I MADE IT!
Now that we’ve got all the history about why in doing a 3-day Juice fast out of the way, let’s just get into the effect it’s having on me.
To be completely honest, I woke up kind of groggy today. I didn’t feel hungry at all and noticed a bit of a headache. Hope it’s not a tumor. Which brings me to my next unnecessary story.
Years ago, my mom was complaining of having headaches. I had recently watched Kindergarten Cop, and naturally, my response was “maybe it’s a tumor”. And you know that? It was! Long story short, they got it out, she’s still alive and I’m a doctor. I mean, not like a real doctor doctor, but I pretend to be one in the bedroom. I give the meanest pap smears.
I started a juice cleanse today. It went well.
Ever since I visited my brother (@cwdaly everywhere that matters) for his birthday about a month ago, I’ve been feeling really shitty about the way I eat. You see, Clay, as he likes to be called these days, is a really clean eater. I mean, insanely clean. He’s a fucking vegan for god’s sake. You know how hard that is?
Now, I won’t go into his reasoning for choosing his current lifestyle, but he does podcast about it occasionally if you want to check it out and feel guilty about being a normal person, if you’re an omnivore. And while it takes quite a bit to actually make me feel guilty about anything I eat, I do feel bad about the terrible turn that my diet had taken over the years. I’ve had no structure, restraint nor direction in what I’ve allowed to enter my body and lord knows it shows.
I’ve never been much of a diet guy, except for those few years where I went low carb to crawl out of a particularly deep health funk. That was actually very successful at transforming my out of shape body into something somewhat sexy. However, I knew it was particularly health nor sustainable. But, boy, was it easy to just eat as much meat as I wanted whenever I was hungry and not only but gain any unwanted weight, but actually lose some too. Shit was too good to be true. But eventually I adopted a more balanced diet and things seemed to stay in balance for the most part.
And then I had my son. He’ll be five this month and I’ve noticed that I’ve slowly put on a few pounds each year since he’s interrupted my balanced lifestyle. And I’m not blaming him. I’m just using him as an excuse. But if I plan to be around to see him grow old, I’ll have to stop living like I’m invincible. So, I decided to do a juice cleanse.
Now, in fully aware that I’ll likely lose some temporary weight by only consuming juice for three days, but that’s not the point or the goal here. The objective is to see if I feel any benefit from cutting out junk from my body and flooding it with nutrients. But in a higher level, I want to challenge myself and my relationship with food and eating in general.
Let’s face it, eating is really easy to do. Especially when you’re not very selective in what you choose to consume. A burger here, fried chicken there, ice cream and maybe even a mouthful of stripper vagina. I have no idea how that one got in there and I also have no idea how stripper always end up with their vages in my face. I guess I’m a vagitarian. But I really digress and sincerely apologise for that vulgar tangent.
The point I was trying to make was that we can become numb to the dumb choices we make when it comes to food. Heart attacks and diabetes can back me up on that. It’s almost as the food (and marketing) are actually in control and not the people. And I’m taking about myself here as well, so don’t think I’m taking down on you from some sort of high and mighty soup box (I know that sentence sucked, but I shall let her live).
So how was my first day, you ask? It was pretty easy for the most part. I bought my juices from Austin based, Squeezed. I’m actually doing it with a really close friend to give me some support along the way. We actually spit the six day cleanse between the two of us. We’ve done one in the past, but at the time I was in much better shape and I just did it to do it. This time my approach is a little more focused. I’ve got more to lose now.
I didn’t really feel any hunger today until I went to CrossFit in the evening after work. I always tend to build up a massive appetite after this classes and probably undue must of the progress from the gym in the drive-thru. Fucking idiot!
At any rate, I’ll report how I feel in days two and three right here. And I promise I’ll try to stay focused and actually write about the range of emotions and thoughts that cone and go though my mind as I continue this journey of starvation and masterbation. It should I cut that out too for the next few days? I’ll think it over while browsing pornhub. See you soon!
I haven’t seen the R. Kelly docementray, but I don’t think it’s even necessary to see it to understand just how troubled that dude it. I actually never really rocked with him to begin with, even before all this “news” on his behavior. I’ve always thought the whole Aalliyah situation smelled foul, and I wasn’t even an adult back then. Before I commence to dragging this scumbag, I’ll just put it out there; I’m pretty nasty (ask about me). But when I’m disgusted by someone… Watch out! You know that fucker is TRASH!!!
