ENTRY #45
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 23, 2005

Fuck yes I'm back in the Lounge. So? I never left, I just closed the doors.

Tito here. I'm drinking single-malt 18-year Highland Park scotch and listening to Neil Diamond. 'Sweet Caroline'. Have you guys ever heard that song by ol' Neil called 'Cracklin' Rosie'? No? Yes? Well anyway, listen to the lyrics! The friggin' song is about wino wine. Like 'bum wine'. Night Train or Wild Irish Rose! He mentions hopping trains and he calls Cracklin' Rose, and I quote: "A storebought woman". That's so fucking sick. I love it. Why can't all women be storebought like Cracklin' Rose? Why, dammit?

So, you're probably NOT wondering where the hell I've been. I couldn't care less either way. I love you THAT much! In fact, I'm not sure I remember where the hell I've been since my last post. What was it? Two years ago? All I remember is some airplanes, some wine, and a skateboard or two. I do know that some cities involved. What the hell am I talking about?

My typing is impeccable, though. At least I have that.

And, I learned nollie 540's. Toot toot. No filmer, no cameras baby.

I, I, I, me, me, me. Is this a pattern on Crail? Fuck, run with it, I guess. Hemingway once said that you should only write about what you know about. Tito knows Tito. It's true.

Hey, check this out. I saw Skatefairy the other day and he had a mailing label on the bottom of his skateboard. I leaned in to read it when his board was flipped over and he was over there talking to someone. I forget. The mailing label read, 'I have a dream. Your big fat cock in my tight little asshole. Amen.'

I hollered over to the Skatefairy, "hey, Skatefairy, what the hell does this mean?"

He gave me a 'fuck you, Tito' look and resumed his conversation. Unsolved Mysteries abound in the Crail family!!!

So, what else? Not much. I'm renting, not owning, there more than here. Oh, I got an appointment to get Rolfed at 4 o'clock today. If you don't know what Rolfing is, too bad. Sucks for you. But the office I called told me to bring skateboard footage with me when I show up, so they can assess my mis-alignment issues. Issues is RIGHT. So, I'm gonna get Rolfed by a Rolfer. Supposedly it hurts like all hell, and grown men weep like bitches. I hope I weep. It's been too long. I need that emotional release. Being Tito isn't easy, folks. You gotta be a bad-ass 24-7. All night, too. Of course. This outer macho thing is just a front. I'm hiding a friendly tiger in here. You ever seen a drunk tiger? Their stripes fall off until they sober up. And that's not ALL that comes off, IF you know what I mean.

Well, shit. I need to take a shower. Go get the soundtrack to 'Trouble Man' by Marvin Gaye. Pretty damn awesome.

Go to www.goodforyou.ca and purchase some Aerobic Oxygen. You'll trip out. That's what I need to do when I start my website. Link up all these weird books and potions and where to get them, and make me some cash. I think Amazon.com does that if you link a product to their site. You get a sort of 'finder's fee'. I think. Someone told me that. Anyway, more later. And it won't be all about Tito. I just wanted to get you all up to speed on what I've been all about for the last however long. I don't know.




ENTRY #44
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 21, 2004

Holy cow. The sleep department has been disturbed. On one hand you've got Ty Evans, obvious. He works overtime all the time. That's called the "ty program". I've seen it firsthand. On the other hand, you've got Tito, and since he's been waiting for the Hot Chocolate video to select screen, he's had nothing to do (except drink scotch) and water the plants.

What happens when you wake up at four a.m., and you're getting business done by nine or ten and then noon rolls around? You dip into the scotch by noon. You're dusted easily by four or five p.m. and you feel nice and jolly and could lay your head down on catshit and sleep fine. You sleep a deep sleep, one of those all-nighters where you have those epic dreams that seem like days have gone by, vivid and colorful and interesting dreams. You wake up and it's 7:30 and you start to hit the coffee to start the day, and Grandma Tito comes into the kitchen to let you know that, yes, it's 7:30, but 7:30 at night, not morning. You've only been sleeping for an hour or so.

So, you hit the Glenfiddich 18-year bottle hard and take some pills to get through the interim, yet again, until this damn video hits the screen, and you wake up at 3:00 a.m. and try to play on the computer, fully awake after another lucid epic dream, praying for 7:00 a.m. to bring it's ass to you so you can start another day.

