Category: Uncategorized

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1

All I really wanted & craved simply was the hit of nicotine smoke somewhere nice & grunge minded & minimalist, as the rain on the balcony outside laps softly, brushing against my skin… puttering

— music so kindly pouring in with tonalities that verged on feeling like pure euphoria, atmospherically sending electricity waves throughout the entire body — head to toe, surging through the wrist, fingers pressed tightly in the clutch of a cigarette… coming to caressing, polite lips, taking in slightly shy incandescent drags, passing along to someone a little rough along the edges who wanted to bum one…

…meditatively escaping the current numbed state most drifted away in melancholically, rather up & into an evasively fresh realm of thought, mind state & mentality… as well as to scopes of galaxies within & without; people unknowingly, to many besides you, capably holding entire universes within, their deepest fear not their inadequacy… but the power they held within themselves that was powerful beyond measure.

Enlightened beings forge perfect little optimistic trails through seemingly uncrossable stone to new worlds, galaxies & universes designed with architecture premised on brand new thoughts & coping mechanisms, revolving around meditatively decompressing & releasing — slowly absorbing fully & letting go of — all thoughts, pretenses & pressure points on this natural earth we inherited, so we may instead float up to a Heavenly Third Eye Kingdom

— soft swift plunge & light ascent away —

 into a domain lying at the heart of the depth of our connectedness to focus… how we focus & gather consciousness, of which we must pivot adrift & channel underlying wave frequencies adept at transferring knowledge, only attainable to the one who is gifted in the art of being a purely & energetically welcoming light, shining & emitting a signal from currents electrically raging through the galaxy, communicating with nature’s wisdom thug & infinite universal dealer, simply finding the connect between wall & cord.

So too, we are meant to shine as lights late at night, to help guide others.

But first, we must know ourselves deeply, as well as intimately enough, to know just where our inner circuits & wires beam, radiating endless energies throughout, flowing within our vibrational bodily shells inwards & outwards into, metaphorically, the gratefully accepting outlet, plugging our needs in knowledge & wisdom, communicated via the outlets

— Earth, Mother Nature, the Universe & Galaxies —

to us lowly Earthly Creatures, as we distance ourselves from low level stillness… instead beaming as one with everything. In this span, one could’ve simply, casually, oh so meditatively & nonchalantly been focusing on their breath, inhaling & exhaling amidst any background setting 

— chaotically tinged or amidst semblances of peace —

as one lets go of vague worry, embracing & accepting the great Tao of everything in the eminent line of sight, touch or feel & takes in any & all occasions, sometimes excusing oneself as a matter of politeness to quickly & most deliberately sip some Japanese Tea or steaming hot drip coffee or something iced while pairing this reflective sipping with the quirks & gestures of raising & flicking wrists, repetitively bringing to mind & from mind…

…inhaling & exhaling, as one smokes what seems, to a young bodhisattva like myself, rather reminiscent of how one may very well envision afterlife ecstasy feeling… more distinctly, ecstasy within the afterlife…

…as in death, we find life & so it goes… infinitely onward, as the living must simply keep living to the best of their energy state capacities & levels so that — one day, in all due time — we all may find what we so seek:

the ever Elusive Nirvana & the opportunity to experience sublime pleasures of ecstasy in forever’s afterlife.

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2

I’m lost in cathartic noise, buzzing, falling beside me on my sleeve… the fuzzy, warm thoughts — warmest feelings, brightest synergy.

First of all, practice mindfulness… after coffee — take a break, a refrain & repose from the hustle & bustle. Our culture speeds by too rampantly for us to process. To really engage, you must be idle.

Once idle — dwelling on the spontaneity & the impulsivity of everything from a slump — you come out of the cave & brush the leaves out of the way & a subtle clearance so that you may wake… awakening to light & a brand new day.

For me, there’s nothing left to do, except write… to each his own. If I was a music artist, I’d make music.

But I’m a writer… so I write. I used to make music a few years ago, though, too — I play guitar & used to produce & make my own beats (who knows… maybe I’ll start making music again).

At the end of the day, I’m an artist… so I make art. Whoever you are is what you almost always find yourself doing.

I’ll always want to write, produce, draw & who knows… maybe make some indie skate film with an old camcorder — things along those lines. Do whatever you’re good at often enough & you’ll find a way to profit off of the venture.

Engage in — releasing output & absorbing input — what you love the most.

