yo I’m sitting at this coffee shop and doing a bit of writing, and a storm literally manifested out of nowhere. like it just started pouring hella hard. anyway funny thing though how it also just made its way into an excerpt, its almost like, it just subconsciously entered my story.

This is an excerpt from my story “Suture” Chapter 18

“…“Oh, this looks like a place of interest!” Tox hung a sharp left into the spot. He opened the door and the dancing bells at the top of the hinge greeted him. Crystals liter every table haphazardly, some tables crammed so full they look like they want to dive off every edge. Tox adjusted his monocle and picked up some nearby rocks and began to observe them a bit closer. 

A storm began to brew outside, rolling thunder interrupted the bustle of the town. Pitter patter began to pelt the windows creating a kind of therapeutic cadence, something about the rain is melancholic but soothing. Tox could see the reflection of the window outside in the crystal that he picked up. Looking closer a ballerina made of raindrops appeared and began a routine, other droplets came crashing down like a million mini aquatic comets forming into watery dancers as they collided with the window pane. Synchronizing perfectly. Tox went into his memory banks and thought of a fond memory he had with Penelope. 

Ah yes, where we were, was right in front of our newly built cabin, we spent many days together during that time planning and building, just the two of us. We finally finished building the cabin and was standing out front of the place admiring our finished work. She fell into my arms and laid her head on my left shoulder. It started raining, light at first. The drizzle grazing our skin, dampening the earth around us as the soil and its heightened aroma held our noses attention. Fiddling around with magic I summoned an earth umbrella out of hardened dirt to shield us from the rain. That’s when she suggested that we just embrace the rain, so I let the earthen umbrella dismantle itself and joined Penelope as she began to twirl around in circles. The rain fell at an urgent pace now racing their brothers and sisters to the ground and everything else around us. She wore a purple and grey sundress, and as she twirled away her dress came open like a ____ she slipped and I summoned a mud chair to catch her fall, but she purposely missed the chair and fell into the mud. She motioned me over to join her and she whipped out her flute and began playing a melancholic tune. A tune that she played often. It always had a hypnotic quality to it, sporadically inspiration would flow into my ideas when she’d be tending her garden outside and felt inclined to play that tune...”

eh it needs a bit of editing probably but I just found it interesting how the rain in real life transmuted itself into the story currently. lol.


For one reason or another, there’s been a shift in my vibe. I haven’t pinpointed the exact catalysts for this shift, though it definitely has to do with all the different interactions I’ve been having lately, also the subtle changes in routine that have been arising. Ever have this feeling of just imposter syndrome? Where you just don’t think you’re good enough at something? I’ve reached a breakthrough finally with all the different people I’ve met and shared my art with, encouraging me and acknowledging me. Now it’s just time to do the work. To blood sweat and tears, to chisel away at this enormous block of letters, and pound those keys day in day out.

at some point in time, I thought, man, I haven’t got enough direction, I’m not creating enough, I’m not focused, then I’d have people around me, tell me the same thing. So, maybe it started to become true because that’s what I started to believe. Then someone once told me too, not to take advice from those who haven’t even walked the path. Then as I began to have more interactions and just thanking and appreciating the poets and writers around me, the words they shared with me bolstered me up. Made me feel accepted as a budding writer. Now I’m not so afraid or fearful that my writing is garbage. And even if it was or is garbage, who cares, we’re progressing forward swimming in trashed words! one person’s trash is another person’s treasure! fuck it!

So recently I got ghosted by someone I was really starting to connect with, and it was a pretty huge blow, I took it pretty seriously for like two weeks. I kind of wished I didn’t open up so much and just kept the budding friendship on a more basic, surface level.

But maybe it wasn’t meant to be. By then maybe it was meant to be, maybe it was supposed to be just a transient experience to wake both parties up, to teach a lesson. I saw some toxicity in my behavior that I really had to re-evaluate, and looked deep into myself to understand that I may have been a bit too reactive in our exchange of words, and I probably didn’t think about what I was truly saying or meaning to say and became sucked back into a primal state of being.

Pulling oneself out of a giant crater dug over time is a bit of a process.

