32 as a set, so he had to call Hopper and ask for his back. Then he sold all 32 to another dealer for $1100 ($35 a piece). In 1995, that dealer sold them to the Museum of Modern Art in NYC for $15,000,000 ($468,750 a piece). And now they’re back! I’ve already gone to see them once. I’ll go a few more times.

Michael Lohan’s behavior on Celebrity Rehab: So in one of their first group meetings, Amy Fisher (now bookable through Shy Love’s agency!) boo-hoo’d about how rehab was “like prison”. Which set off Steven Adler, to the point where I almost listed his behavior here…until Michael Lohan went off. Wow, was he pissed! Lohan started in about how, at his prison, the inmates were so terrible they actually “drew pictures” of his wife and daughter with wieners in their mouths; which, to me, is standard middle-school behavior. Looking back at it now, I was one of those dudes who drew silly pics of girls blowing dick. In fact, if Lindsay Lohan was in my 8th grade English class, I woulda been the kid drawing Lindsay blowing a goat…but only after she turned me down for Friday Night’s dance. Anyway, retelling such a horrid story made Mr. Lohan run to the bathroom and barf. No…he didn’t barf. It was more like a Power Hurl. All over the place. Which is what I woulda hoped an 8th grade Lindsay woulda done when I handed her my picture…but we all know now an 8th grade girl can handle that sort of nonsense much better than Mr. Lohan did on what is my favorite vice of late: Celebrity Rehab.

Girlvert: A Porno Memoir — I first met Ashley Blue in the fall of 2002, at Dogfart’s secret Mansion, way up high in the hills of Malibu overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I didn’t shoot her until 2010, when she was the star of an Interracial BlowBang scene. In between, we’d run into each other every now and then….mostly when our porno circles came together. Which is to say hardly ever. I went to the book release party a few weeks ago, which was a hoot, but even better yet is Ashley’s book. Ori’s book. Whatever. It is the greatest thing a porno person has achieved with something outside of porn. Her book is better than all of her scenes put together, and if you guys like reading my blog, you’ll love Girlvert. I say that cause most of the people who like I Shoot Porn like it cause of the “insider’s look” on porn. The one thing I can never, ever do is nail what goes on inside the mind of a porno princess. Ashley Blue sure did. Girlvert should be required reading for each and every girl before she gets into this biz. If I was King of Porno, you’d have to pass a test on Girlvert before you were allowed to be booked for your first scene. But then again, if I was King of Porno, you wouldn’t be able to perform your first scene til you were 21. But that’s a different blog.