I read something — this or that, here & there — then I write to the noise of any kind of often melodic, bass-drenched, beat-heavy & lush-sounding tune on infinite rotation in my headphones… everything from low key & demo acoustic, to a little more hype & rave energy, to shoe gaze & grunge to punk & indie, to hip hop & country ones.

The music is all there — background noise & something to drain out all of the static… sure, I smoke from time to time, drags off of a cigarette about once every hour… yeah, the coffee remains ever flowing (going to get a cup probably here in a bit — always on my way to brew up something… brewing up some more poetry here now).

Vices act as a crutch to fuel the writing: the little mechanisms, hand quirks, slow sips, ways to catch thought, breath & being. In a reflective way — contemplating this all — I look around, sigh deeply & write… I look around, sigh deeply, & sip… I look around, sigh deeply & smoke.

I stay consistently writing, contemplating & deeply — always deeply & reflectively — meditating on words & inhales & exhales, over & over again & again, always seeing where the pages linger, always trailing steam rising above my mug, always following the smoke lingering. The nature settles in sunlight behind the fog. I settle as the writer who doesn’t care. I mean, I do care… I’m just relatively bored.

So I try to make sense of & clarify thoughts by placing words on paper, going out for a smoke, throwing on some mix of songs by an artist I’m into, setting aside time to read fiction & poetry & whatever strikes a chord & making another pot of coffee & sipping some tea — the decompression, awareness of thoughts & adjustment of chemical balance.

Clarity comes & stays & drifts & flows. These ebbs & flows make us human. The world around us shifts in nature.

The universe sees how we put out efforts — to gain mindfulness, awareness & clarity — so, surely enough, the universe bestows upon us a blessing. Curses turn into lessons & then remedies.

Remedies turn into skill sets & then bliss. Bliss turns into conscious expansiveness.

Consciousness, once tapped into, becomes gently soothed so that we may say hello kindly to the unfolding day, not hide away & avoid. Instead, we put out our arms, tip our cap & bow to the worldly presence as the worldly presence bows to us. We see the purely divine in each other.

As we accept our own faults & scars, we can also see what enlivens the light within our soul — the light itself a cure. The scars fade & disappear… healed. Faults are forgivable, but first we must forgive ourselves… our unique liberation allows us to move ever so freely & creatively.

As we show our most genuine truth — acting according to self realization peaks — we begin to know ourselves & thus humbly exist. We don’t seek some approval or kindness… Simply, we love with & move in kindness because we walk within core dispositions.

At the end of the day… when in light, we are kind, hesitant to boast… sincere; we speak little, but step with a cool hop — the energy, not from external attitudes.

The lightness & glow & ease of shine stems from something way more internal. We throw on a nice outfit… comfortable.

We look good so we feel good & vice versa. We come up on a new pack & iced coffee to face the day. Sometimes we are apprehensive. Sometimes feelings arrive & dissipate. Sometimes all we feel is jarring burden.

We feel weighed down & so too, feel that our weight bothers others. Whether we know it or not, we rarely have any ability to predict weighted days & we can’t predict the light ones. Sometimes we make people’s days, but do not remotely even mean to.

Sometimes we ruin people’s days, but do not remotely even mean to. All you have to remember, is to seek light… kind of how nicotine can only be felt when it is brought to light — stoked in a way, or vaporized, so that chemicals release.

So too, we must burn the fuse properly within our own energetic compartments by doing what we love, with a clear mind & head on our shoulders, so to speak — with nothing but love & gentleness at the forefront of our mind, peacefully pursuing both needs & creative hobbies with equal interest, intent & curiosity.

Conscientiously engaged & absorbed, our minds find the match, stimulating our minds & loosely positively surging in radiant waves & pulses throughout. We light the natural chemical to find release.

We light up, feel & engage with the feelings, letting go, coming back to, connecting to ourselves & the ground beneath & the stars above. We find a tapped into universal wave state.

If we’re able to feel universal wavelengths & then decompress — allowing us to settle — we can achieve what some only achieve by sipping tea & coffee, or smoking… the fiend’s essence, however, is tied down.

But if we can spark this natural energy & light the dark spots — often creative portals — we can harness all that is tangibly bright & then even intangible matter will find a unique way to liven up in body & soul. All of our being will see the inevitable day as something to be so truly grateful for… because our minds & soul will be clear.