Ty, you're stressing me out. We must be linked on some other consciousness, but I can't see what you see on the computer screen. Sleep and drink, sleep and drink. Tito's trying to while away the days until the video screens in Hollywood, but the booze has disrupted the sleep cycles, and he's up at 3 or 4 in the morning, and by noon, it's bedtime, only to wake up when it's dark, thinking it's morning, fully rested and ready for a cup of joe, only to know the horror of twelve more hours left in the day.

Glen, take me back to slumberland. Ty is wrecking me softly.

Raymond, hang in there. Meet us where we should meet.

Ruth, call me back. Your boss has no idea about the importance of The Hot Chocolate Tour. Four jobs in one year. She'll let you off the hanger for one day to witness this madness. And you know you want to go . So call me.

Tappers, Tito has fruited the loop. Tony and Bob and Mark Scott may have corkscrewed it, but they never fruited the loop. That's a totally spiritual experience.

You ever been shit-hammered drunk, but still stone sober?

Ty, you're stressin' me out. The screen is moving. I'm sitting here and it's moving.

ENTRY #43
THURSDAY, JANUARY 15, 2004

Yes, skippin' D is done.

It's now DBO two thousand fo'.
If you don't know what DBO is, don't worry. It doesn't matter.

Love ya, Rick, Love ya, Spike. God willing, we'll all make it to The Lost Coast sometime soon.

Spain...

ENTRY #42
MONDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2003

Alright, it's a few days from CHRISTmas, and yours truly has been out of the Lounge for two days in a row. Sunday was a skate session. I had to Harry Houdini out of that one due to a stomach thing all this week. Tito had heartburn for five days in a row-- debilitating heartburn, my stomach felt like a bag of hot coals. Couldn't eat, couldn't drink, sleep, shit, sit, stand. I've been having some freaky dreams lately as well. Everything from the conscious world seems to slip into the subconscious and rearrange itself to make a little bizarre story behind the eyelids.

But like I was saying, I almost shit my pants. I wanted to puke or something, burp, whatever, but I just found my way home and went to bed.

Went out and about today to run some errands. I gave some lady the right of way in the parking lot where I got lunch, I stopped and let her cross--you know, chose not to run her over-- and the bitch frowns at me. She fucking frowned. It was a half-ass attempt at a 'whatever, thanks I guess' smile, and it came out as an out-and-out frown. Like an upside-down smile, literally. I wish I had taken a picture of her face. The perfect Holiday card. The sign of the times.

Got some boxes, and I'm boxing up some stuff. Gotta make those donations before the 31st. Tax write-offs, you know. Itemize, babe.

I'm just bored right now, so I'm blowing smoke. That lunch gave me the runs. Brown soup.

There's this movie about a girl who kidnaps this dude and takes him to her Grandmother's house and pretends that he's her wonderful boyfriend. The old lady is dying, and after dinner, they sit down at the piano and sing this song called The Bastard Song. It was pretty awesome. That's all I remember about the movie. The Bastard Song was hot, though.

2004, hurry up and get here. This has been a weird year.

Love the fans. Have a good time, New Year's and all that. Fall in love and tell me all about it. Spark it off.

ENTRY #41
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2003

Tap-weezy!

Happy whatever to you goons who still celebrate that trife-ass excuse for spreading Good Will.

And Peace On Earth?

'Peace Out' is more like it.

All you want is some stuff, and some more stuff. You probably bitch about your list of who to buy for and what to get them. Oh the dilemma.

Try being generous and goody-willing all year 'round for a change. Lighting up someone's life on a daily basis will more than make up for that sweater you decide not to get them. And if someone's pissed at you for buying nothing at all for anyone, they've missed the point entirely.

Santa Claus and Jesus Christ. How on Earth did those two get tangled up? Only on Earth would something like that happen. How far away is the planet Pluto? It would take more than the term of your natural life to get there by way of space shuttle. But it's still there, nonetheless. Why?

Hmmm....

Tito's no Scrooge. No bah-humbugs here, folks. I'd give you the shirt off my back any day of the week, just so I wouldn't have to do laundry. Generosity seems to mostly to always have an agenda. Indifference can not have one.
So what am I yapping about again?

