In case anyone has missed the “freestyle battles” on‘s message board, I’m archiving my own silly ass post here.

yo yo
yo yo
check this
I’ll make you feel the pain
til you be beggin for a shot of novocain
you’ll be beggin PLEASE PLEASE
you’ll be scramblin to find your car keys
I’ll shake you so hard
ya get shaken baby disease
I always do my part
I’ve got 40 hours left
of community service . . .
I’m a good samaritan at heart
I got some knowledge to impart
you fuck with me
you’re gonna need a jump start
check this
I can put it back together like a collection
of popsicle sticks and
goth girl’s slit wrists
I’ve got long lists
who ever even told ya so
I always said no
it’s not possible
I’ll collapse your castle
you better shut the doors
this ain’t no open house
I’m draining your life out
I’m so fuckin straightedge I get cut
punch you in your beer gut
kick you in your plumbers butt
stomp your lights out
and make the
whole shit a murder mystery
with a bloody ending
you’ll be pickin’ up pennies
you better forget it
I’ll fucking assimilate you like
I’m the Borg comin’ to town
to eat lunch at Denny’s


Another brief, incoherent entry. It’s been a long week.

As I write through my handwritten journal, I find myself drifting off and staring into space out where my thoughts are, somewhere. Birthdays are post-it notes of mortality. I definitely feel 30. I’m tired all the time. I can read up to 5 pages in a book, then I start to fall asleep and have to move onto something else. I realize I have to pace myself and be myself, not bottle everything up inside only to let it nag away at me for no damn reason. Other things I have to let go more, worry less, be frustrated less.

Enjoying books, movies, TV shows – all inspiration. Mute the commercials.

I round the vector paths to smooth curves, archive files from the print queues, saddle-stitch documents, recreate logos, troubleshoot network crashes . . . Most of all, avoid the drama all around me, stay out of everyone’s business.

random notes

These are lunch notes. Underlying tensions probably always exist.

I turned 30 today. Reading “Blindness” by Jose Saramago, an intense story that won a Nobel Prize for Literature, about an epidemic of blindness where the victims are cloaked by white instead of black, very much a freakish Twilight Zone feel to it. And Spring, warmer weather, is starting to move in.

I’ll throw my body so it tumbles and rolls down the hill, and all the dirt will stick to me. Reminds me how we used to slip on the ice and land on our backs at Gita Nagari. Bam, right on our backs!

notes . . .

know your math

the world around you
is going to hell

I’m gonna surf it


I’m a patient boy
I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait


walks are so refreshing
I take the back alleys
not the main streets
this is how you really
get to learn your city


love opposes
you eat
and talk with
your mouth


monday went
but I’m exhausted.
plan on writing more


bush is a bastard
that’s the side I’m on
I’ll chime in
make it known
then check back out

I’d rather spend
my time listening
to hip hop
reading whatever
I can
before it’s
all over for me

family troubles

Last night I found out that my cousin is in jail for 1st degree murder. He had to go and blow someone’s head off from the mouth up. Now at 32, basically his life is over. Either he will be given the death sentence or life in prison.


Pondering over a friend’s article, his past as a Hare Krsna so cut off now, so certain it’s not for him any more, so many people reading that beginning to end. Everything takes a strange shape. My own past, present, future – everything is so uncertain. I am not what I was then, I’ve learned many lessons and would do things different if I had to redo them. Aside from politics and drama, my experience is that the Krsna movement seemed like it wanted to mesh me into a collective and it felt like someone was breathing down my neck all the time. It was much better for me to move from the temple and have my own space. But then in that separation over the years I began to lose interest altogether. Now only bits and pieces of me have some connection and a new person is forming as I go through my life. I can only hope what shapes will shape something positive.

Within that context I cannot be ashamed of my past because I learned and experienced so much in such a short amount of time – ten years. But many lessons I’ve had to learn on my own. That’s where I am now. Kind of on my own, claiming allegiance to no particular movement, not feeling under the gun to go out and “preach” any particular idea that I’m not so sure about these days anyway. Spirituality is not something you can necessarily put to words, and if you do, sometimes you can regret it. Most people around me are a bunch of insensitive slobs, they don’t step lightly with anything. They’re in that sales mode or something. I don’t understand it, but I do. They’ve become molded by a lifestyle.

You can live your lifestyle in
your head
let it swim in there
during the day
and if you
like you can
let a few words
come out
carve upwards
into the air
not so sterile
any more
the office job cellblock
don’t be afraid
to be who you are
but don’t let
ego get in
the way of the work
don’t stand around
blowing hot air

that’s my situation
I actually like
graphics and print stuff
so I don’t like
to waste time
talking about nothing
in attempt to make
the time go faster
it’s a blessing
this time around
the hours the days
pass more naturally

as a designer
I’ve also learned how
important it is
not to hold onto what you do
you have to speed up, let go
all those things
a logo you’ve worked on for
an hour
may very well
get shot down
as that happens you should
already have yourself
busy in the next project
only to think of it in passing

of course I see what
is unhealthy
not always being
able to figure out
how to fix it
let time unfold on it

that feeling you get when you step on a slug; that one. sunshine is here. where am I?

Who’s this life belong to? Tea at lip’s burning edge of mouth, timbers of house. Align the dishes perfectly, for perfection you have to spend some time with it, and even then it is only perfect for just a little time and has to be redesigned. Deserving of in and out breathing, chewing food and swallowing. Receptacles to separate. Don’t pour soup into your french fries.

Look into the room out there and you see your friend dancing out of his mind, drugged up losing it. A new side. A placement misaligned, an overbite.

Do you fix what you break or break it some more? How generic is your terror? Do you sway like you’ve got a split personality? Can you write down exactly what you believe?

My eyes sting tired and I’d rather be sitting than standing in this small town of death. Two buildings down from a funeral home. Cool, like Six Feet Under. Maybe not as cool. In Winter I’m falling in love with my bed. They say every hour slept before midnight is worth two hours. That’s some heavy shit. What is that?

Strive to be more creative. Take that just how it sounds. But also I’ll say, stripping down what appears to be mundane, seeing value in the small things, slowing down, making less mistakes, seeing beauty all around – try for all that without tripping on acid tabs, that kind of business. Who’s up for it?

kite returning in low
this is breakfast time
he sold books
like a missionary
everything was
over months
how he talked
every breath
it seemed
wasn’t such
an obvious
sales pitch
the old woman
retained some beauty
her smile lightened
the burden
of her children
grown now
carrying groceries
money burning
holes in their pockets
their bosses
asked too many
repetitive questions
work fires bullets
it’s inevitable
you’re singing
the dinner song
just before dinner
it’s a celebration
turn the corner
parallel park well
drive like you know

I’m not scared of birds
but yes to snakes, spiders
not so much rats
big yes to zombies
and certain television commercials

time to sing the bedtime song