Our body will be one with energetic bliss. We will be both cozy & ready to engage. The world poses something & we solve. Nobody abandons us… even though they often go away, the universe is always right there as a willing listener & a genius light source, giving us what we need, momentarily.

We find within ourselves an inherent gem. Self care & self love flows externally as we let ourselves glow within… shining. Others see us, channeling our frequency & our light meets them at first glance.

Rather than make an impression, unfairly, they can’t help but return their light.

The universe may actually be more fair, in the most impartial way, than we thought. We just have to unleash the light within. We just have to find a metaphorical match to light a natural fuse within our beings — our essence the stimulant… properly lit.

As we find what fuels energies within us, we can always find release. We smoke so much & drink so much, but maybe we just had to spark & replenish potential potencies in more pure ways.

Here’s a match, go find & unleash the soothing inner warmth & natural chills & worldly highs & insightful lows. We only need to bask in self love… aware. As we kindly regard ourselves, we glow.

The match I gave you is truly solely yours alone to refuel maximum capacity to kindly approach everything — from yourself to others to daily tasks. All of the meditative aspects just give way to a way of freely focusing with clarity on all that is around us & within us. Sometimes there’s a comfort in energy. We face the day & our mood brightens.

Nothing can stop us because, in the end, we hold galaxies within us — flowing with the currency of the current… like the rivers — intricately connected with wavelengths as they come & go in the universe: one mindful & clearly focused mind state.

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3

Eternally bathed in gray, tattered, frayed;

sedated, splat, forever strayed, half jaded;

sedated daze, infinite day, low light shade;

blissful tea haze, steeped seep, it steams;

coffee, wet water, press, drip drop, dream;

pockets packed with snug packs stashed;

smoke plume, ever lit hues, stark contrast;

nightly lilac craves endless ethereal racks;

spliff tinted backwoods, zips, cash stacks;

tape deck, neck tat, sex & checks cashed;

dejectedly flitting & grasping hair strands;

gentle care, aware, stupidly there, so rare;

ambient effervescence, slate mist castles;

sunk, fluttered states, moonlit reefer owls;

arched punk gates, zone bliss stone fields;

astonished, quick withdrawal out of sight;

aura highlights flight over skeptic heights;

nearby drags on the low & thrasher lowlife;

solitude draped, partly twilight’s white flag;

subtly high off girls, the vans a soft brag;

such an endless drag, sad lag, slouch sag;

still dressed in the best, yet so depressed;

witch craft, spells cast whip up a sick hex;

still high off girls wearing vans, the checks;

up to our necks, nothing left, nothing less…

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4

So bones pick against the glacier adrift. My sheath won’t break through the stone. Grinding, gears shift on sleet plywood. Where were we… this elemental warehouse?

Fundamental matter grasps cotton thread. Caressing essence of the plain white tee picks at filter denim thrown about knees, scuffed to the touch — a feel of currency.

Soaked water off of foundations seeps into cracks… How does ice melt to seep… settling deep within the internal Earthly seams?

Closing, ice dissipates then freezes again. From dust we are born & to ash we return.

Maybe Hell & Heaven is in coexistence:

Frozen Heat, Warm Ice, Beautiful Balance.

I light the smoke, envisioning my death, lit up & smoked by kings on thrones — one last smoke before the harvest… my bones crumpled down to nothingness & only bits of a Whitman hinted grassy knoll

— leaves of grass & our skin the same, each new skin layer a blade of grass:

the sheet, the paper, the tree, the breath; the skin, the salt, the earth, the plant… So too, surely we reincarnate to another, in a world of overtly natural disintegration, to bone rot & decay to full crush — ash of our bones rising misty eyed above & our skin, laundry returning to the Earth & our soul released by God to angelic overtones (maybe one day to be smoked potently…) as we smoke the smoke that smoked.

We feel like a cigarette in full drag, released by & from our being: the essential existence as ghostly form… maybe we exist in meta galaxies as a plant amidst a larger realm & outer universe.

Surely then, someone could roll up the plant we exist equally as, smoking us wholly up.

We are nothing but littered plant shells.

Who knows if our being turns to plant… maybe we are already a peaceful plant in the whole scope of universal theory — plant matter, not ash & dust… reality is only reality, all at once, all at the same fateful time. We live to die, but death just awakens us.