I’ve never seen the footage of him pissing on that young girl and I didn’t need to, to know that he is a sick, sad man. I was never able to get into his music either, because something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. I’ll admit that one or two of his songs have probably made their way onto one or two of my love-makin’ mix tapes/CDs during my misguided youth, but that’s just because that’s what the ladies wanted to hear. And that was back when I was still building my sexual credit, so I just did whatever was required to boost my score. Oh, the things I’ve done.
I’ll also admit that I’ve even seen him live in concert, once. But to be clear, it was an invite in one of those executive box suites, so I wasn’t in any danger of getting peed on by accident. I’ve said all that to say that I didn’t actually spend my money to see this clown, therefore I was not directly patronizing him. And I’ve said all that in an effort to make me seem like a better person. I’m not. Back to the concert. It was a bit of an older crowd and he seemed slightly, but noticably uninspired. It was fairly recent so maybe it was due to his old age, but more than likely it was due to the crowd’s old age.
Now on to the crux of the matter; aside from being a filthy person, R. Kelly is a predator of the most nefarious kind. Everyone pretty much agrees that sexually assaulting a very young person is bad. But Kellls openly preyed on girls that were still under legal age, but old enough for onlookers to give him a pass. Let me break it down for you folks, especially those in the camp of “those girls were, fast, loose and knew what they were doing.” There is a reason why sex with a minor is considered statutory rape. Kids (yes, kids) that age do not know what they’re doing, despite how wise they think they may be. They’re not. They are called young and dumb for a reason. They are also easy to manipulate and violate. It’s the adult’s responsibility to redirect and guide these children, no matter how fast, loose or fine. I understand how the lines could get blurred between a 18 and 16 year old, but R. Kelly has been a grown ass man for as long as I’ve known him.
Furthermore, to put the blame on the victims, is both stupid and stupid. Yes, that stupid. I’m sure in some, if not most, of those cases, those girls have probably been mishandled in the past by adult males that should have been protecting and nurturing them instead of assaulting and damaging them. I’ve developed close and deep relationships with many women that have confided in me and shared some of the horrors that uncles, cousins, brothers and even fathers have put then through and it infuriates me to no end. That’s who R. Kelly is. He’s that guy. And that guy fucking sucks!
Happy new year! Yes, it is June and yes, it has been that long. Recently I was working late at the office doing something I should have done earlier that day and I came up with a saying. But before I go into what I told my self on that late and fate-filled work night, I would like to set the records straight that I do not have conversations with my self. I don’t want my faithful readers to think that I’m that guy, you know, that does that. No, instead of talking to my self, I actually project another, better, version of myself upon the space that surrounds me and I try to forget that it’s not real and after a while, it is (an if you’re still with me, I commend you).
But the thing that often happens is that I forget which one is me and which one is not and before you know it, it doesn’t even matter, even though it should. And once we both drop our guards and put aside the minor detail of who is real and who is not, we eventually begin to have completely authentic conversations. And it is in these moments of solitude that I come up with the smartest and dumbest ideas, sayings, concepts and designs while maintaining my residency in sanity.
Now back to the story I started to tell at the at the beginning of this thought. It was in that particular late-night session that I came up with the saying “today is greater than one day” and by that, I mean that it is always better to do something today than to say you will do it one day. I think visually, so I thought of it, stylized as 2 day > 1 day, which later evolved into the design at the top of this post.
I immediately loved the concept and decided to put it to (digital) paper by way of a vector-based graphic design software, which shall remain nameless. And about an hour or so later, I walked away from my work, convinced that I was satisfied with a version of the design you see above. I made some minor adjustments the following day to see if it made sense and it turned out that it needed some help, so I added the line at the bottom for clarification.
Now, the reason why I love the design is that it makes sense as a mathematical statement and as a verbal statement, when converting the numbers to words and disregarding the “over” symbols when reciting it out loud. So if you can do all of those things, then you can go ahead and get as much joy out of that little design as I do. I also played with a multiplication version of the design, but the division eventually won out. It looks a little something, well exactly, like this:
And that simple saying has served as a wonderful little creative laxative to move along some of the shit that has been building up inside of my brain. Me writing this post is just one example of its effectiveness (even though I did procrastinate in posting it). But this does not mean that I am back to writing regularly, per se. Maybe if I can produce some fictional material, but I can’t keep sharing my deepest darkest secrets with the world, for free.