Merry Christmas Tappers.
Celebrate it however you want, but go to the mall this weekend. Look around. Add up the Good Will at that shit factory.
I say just go buy a cake and have a rager for Jesus. I wouldn't advise 2033 candles, maybe just those candle numbers if you can figure out the exact year of His birth. It ain't 2003, I can tell you that much. But whatever you people do, have a good time. Make sure you have a good time. Drive safe, drink safe, throw some hugs out and bury the hatchet and all that.

Tito might watch A Charlie Brown Christmas. I love the 70's vibe of those old Charles Schultz cartoons. In a perfect world, our kids would still grow up on stuff like that, instead of the crazy stuff on these days. I've seen a cartoon on that had blatant homosexual references. BLATANT. But kids are oblivious. And the violence! Baby Tito hit me in the head with a sword the other day! Square in the forehead!

You know I beat his little ass, too for that one.

Actually, I don't harm the boy ever. I threw my lightsaber down and ran into the Lounge. There was a Tom&Jerry bump on my head that nearly popped my hat off. He couldn't stop laughing, and I blame the toons. Maybe he'll outgrow the guns and swords. I sure hope so. For my sake as much as his.

Holiday skate news:

Some rich lady paid a lot of money to a certain company to sponsor him. That was her Christmas gift to him. The gift that keeps on giving. And taking. Little Joe now has to have six video parts ready for the end of next year, and he's just learning kickflips and 5-0 grinds. "Thanks, mom."

Tito got another mysterious call the other day. This one was even more mysterious, because I was walking by a payphone on the street, and when it rang I picked it up. I expected something like, "Where's my money, ho'?!?"

or

"Who you with, Boo? Rat Bastard!"

I picked the phone up:
"Tito."
"What??? Who th--"
"Tito! Shut up and listen carefully. You got a Christmas bonus from us, commit these directions to memory. Tell no one anything. Go to the drop off point at XX:XX xx and the bonus will be taped to the underside of the chair that has that annoying wobble, the kind where you fold a napkin and shove it under the leg to keep it still. Shut up! Write more about XXXXXXX and the XXXXX XXXXX in your future columns. Merry Christmas, Tito."

And then the line clicked. I switched over:

"Luther! Bitch I know where you at!! What up on my money, bitch!! You know what the pen did to me!!! Muhfucka dat's yo ass!!!"

I hung the phone up. Crailtap Shadow Government, and some one who's pissed at Luther.

Me and Spike got a knife pulled on us after he bailed a three-sixty flip on Hollywood Blvd the other day. That was a big knife. Thanks for bailing on me Spikey.
Spike took off and I had to apologize to some big guys who had a big big knife. And right on the street in the middle of broad daylight with people everywhere.
If you want some Holiday Cheer, walk around Hollywood this season. LA will be the first to burn.

The Christmas bonus was thick.

Happy Holidays.

ENTRY #46
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2003

Just woke up. I've been sleeping on a sleeping bag in the living room lately. The master suite has plastic sheeting covering everything and there's drywall compound and dust everywhere. Getting things boxed up and getting rid of things that I've collected onto me for years. Tito used to be a pack rat. Saving things, even junk mail, because, you know, 'one day I might be able to use this'. It takes a long time to get over that habit. You end up finding the craziest stuff in corners and in boxes that you'd never use in ten lifetimes. Random pieces of wood, scraps of found paper and other found objects. "Yeah, I want to make a table out of this!" And you never do. Well I don't.

Tito's going for the Zen Buddhist Lounge these days. It was hard to part with some old paintings, but they had to go. As you get older, you seem to look at old things you did, old habits, etc, and sort of turn away from them. Old paintings aren't rad anymore, you see where you could've done this or that differently. Had some fun with spraypaint on those things before the garbage guys drove the truck down the street this week. Tax deductible donations on old shirts and shoes and that toaster oven and those six sets of CD player speakers, and that weird lamp that was never taken out of the box and assembled. Chicken wire, an old barbecue thing. I'm sure there's Dr. Suess book about that, giving away your wocket and snooch, your voo, a rocket and that orange little pooch.