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5

we only live .000000000001% of this whole thing, much much less than that, in the span of the timeline of all universal existence.

the other 99.999999999999% of the time, we live within the pure euphoria of Afterlife.

our body may rot, the disintegration of shell, in & out our graveyard coffins, or we may cremate into ash, but our soul will dissipate in a brand new form in a whole another similar realm. we never really die — feeling destroyed… crumpled like that extra soft worn paper. on Earth, we are secretly dead & in Hell. we’re already dead. when you die, you awake.

no longer in Hell, you realize you’ve been dead a long time.

maybe it’s been Hell anyways, God’s way or the highway… which way? that way.

please shine a light on the whole thing & police shine a light through the tinted windows of these petty thief reefer thugs.

but then it’s just the security guard at the bar… what happened to getting by & being one of the cooler guys around?

guess this world broke me, the women & jobs, the waiting room of it all… i’m dependent upon my family and this organization or that paycheck or disability from the government & the cigarettes flowing in, the income only leading to the day figured out; jot it out in your checking book, nothing working out.

tired, the gloom of not walking out like a high class citizen on the street with all of the strolling freedoms in the world — to move & smoke & sip this and that to the music of it all… it’s all we ever needed.

dear Lord,

save me from dying under a white hot sun… you know, i need the bright side & the bad side as well. always just enough dark to see.

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6

Let the flow state slow to a likely zone. Hold the frequency & freeze at middle end, end around & see how things turn out… Round & round, hovering at center — point within a point… the absolute core.

The fire pulls against leaves upstream as if it rips plant to blaze on to cusp all within filter paper, pre rolled class A… ash stumbling into custom ash tray, minds circling, drifting, returning — constant fall to peak to fall to peak… like autumn leaves swaying in wind.

They go back and forth, detaching… no longer feeling connected to tree & only feeling at rest once they touch down.

First, however, they float to the ground. They don’t slam down, they first float.

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7

Merciless, scathing contentment… we surely must be happy enough just to be here… sounds flood in. I feel like I’m in an amphitheater.

Then the song just ends in a blur… onto a little more harmonious syncing. It all seems to be space within space. Cigarettes bestow time within time.

As you smoke them, you beg a few hours to be docked later off life at some point so that you can dose yourself a bit with a few head high inducing puffs at the current moment… lagging & sedated, deeply breathing in intoxicating nicotine & breathing out short lived relief.

It’s the ADHD in most of us that turns the experience into a mellow euphoria.

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8

Sometimes you reach Nirvana. Sometimes you don’t know where to even contemplate beginning. Sometimes I guess you passed it, not fully aware you went too far.

But always, always, you can pivot, shift direction & realign once again with the elusive, fleeing & freely engaging state referred to as

Nirvana…

sublime oneness & a type of ecstasy, in relation to overall being, relative to all that matters in this universe — everyone & everything: one mutual, together, wholeness… a way to attain zen bliss realities.

Dead batteries, suicide boys & the baddest girls just seemed like a pressing topic I’d at some point need to address, either today or tomorrow or a year from now… or never.

Over here, I’m chain smoking whatever I could get, whenever at all possible — I’ll always find a way to stay chain smoking, whether I’m homeless or housed.

I’m reading a novel called Women by Bukowski. We both aren’t the best looking, but each of us has our ways & certain wisdom as pertaining to the opposite sex, the more divine one.

Damn, Bukowski always makes me laugh. Women & all of the girls in general always seem to put a smile on my face. They literally make the world go around.

Because, frankly, men are lazy & pathetic… even more so when they don’t have women around. But damn, men aren’t all bad.

Guess most of us are just simple minded. Hell, women sure do often complicate things… the whole process.

We try to impress each other, while acting like we’re not all that interested. It all seems like such a lousy way to live life… like we’re above it all?

Sometimes you got to be. Well, most of us have moved on from all of that crying-over-someone-you-love & fake-empathetic-sympathizing-and-nice bullshit. It’s played out.

Be cooler than that. I regret admitting it, but I’ve kind of turned into a so-called ‘playa’.

So my main three rules to the game are: playas gonna play; don’t hate the player, hate the game; and never get hung up on one girl (I used to do that… trust me, a miss only leads to a better next swing & there’s way more than just that girl down the block… there’s thousands, if not millions more, and girls like playing the game as much as the guys do, so it doesn’t hurt to play as much as you want, no matter how many losses you’ve racked up).

In the meantime, let’s be honest, I pretty much am up to nothing or jerking off as a matter of pure boredom or again up to nothing & could really care less about anything worth a damn besides maybe my writing & task of smoking 40 cigarettes & listening to the same songs everyday.