With that said, I’m open to any book deals if the price is right. Oh, you’ll get it all (in no particular order): Action, adventure, anal, babes, booties, boobies, crime, coming of age, coming on girls, danger, drugs, dark comedy, espionage, erotica, ecstasy, fetish, fantasy, fucking, girls, gangs, guns, haters, hookers, hoes, infidelity, infertility, incest, jokes, junkies, jizzing, kissing, kidnappings, kink, love, lust, lies, marriage, mistresses, murder mysteries, needles, nipple rings, none sense, orgasms, orgies, office romances, pleasure, pain, panty raids, quirks, queers, queefs, relationships, romantic comedy, reincarnation, suspense, sex, squirting, temptation, tension, tag teams, UTIs, ultrasounds, ultra-violence, vices, vaginas, women, whiskey, weddings, XL condoms, XXL clothing, XXX-rated home movies, yachts, yoga, Y2K, Zima, zebras and, of course, zombies!
Publishers, make me an offer!
Have ever had experienced a series of events, however small, strung together in succession, in pretty close proximity to one another, and have them collectively combine to create a creepily coincidental moment that you just have to share, but don’t have anyone with you to share it with? No? Well, you simply must. But in all seriousness I’ve had one of these moments today and I’m not just writing about it because I had no one to share it with at the time. Even though it has me wondering now if that is, in fact, the reason why. At any rate, I just wanted to bring up this phenomenon that sometimes sneaks it’s way into even the most terrible of days and takes you by semi-sweet surprise.
Well here goes my moment. So, I’m at a Wal-Mart (I know. I hate myself, so save it.) returning a headset speaker combo thingy that I bought for a podcast or netcast (depending on you political affiliation) that I record on a bi-weekly basis with my older brother, Clay and my younger cousin, Ty. Actually, “Clay” and “Ty” are their nicknames, respectively, but pay attention to the latter as it will tie into this story in just a bit. I don’t want to point out the obvious, but see what I did there? Any way, before we get to that…
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So, we’re back at Wal-Mart, surrounded by low prices, fairly low expectations and slightly lower paid employees, doling out mediocre customer service in the fuckin’ “Customer Service” department. You would think, of all departments, that customer service would be the best in this particular one. But that’s kind of like expecting your emergency to be treated as such in an emergency room. The world, I tell ya… You make me crazy, you make me wild. So what? I like Lana Del Ray.
But I, as I usually do, digress. Ok, ok. I’ll try to stay on track. Today is Monday and on those days I usually wear a suit. Not all Mondays, but most. On this particular Monday, I decide to wear my skinny black tie, with a drawing of a gun towards the bottom of it. The thing I like about this ties is that, when the suit is buttoned, you cannot clearly see the gun. But once undone, it’s pretty obvious what I’m packin’ down there (at the bottom of my tie, perv). Actually in all seriousness, it kinda looks like a gun is sticking out my zipper when seated and the tie is exposed.
The moment I saw this tie, years ago, in either a Spencer’s or Hot Topic, I decided it was a must-have. And I didn’t drop those names because they are cool places to shop, especially for anything you plan to wear to work. I just wanted to put it out there that there is nowhere I won’t look for something different and unique. I also want to make my co-workers a little bit unsettled around me anytime I feel that they’re getting too close for my personal comfort. Nothing unsettles people more at a work setting than the thought of their co-worker or superior loving guns so much that they must display their love of guns on their attire. To be honest, I’m not that into guns. They look cool, but I’m not exactly jizzing my jeans over an assault rifle or handgun, if you know what I mean.
While I’m in this line I peg a guy behind the register to be the type of person to appreciate my tie. Nothing gay or anything like that. He just seemed like the type that would: A larger fella, with glasses, a Dr. Who pin and an all around nerdy aura about him. And let’s face it, it’s pretty darn cool to be nerdy these days, so that was in no way an insult. Now, I literally (and I use that word literally) thought in my head that if he were to assist me with the return of my unsatisfactory purchase, that he would make a remark about my tie. I wasn’t positive that would happen, but I knew for a fact he would think it in his head at the very least. Yes, I am that good, folks. I know what you’re thinking, I just ruined the story for you. Well, you wrong. It gets even better.