Tito tried going on one of those date.com sites. There's so many. And there's so many ladies on there.
"I'm sweet and love to cook, but I've got a spontaneous wild side"
"I'm an independent woman who loves to cook and I'm sweet and shy"
"I'm a little angel, I'm independent, love to cook, and love doing anything new"
"Sweet girl looking for guy to cook for. Love going to art shows or just staying in by the fire. I'm shy but sassy"
"Independent woman seeks outgoing man to take walks with and eat her cooking"
"I love sports, do you?"
"Nevermind these gang tattoos. I'm sweet and sassy! Love watching TV and going to clubs"
"Independent, gang-related sweetheart wants to cook for you in your lowrider with the stove in the back, loves to go out dancing, be independent, get a little crazy :) and just be a shy, sweet little angel for my man. I have a lot of kids."

So that didn't work. Some one had Pink Floyd lyrics next to her photo. One lady was obsessed with cats, one looked like she'd just gotten out of prison for something really really bad.

I created one of those things when I first got a computer, and I typed this:

"Single man seeks woman for drinking companion. Must not cook, must be able to hold her liquor, and be able to take a punch like a man once in awhile. "

Just to see what would happen. My screen name was Stepfather.

Got no replies on that. Really good thing, too. It's hard to take that stuff seriously. Some of those photos were so bad that they were good. In a "HOLY SHIT! You'd have to be a serial killer seeking same to reply to that one!" sort of way.

Tons of boxes marked: PANDORAS
They should change the name of some of those sites to Don'tbother.com.

The Girl/Chocolate Christmas party was a good time. Tito got pretty drunk, but not like last year. The last I saw of Ty was when he was flicking matches into the air and trying to catch them in his mouth on Hollywood Blvd. Steph 'didn't know that guy'. This was right before Rick was telling everyone, out the window, that "YOUR CAMO SUCKS!". We ended up at some club and that was madness. Sheer madness. Rick Fox asked me if he could buy me a drink. Tito declined. York told me that Rick Fox was a Laker. That didn't change the fact that I had a full glass. No need to squander the man's money. Tito and the Ringer posted up on a couch and just watched. It was like a reality show. People are into that scene. I mean some people really really like going out to clubs and whatnot. I was stoked on the lights in the club. I don't have lights at the Lounge, and I'd almost forgetten what it was like to be able to see after dark without the use of a flashlight.

I can't remember too much after that. Tito woke up at Spike's house and for a second there, couldn't for the life of me figure out where in the hell I was. BOOM! There's pool, Boom! There's downtown LA, Boom! There's box of Twinkies!
I wandered around in a stupor for about 30 minutes ate a Twinkie and hopped in a taxi back to my car. Rick said that my whole face looked like it had been soaked in wine.

Keeping it mellow after that. I got a 12:15 with Spike. So Racquetball today.

Question of the day?
If you have a gold-plated racket and iced out balls, are you then a RacquetBaller?
Stupid. Louis Vuitton track suit, Gucci shorts, Marc Jacobs court shoes. And Spike will still win.
Maybe I can get some free lunch off the guy.

Where is Rick Raymond.

ENTRY #45
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2003

I just got a pizza delivered. The girl who delivered it was pretty cute, much too young for me, and was driving a black pick-up truck that was about four feet off the ground. Something you'd see in Huntington Beach. Her boyfriend is probably a white-power surfer nazi guy. I could be wrong about that, but who cares either way? Holy tires. She could've driven over houses to get that pizza to me. And she was coughing. Everyone is coughing these days. I'm telling you, Mother Nature is taking care of all the excess these days. Flu outbreak, diseases popping up everywhere. That's what happens when you chop down the rainforests and get rid of everything that potentially can help bring about cures to humanity's physical ailments. The mental ailments are beyond repair. They're just 'normal personality traits' nowadays. I for one hope that Mother Nature wipes us all out. Payback is long overdue.

When I go out, I'll be smoking a cigarette, drinking a bottle of something or another, and screaming to Ol' Lady Nature "It's about time, baby!"