Really, my agenda 24/7 is: to smoke too many cigarettes, drink lots of coffee, read from time to time, write when the timing feels right, sometimes watch Narcos on Netflix or the saga about Wu Tang on Hulu & exclusively listen to Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep.

It’s a pretty good life. A lot could be said, though, about the fact that my last two book purchases were Naked Lunch (…by Burroughs about narcotics, filled with dark humor, witty banter & satire) & Bukowski’s Women.

Some fiend for dope & drugs in the slums & cities; some of the same people & others also fiend for women & sex.

Fuck love, really, but lots of us — on some base, animalistic & lustful level — crave sex… on an almost similar level, we crave women around us. Drugs go hand in hand, or sometimes offer a replacement to sex & women.

Lastly, really I’m chain smoking & simply binge listening to cloud rap lately simply due to (straight to the nitty gritty): my lack of success with both life in general & really attracting the perfect kind of girl.

Life & girls (which one is more important?) seem more & more hopeless as the years go by… the two ways I found of coping with inevitable lifelong heartbreak & becoming a deadbeat kind of guy — just like my dad (due to constant obstacles) — is through the relieving pick me up & sedation of nicotine in the form of a cigarette (I prefer natural tobacco over vapes… something about the high hits differently, almost rawer with cigarettes) as well as the equally relieving pick me up & sedation of music, more specifically cloud rap — even more specifically, Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep, who all feature better beats & flows than most artists these days.

I’ve heard just about enough Country & Indie & Jazz & Electronic, to be honest. All of that sappy shit grinds at & hurts my ears… even when it’s not sappy, rather almost endearing or heart aching, it still somehow seems so inauthentic & lacking in ingenuity.

I’d argue & say, instead, branching away from most mainstream music in today’s age, that the three artists I’m heavily rotating lately — Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep — are hands down the best hip hop artists & maybe artists in any genre.

This whole emo trap cloud rap trend started back in 2015, as three of them began trends, a whole new .wav & started coming up in their own way: Bones (rapper for TeamSesh: a collective of sorts that started up with producers like Cat Soup & Drew The Architect) & $uicideboy$ (two cousins who decided to either make it as artists in the music industry or kill themselves if all failed… a little pact Scrim & Ruby had) & Lil Peep (lead artist in Goth Boi Clique who was one of the dopest new emo kids in the game at the time & started a certain trend to the ‘crybaby’ & ‘sadboiszn’ type shit early on, singing about drugs & girls without caring whether it was cool or not to focus so much on the two like his life itself depended on both the drugs & girls… and it really did because it was found out that he had passed away in 2017 in November after 2 girls gave him Xanax laced in fentanyl before he went back on the tour bus)… They got the ball rolling.

The initial three artists in their respective groups came up, made a scene & switched up the game.

Although it seems almost cult-like or morose to listen to these kinds of artists — like Bones or $B or Lil Peep, who waver towards ideas of death & some darker themes — listening to them still brings on so much high energy in the intake of their potent sounds that conceivably anyone could become a captivated listener.

Every album of each of theirs carries heavy weight, with a remarkable amount of blunt truth found in all of their lyrics & well mixed soothing instrumentation that balances grimy & lush elements, incorporating everything from Memphis Drill, Long Beach Emo, New Orleans Trap & Detroit Boom-Bap influences to incredibly intricate mixtures of powerful 808s & aesthetic synthesizer melodies.

They also include splashes of humorous or candid or revealing little clips & skits & ad-libs thrown in at the intro or outro of some songs, or as stand-alone tracks.

No song by Bones & $uicideboy$ & Lil Peep is the same (as these artists switch things up here & there), but one can grow accustomed to a similar vibe on each of the artists’ tracks: music to smoke to that helps make sense of the idea of death & cope with the fact that most things in life are detrimental (we only really need, or should gravitate towards, a few more beneficial things).

pointless calls on a Nokia flip phone in 2004

i used to tug at my mom’s sweater sleeves when I felt a sense of fear towards God & those trying to rob me of everything I love & hold closely dear in my heart… so equally weak in its wishful tenderness & as strong as my ability to meditate on the miracle of existence & experience, reflecting with deep breaths, awareness of safe spaces & comfort zones — only smoking cigarettes when the time feels like it is slowly diminishing the spark in my soul, a way to light the way in the darkness & dwell on everything with gratitude & come back to self… once close to home & in my heart & head, I can finally escape from the tortures & torments of perception. Only what we perceive & focus on — either muddled in confusion or fully embraced with clarity — has any kind of bullheaded control of our fate… as I step aside to avoid experiencing exposure to a type of self imposed opposition by any task force member against one’s self, seeking to beam me up & extinguish the light within.

i don’t like the way you attempt to corrode my thoughts & invade my space kind sir…

c’est la vie monsieur, he replies…

je ne sais pas… ça va?