I’ve been meeting so many inspiring people as of late. Yesterday I plopped down in a Starbucks to write, and it took a little while, but I caught a spark and it turned into flames as I wrote down a bunch of ideas hammering away at a new rhyme I intend to make into a song maybe. Writing rhymes is a really fun exercise for me. I found this artist called Philanthrope, their music is so goooood. Ugh I just wanna take a nap now. Strange. Maybe I Will.


I must admit that I’m still new this form of poetry where I don’t rhyme multiple words in each sentence together, I thought really that’s what all poets did, just rhymed words in “stanzas” 

the sentiment that coalaces is like the way water feels as it runs its way down the insides of your empty stomach. Soothing, Satisfying, Energizing, Thought Provoking,  but somehow as time runs its inevitable course, it still feels like it’s never enough, the soul hungers for more growth, more letters, more words, more text messages, more likes, more hugs, more connection, more music, more creativity, more friendship, more meditation, more harmony, more smiles, more metaphors, more similes, more analogies,  more more more! Then as you go through your growing process, you get thrown off, your soul starts hungering for less, less noise, less hate, less racism, less dissonance, less addiction, less conflict, less heartbreak, less gossip, less accidents, less tickets, less garbage, less bills, less lies, less less less.

It almost reminds me of a young hopeful mind versus an older cynical mind.

Finding balance seems to come natural to certain people who are really intuned with themselves and the earth it seems. Though what are we not seeing behind the scenes? Were these people we hear about, or even know in our lives born out of the womb a buddha statue? Probably not, probably took a lot of self discipline, and practice. At least that’s what my intuition is telling me. 

I’ve come to the library and sat down with the intention to write a piece of poetry that might move the people who will be listening to me since i have been asked to feature at this thing tomorrow. I really don’t even know what poetry really means or what it’s history is. Yet i call myself a poet. Do I deserve the right to call myself a poet? I don’t know. At this point though I’ve already believed that whatever i keep telling myself i am, i become. So even if I’m not a poet up to anyone else’s standards, I’m a poet thats continuing to grow my self. I guess that’s enough. 

New Inspiration

Ever have those days where you wake up full of a feeling where you might be able to conquer anything thrown at you? I feel like that today. Sort of. I thought I woke up late today, to find a surprise that the time had changed and I actually woke up a bit earlier than expected. Had myself a nice little breakfast and met a lady named Karen. She made me my sandwich this morning. I didn’t get to know her too much past that, only that she said to come visit her again next Sunday morning. Hmm, maybe I will?

I listened to an amazing couple of videos, and well I’ve decided that, while I really want to help those around me seek some kind of new perspective, some kind of inspiration to create and move forward and be present, that I can only lead by example, or perhaps even vibrate towards others who are maybe just as passionate about something. Does this make sense? Perhaps certain individuals need to go through what they need to without the intervention of some outside force or source or whatever.


Joe Rogan slapped some perspective into my life this morning! 🤔

Rubrics Cube

It has a strange way of inspiring you at times. Especially when you don’t fully understand the lesson that’s supposed to be learned from the experience that transpires. I read somewhere that the lesson will keep showing up until you grow from it or learn what your supposed to, something along those lines.

I met a friend recently, and although I surmise she is younger than me by a few years, she’s amazingly well put together. Career-wise and what have you. It’s very inspiring, though how ever long it may take me to reach some kind of security like her, I may not know. That’s when that sinking feeling returns. What am I doing by creating this “art”? Ultimately I aspire to inspire those around me, and if I could have changed one person’s perspective, or even to go as far as trajectory in life, just simply by being there, having said something that motivated change or even brought some fresh viewpoint back into an otherwise stagnant flow, if I could say a few things, make a few poems, and be the cataylst to even something small. I think I will be somewhat satisfied. But then stems the question, is that enough?

On a more realistic note, will that pay the bills? Lol. They say it’s never too late, but is that just an illusion?

More recently I think it was yesterday morning I listened to a motivational video and one of the speakers said, strive for greatness, so then is being satisfied with motivating just one person or inspiring change in one person enough? Or should I aim to motivate and inspire millions? Puzzles.