After years of waiting, it is finally my turn to get served. And wouldn’t you have guessed it, I end up up being served by this guy, who name happens to be… Well, let’s get to that in a bit. So one of the first things he says to me, and I shit you not, is, “I like your tie.” Nailed it! I tell him thanks, and look at the tag hanging from his neck for his name, and guess what his goddamned name is? Close. It’s fuckin’ Ty. Now, the first thing I think is, that that’s my cousin’s nickname, which is pretty coincidental to begin with. But it isn’t until I realize that his name is Ty, as in tie, which is waht tied this whole thing together in the first place. There I was. Mind. Fucked. I just stood there looking around like, “is anyone else seeing this?” Well, I didn’t say it out loud and by the looks of everyone’s faces, they were, in fact, not seeing it. It was just me, in my little bubble, having my little moment. Wish you were there.
Have you ever had one of those? I know I’m not really talking to anyone when I asking this question because my blog hasn’t blown up yet. But if you happen to stumble upon this post and made it this far, I’d like to hear your story. Please share below in the comments.
If you think last year went by faster than the previous, you’re right. I’ve come to the humble realization that, the older you get, the faster years go by. No studies have shown this statement to be true, but I know this information as fact. This knowledge does not come as a surprise, but it does come with a dollop of sadness and a shit ton of motivation. Don’t let days, weeks, months and years pass you by. Use your youth and do some shit. Make lists and cross items off. Set lofty and lazy goals to mix things up and keep you motivated. And unless you’re a hooker and getting paid for it, don’t blow it.
I promise to do the following this year:
Be a good person to those that I love
Build up those that depend on me
Read and write more
Keep filthy dirty diary of secrets and share it with one person
Take dance lessons
Add at least two tailored suits to wardrobe
Reincorporate pink in my fashion selections
Make several dirty home movies
Expand my mind with reality altering drugs
Stay potent
Live young
Love hard
Hate nothing
Don’t murder anyone
And to be in the safe side, just in case I slip up on any one of these goals, don’t get found guilty for murdering anyone in the court of law.
Beats the hell outta this Dick, but I just watched “Aziz Ansari: Buried Alive” and “The Polar Express”, in that order, yesterday and today, respectively, alone and with my family, also respectively in that order. I know. That previous sentence could have been constructed with more care and craftsmanship, but I like it just the way it is and therefore it shall live on as such. But I digress.
Before I continue, I must preface this post with an important piece of information. In the not-too-distant future I’m going to be my imagined version of a father. Yes, you read that right; there is some poor girl out there that has trusted my sperm to fertilize her egg. WTF aren’t the right letters, but they are the first three letters that come to mind.
Back to the original intent of this correspondence. And, yes, it will be about kids and parenting and shit like that, so there. I don’t know if that’s all I’ll be able to think and write about now, but if it is, then so be it. So Aziz kicks off his routine with a bit about turning 30 and how all his friends his age are telling him that they either started a family or are planning on it. And he, of course, thinks that shit cray! And if you’re slow, I just said that he thinks that shit’s CRAZY!
He goes on to point out all the reasons not to do such a thing at such an age and rubs it in with such a sting and such a rage that you start to hurt just a little inside. He flaunts his freedom in everyone’s face and makes a complete mockery of the institution of marriage and the pyramid scheme called parenthood and he’s completely on point. I never knew me and that little twerp thought so much alike. And I don’t use the word “twerp” in its strictest form or function here; I’m actually employing it as a term of endearment. I like the guy. He’s smart and he dresses well and he has never sold himself out. I know that last part did not need to be mentioned, but I left it in anyway. He would do the same.
So there I was as as a soon-to-be parent listening to a childless millionaire talk about how much time and money is sunk into rearing a kid and how much of a rip-off that is on your personal life, goals, and dreams. Man, that shit hurts! But I still laughed and perhaps I cried a little, too. But I’m sure it was just from laughing too hard, and not from actually realizing that my life as I had known it had a nine month time bomb strapped on to it about 5 months ago. Yeah, that’s where I’m at at the moment of this writing. And as I am writing this, it is with the intent of putting it out in public, but also with the uncertainty that I will follow through once it’s all written and done. Because I am going to be brutally honest about my feelings which may, in turn, hurt others. I don’t want no baby mama drama, is all I’m sayin’.