ça va, c’est la vie.

now, this emphatic man comes up to me — not even remotely sympathetically sensitive to the vulnerabilities of mental disabilities & trauma — & soon interrogates me about the thoughts that intrusively gnaw at the back of my head… thoughts that aren’t my own

he wants me to head some bad place far away with him & before i could hardly refuse, he’s whisking me off for no reason to somewhere I don’t want to go & had no intention of going to whatsoever.

This is all a search & rescue, but instead of rescue, it’s a search & abandon & abuse. I’m sensitive to people in positions of power taking advantage of the less fortunate.

the mind control by the current day & age’s government & law enforcement is at times relentless & uncomfortably unbearable & by no means should I subject myself to a subduing of sorts of my actually so wholeheartedly genuine & gently kind soul, as well as to a practice of data mining, manipulating & even controlling every little process of thoughts.

i am not a puppet with which you can literally place things on my hands & implicate that I did anything more than committing the sin of enjoying my vice of smoking cigarettes & sipping maybe too much coffee today, when maybe one could argue i should begin reading the Bible instead a tiny bit more.

A number pops in my head & a thousand thoughts flood in my inbox in a not too expected, undesirable fashion. Some of these thoughts are kindly aligned with the divinity I believe in my heart to truthfully paint vivid pictures of this universe we accept as something naturally inherited. But then again, other thoughts demean my very existence & crash into my head like a demonic Beamer driving too fast on the highway of my imperfect mind… not that any mind — including mine — is or isn’t perfect, so long as ego is kept naturally at a balance between high & low, just a touch of confident dignified self esteem & worth, but also grounded enough to see the perceived issues we deal with go way beyond us: an issue almost all of humanity deals with… issues we work through, thoughts & feelings we cope & respond gentle heartedly to…

finding time for both work & play, dealing with consequences & grinding enough to set aside time for self healing & decompression in response to any latent edginess we feel that we further must take care of & release this angst through chemically balancing substance, progress, motion & sensitivity & acceptance of the whole human condition relative to our own stance, mindfulness & perspective in our own corner niche of the world.

Two things I know for sure:

Nobody puts baby in a corner…

&

Pressure makes diamonds.

I graduated from a cute vigorously little Catholic high school around the OC area in San Juan Capistrano — living in infinity pool paradise & so too an infinitely costly & extra altogether rewarding, relieving & hustling & bustling crib funded by none other than my mom & step dad, living with the spouses & my amazing sis

— mom & sis both infinitely & forever my angels — as well as two of the dopest step brothers around… with my dad a few cities over, never too far away, an intelligently sincere & humorously wise man who would always show me what’s important: to just have fun… my whole family showed me that.

My stepdad showed me life requires a dose of responsibility & being accountable for actions… that actions speak louder than words — as I write & write & then write some more. My beautiful best friend soul-linked kind of ex of mine once asked me: what do great writers do? I had no idea.

She clued me in with a simple response which I never quite understood until a realization dawned on me a few months to half year or so ago: ‘great writers write’

— I’ve had two girlfriends… so far at least, my ride or dies in their own way, the first lasting just under 3 years of ups & downs & a little over 3 years so far as the other went: they helped to guide me to my next shot, next kiss, next miss & back for another shot & maybe sometimes I’d sink a basket.

I played Varsity Athletics — basketball & volleyball — and earned a 4.17 GPA, studying Cultural Geography, AP Biology, AP European History, AP Language, AP Literature, AP French & Trigonometry or Calculus or whatever (I was failing math… badly, falling asleep on my book, drooling & knocking my textbook materials over off of my desk after early morning rises, not wanting to hit the snooze on the alarm clock & clocking in to hit the gym with my fellow teammates & coach Tim before the classes, the girls, the home made snack & lunch, hydrating on plenty of water), always carrying my Nalgene bottle around so I’d be able to dash on the basketball court & run dive lines on the volleyball court

— all the same court… just a different day, different game. Who’s to say you won’t get a kiss from your first true, almost more infatuating kind of love on the way back home after asking her out to Homecoming with one rose & a cute little letter with a picture of two little kids on a swing & all of that… she was all I ever wanted on my sweet 16th, as well as a car & a good game out on the sand volleyball courts.