In skate news, the foreigners are controlling the U.S. skate market. The influx of foreign people who moved here to outdo the Americans has taken its toll. They're better skaters, they're ruthless and cutthroat businessmen, and although they think we suck, they're here in the mix, surrounded by their enemies, with only one goal in mind: Outdo the Americans.
Well, let them have skateboarding. We gave it to them, showed them what tricks to do, all that. If that's what they live for, let them have have their cake and eat it too. I hope they fucking choke.
All the rest of everyone else is just still sidewalk surfing, having a good time, and letting the bastards burn themselves out with all that stress induced by trying so hard to be better than everyone else.

I'll be at the beach if you should need me.

Brad Staba has a new Ruby board coming out soon. You'll be able to snail-mail all your friends and let them know about it when it does come out. Who likes getting postcards in the mail?
If you want to check it out, e-mail Ruby herself. She'll give you more info.
Hot, limited edition. All that good stuff.

Tito's finally dumping the lounge. Doors are officially closed and real estate people have been called in to get the place ready for the market. The new lounge will be open sometime next year and possibly located high in the mountains and snowed-in for days at a time. Tito is looking for a ladyfriend to re-spark that feeling of a reason to keep living. The hermit phase is over. Party-time Tito is coming soon, in full-effect.

E-mail Sanger, ladies only. Enlightened, self-motivated ladies only need apply.

See you at the Christmas Party. If you're special, you might get the shit slapped out of you.

Just kidding. Ha Ha.

Rick Raymond where you at? And what's up to Rob Welsh. Hang in there, babe. We love ya.

ENTRY #44
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2003

Clive is a dimwit. Notice how there was no entry yesterday, though he gave you a link to The Lounge? Yep, dude's got other things cooking in his pot.

I just got back from Mexico. Not Tijuana, or Rosarito, or Cabo Wabo. No Sammy Hagar sightings. Just went down to Mexico to check out this mail-order bride thing they got going down there. I got a catalog from a buddy of mine, and I am a single LaRue, so I decided to go and check out some of the ladies in person. I don't like these cheap broads they keep spitting out of the machine here in Southern California. It turned out that I didn't like any of the ladies in Mexico, either. Couldn't understand much of what was being said most of the time, so I figured it wouldn't work. But it was a nice drive and I shot some photographs with these single-use Kodak cameras that I picked up at Wal-Mart in Las Cruces, New Mexico. That was a Super Wal-Mart. There was a grocery store inside. So basically, you could live nearby, work at AND shop at Super Wal-Mart. Everything a human needs, even automotive repairs, under one roof. You could turn into the mindless dolt that our beloved XXXXXXXXXX has wanted you to be for over 50 years. You'd buy what you are told to buy, like music that you are told to like, read all the fabulous literature from the Wal-Mart bookseller, and plan hearty meals from the aisles of your Wal-Mart grocer. And, when you don't have enough time to make dinner for the kids, you can take 'em to Wal-Mart where there is a McDonalds, a Taco Bell, a Pizza Hut, and a big big candy aisle and a whole soda aisle filled with shelf upon shelf of bottled brand name drinks.

I picked up some of the best disposable cameras money can buy and shot photos of stuff. A tanker overturned on part of my drive back through the southwest and there a was a fire that burned both sides of the freeway and traffic was stopped dead still for over an hour. Someone suggested a tailgate party, people were milling around outside their cars, I saw a little girl squat and pee between two car doors. She peed right onto the freeway. All you could see was two little feet and a stream of pee. People were walking their dogs. I did not shoot photos of the accident that had traffic stopped. The fire was out by the time I drove by, but holy shit, everything on both sides of the road was burnt to shit, and there was this red powder everywhere. Piles of the stuff. I drove on.

Read a biography of Edgar Cayce during the trip. Do yourself a favor: Read about Edgar Cayce. That's all I will say. You'll be fucking shocked, but relieved about the source of The Work. Go now to the bookstore and fill your mind with knowledge. Quit wasting your life at the club or bar or at some job that you hate. Quit and go back to school and have the government pay for it. That's a job in itself with free health insurance. And if you don't feel like learning, have a good one scooping fries for the golden arches or kissing someone's ass somewhere else you'll bitch about day in and day out.

School is everywhere, always. Not just in a building. But you have to learn how to learn.