Back to Aiz. So, I take it all in, boil it down overnight in my tears and wake up and go to work this morning. After work I come home and I decide that I’d like to watch a movie with my better half and her bundle of joy. I decide on “The Polar Express” because Netflix thinks I should do so. But I’ll tell you a secret, Netflix isn’t that smart because if it were, there would be more porn on the “Top Picks for DICK” section (Yes, you read that right; I said more porn). I know it’s not a new movie, but I have never had the urge to see it until Netflix decided that I should. Let’s hope Netflix never suggests that I watch a documentary on how to successfully leave your wife and unborn child for your mistress without a lawyer or a hitman. In all seriousness I would never do that, but I would definitely watch the documentary.
Off the bat this movie rubs me the wrong way. And I’m not being a Scrooge here, just being myself – a Dick. So, a train pulls up to a kid’s house and the guy that yells “all aboard!” asked the kid if he’s gonna get on the train. I never liked those kind of stories, even as a kid. They’re fucking creepy. Of course the kid gets on, or else we don’t have much of a story here, but the underlying message of showing kids it’s okay to hop on a train with a stranger is what gets me. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna harp on it and make a big deal out of it, but I do want to point out that those stories are likely created by pervs. I can just see those writers jizzing all over their laptops as they type out the vivid scenes of little kids far away from their parents being taken off to the “north pole.” More like the south pole in real life, if you know what I’m saying. If you’re a kid and you’re reading this, good on ya! Don’t hop on trains with strangers. They will butt-fuck you.
At any rate, as you may or may not know, it’s a Christmas movie ( in the Santa sense not the Jesus sense). So I ask the woman that is holding my baby hostage in her womb how long she believed in Santa as a child. Of course this was a set-up for the larger and more important question. But I’ll get to that later. So, she tells me that it was up until middle school. Then she asks me the same question and I look at her as if she just insulted me. And that’s when I realized that I never bought it in the first place. And her follow-up question was whether I was going to ruin it for our son when his time came to wrestle with these imaginary weirdos that all parents seem to think their kids should go through. It’s like playing a real life video game with your kid as they defeat the bosses based on rank and importance. First, the Tooth Fairy is fake. Next is the Easter Bunny. And then we have Santa. Once they eliminate that fat bastard, then they can tango with the real boss… No, not God. The honest politician. The sooner they realize that none of those exist the better off they will be.
But, in all seriousness. I’ll let the little squirt believe whatever he wants for as long as he wants. We’ll even watch “The Polar Express” and “Aziz Ansari: Buried Alive” as a cautionary tale and birth control in that order and very respectively. So the lesson to be learned is that you should put off having kids for as long as possible and when you finally give in, don’t let them watch kid’s movies without parental supervision and commentary. As for the fairy tales; I cannot be the only person that thinks that those games are unnecessary. Must we put our children through that bullshit? Is there something to be gained? Someone please enlighten me before it’s too late for little Jax.
I’ve remained fairly quiet during the whole Trayvon Martin situation. I remember briefly showing public support last year by putting up a picture of myself in a hoodie as my Facebook profile pic. And that’s about as far as that went for me. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not stating these facts because they make me feel proud. But I must also clarify that at the same time I don’t fee guilty for not doing more. [continue reading…]
you’re the captain of your ship
fueled up for take off
your clothes no longer have value
those that you’ve loved
they’ll miss you when you’re gone
you won’t be coming back
only forward from this point forward
interplanetary exploration
outerspacial glazing
gazing deep within in your soul
is emptied and exposed
waiting to be refilled and replenished
with a renewed sense of purpose
and direction set for earthless
bound for something new and shiny
no matter how tiny it may seem
you set your sights high
expectations low
certain of your destination
uncertain of your destiny
glowing off in the distance
patiently and eagerly waiting
for you to touch down
on her body’s water and soil
to be explored and discovered
from highest peaks to deepest depth
ready to receive or reject you
not knowing what she may be
fully capable of
sparking new life and energy
or merely just
another volatile fiery star
dying to burn you to nothing in no time
you’ve done the math and science
the reward has outweighed the risk
all and nothing all at once
you proceed unperturbed
prepared for exogenesis