Catholic school definitely poses challenges & some restrictions & not a whole lot of lax & leisure to say the least, but the uniforms & outfits always were kind of cool — the routine of it all kind of constantly a sprint from class to class saying hi to the homies who you saw everyday with maybe a little nun like ruler wrist slap every now & then… the best was behind us… a lot was in the near future, but the story was really just starting to be written & come to fruition.

Life was opening a window with a key to so many new experiences in the future.

Alongside of my first GF, I got the acceptance letter to University of California, Davis & enrolled for the Fall Quarter of 2012… ensuing concerts & maybe diving in to this substance & that, being hazed & faking like I really actually wanted to be in a fraternity. I sipped coffee & dipped out of Greek Life so I could focus on the little things — coffee, quiet reads & little walks & wine on the grassy lawn & working as a barista of sorts at the ASUCD Coffee House. My GF & I went to a Halloween Costume Day Drinking Party with white t-shirts on that said ‘Extra Virgin Olive Oil’.

So funny and yes… you guessed it. I was still a virgin. She was Catholic after all. Whatever, it was never too much of a priority for me anyways.

But the girls come & the girls go, like similarly eventual cigarettes would always come, the pack would run low & there I was making my way over to the corner store to pick up some more… a little pick me up, a little score.

I’d watch sports at bars, drinking craft beers, hazy, stout, IPA, but really just liked light beer — Corona, Pacifico, Bud Light & things of that nature. I started collecting vinyl records, CDs & cassettes, going to all the coolest record stores & coffee shops & dive bars & hookah lounges & matcha shops & farmer’s markets, etc. with my second girlfriend (there’s been about four, but she was the last lasting so impactful in her way in the span of the last 31 years… just two that lasted any kind of expanded, extended, seemingly limitless & life altering imbued heartfelt & eventually heartbreaking kind of way).

Quarter Systems were quick, but it took me 6 years to graduate. Davis ended up being the best time in my life from Ski or Snowboard Club in 2016 to the SoundCloud era of 2017 to graduating… 4.17 to about a 3.0 with a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. I had experimented with about 2 dozen majors — so many options from Brewing classes to Viticulture to Advanced Journalism courses on the ‘next .wav of the degenerate generation’ to Landscape Architecture & Sociology. My girlfriend — my best friend & love of my life — went along on adventures with me from Orange County to Yosemite to Bay Area nights & New York mornings & Marin homie hangouts.

The whole experience was so cool.

A couple years went by & I was living on my own again. She got married… for the best — definitely ended up working out alright because I got a three year job as a barista & sandwich artist & flatbread chef at a market on the West Shore of Tahoe.

I believe my ex Gabs may have semi recently received a PhD. I guess she went after her dream of being in the therapy or psychiatry field after getting her Masters & Bachelors of Science with similar, almost even more refined success than my first girlfriend. She really did that. I’m so stoked for her. She really made that happen. We both did.

I produced music on the digital audio workspace Ableton while with her from 2016-2020, utilizing looped samples & audio clips from popular TV shows & classic films. I love you LS. I love you Gabs. I love all of my exes. I love my fam first & foremost & God & all of the day one homies. And I also love all of you for checking this out, whether you dive into the extensive readings — a poetry collection & fiction novel — or you decide, instead to come back some other day.

Maybe you never get around to my little writings or a piece doesn’t strike a chord or a note… cute little sentiment; hopefully these reach you well & at peace internally relative to all of the external surroundings influencing our day to day in the Galaxy & Universe, Mother Nature & the eminent ecstasy in Afterlife… elusive Nirvana no longer elusive anymore, moments away.

Thanks for taking the time out of your day to read. As a creative artist, I love to create art. The more the merrier. So the more the merrier take in the experience of it all with me on this little side project — not really even a hustle…just the hobby I would do forever if I could, probably would, and yeah… I probably will forever do indefinitely.

You can find me in Reno, Nevada currently, writing, producing, envisioning filming some grunge hood rat skate inspired film on a camcorder one day & playing guitar… metaphorically kind of skating by, skirting out, sipping, smoking & vibing. To those I love, thank you for sticking around.

Stay Blest