And take off those damn tight pants. Two years ago you were wearing puffy swishy pants and had your hat on crooked. Sorry, too much wine last night. I got this bottle of mineral salts that you pour into your bathwater after a night of what the label calls 'over-indulgences'. Yeah, that's right.

See you guys tomorrow. I gotta go jogging or something.

Oh, and if you've read this and are offended by the 'cheap southern California broad' bit, tough shit. If you are offended, it probably means you are one. The guys are little Ken dolls as well, mostly. Wearing the clothes right out of the box. Ken and Barbie. Made to order. This is not everyone, of course. You know it's not you. I think I'm still drunk.

ENTRY #43
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2003

Tito Tito Tito.

What are we going to do today with our little space for words?

Nothing. We're going to wait until tomorrow.

ENTRY #42
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 2003

TGIT!

Monday is always a bummer, so Thank Goodness It's TUESDAY!

Now that the landscaping in the backyard is officially finished, Tito is at a loss for what to do next. Preliminary ideas include a spiral staircase leading out from the loft, down to the back yard. You can buy spiral staircase kits online. The guest house has to be constructed, but Tito's chillin' on that one for a bit. Uncle Sam is calling. He's got one hand in my wallet, and the other You Know Where. Personally, I think that if we, collectively as a nation, refuse to pay taxes all at the same time, the government won't be able to do anything about it. What, are they gonna put ALL of us in jail? At the same time? I mean, shit, everyone pays taxes, and the country still owes itself nine trillion dollars. How do we owe OURSELVES 9,000,000,000 dollars???
You know where our tax money goes, right? If you don't, find out. You'll be so stoked.

Onto skate-relevant topics...

Someone did some damn trick and someone else photographed it and filmed it. That's all that needs to be said about that. Some fun was had somewhere, but it wasn't within ten miles of a camera, that you can be sure of.

Tito bought the new Osiris video tonight at a shady skateshop near the Lounge. It cost 30 dollars.
I only have three words for it: Jerry And Louie.
They skate to one of the best songs ever in a video. Age Of Consent by New Order. I love that song.

Other than that, the weekend was mellow. I finally learned kickflip backlips on rails, and I ollied a huge set of stairs. So many, that I couldn't count that high. It's less that 9 Trillion, though. I wore tight black jeans, I spray-painted my shoes, and wore my Boston Celtics jersey with one of my gold chains and I had a trucker hat on backwards, but sort of crooked. And, I sagged my skin-tight black jeans. I had a chaw of marijuana tucked in my lip and I spat a chaw out every time I tried a trick.

Did I mention that the jersey was long-sleeve, and made of dirty flannel?

I got another skate mag today. It's a hot new issue. Good thing, because I ran out of TP earlier this afternoon.

There was an art show this weekend. No one said a word to anyone else. They dressed up and just waddled around, nodding at each other. No one bought anything, but they ate and drank whatever they could get their hands on.

I watched Stand By Me on Sunday morning. Tito has cable in the back room, and every once in awhile, he'll plug the TV in and turn it on.

"Nope. Just you, Ace."

Check out the Crailshop.

ENTRY #41
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2003

TITO'S SKATE ART #7!

Well TGIF. Maybe there's best trick contest somewhere this weekend. There has to be one somewhere.

Not a damn thing to report today. No one calls me and I rarely leave the Lounge. I could re-hash some internet crap that I read, but you can read it for yourself. The skate mags don't have anything interesting to say, and things are generally slow everywhere. If I were you, I'd head to the bookstore or to the movie theater tonight. I was invited to go dancing at a bar in LA tonight, but I said, "Hell no I'm not going to some damn bar. I live in a damn bar, why would I drive to another one to dance with you?"

There's a Stereo art show tonight in downtown LA. You can only go if you're invited. You'd know if you were invited. I'm getting a massage later. Ten bucks says Amber talks about her daughters. I'm just going to tune it all out and close my eyes. For one, the massage hurts, and two, I might get a boner. I did get a boner once a long time ago during a massage. Embarrassing is not the word for when that happens.
These aren't rub-n-tugs, these are legit sports therapy massages. Tito doesn't do rub-n-tug.

Have a good weekend, tappers. Shred it up, and make sure you get it all on video.

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shampooplayboy@crailtap.com