Writer, Actor, Musician, Personal Trainer.
Twitter: @warflorist or @resistancequest
A Legacy of Dust
The diner held down the ground near the edge of the cliff like a tack on the canvas of the earth, stretched so tightly it threatened to unroll and let the ancient rock face collapse into the gluttonous ravine. Only the Riccavena Diner—open 24 hours since time began—kept the world in place and gave a semblance of hope to the passing masses for whom the promise of gold was enough to inspire a sudden appetite, even if none existed before.
A Lust for Death
—Ofterdingen, step in front of the mirror. —Yes sir. —Enter Discussion Mode. —Yes sir. I am in Discussion Mode. I will match your level of diction but will continue responding to commands.
Using DropBox to Clear 98GB From My Phone’s SD Card
DropBox is a file-sharing application that has been around for longer than many current smartphone-users. It has remained, in the opinion of this writer, one of the main applications that almost everyone has heard of, used, or belonged to, and it has done so without feeling the need to feign glamor or being “cool.”
L'Absence de Douleur
What does life hold in trust worth more than an absence of pain? Is there something greater Than indignity forgotten: A nameless constellation of scars without stories?
Why Is Whitey So Pissed Off?
Why is Whitey so mad? All Whitey's life, he is told that the world belongs to him. That he has intrinsic value. That his ideas, his convictions, his views of the world are "correct." Sure, there are others in "Western civilization" that came before him; these are his "forefathers," or even better, his "founding fathers." With their pure original genius and raw willpower, completely on their own and with no one else's help at all, they built the optimal world in which he lives, in which he is graciously on their level.
Don’t praise meFor I am nothing more than you.Don’t compliment my lookFor I have worked at it the least.Don’t tell me that I helped youFor the depth of your sadness magnified my worth.Don’t tell me that I’m wiseWhen such wisdom turns my hopes to lies.Don’t tell me that I’m patientFor I was born to wait for things to end.Don’t tell me that I’m brightFor what voids have I undone?Don’t tell me I’m specialFor special people are never told.Don’t call me a good friendFor I would do the same for anyone.Don’t ask to hold my handFor you ask to do what I’m already doing in my mind.Don’t say that I have talent,For talent is not an act but a costume.Don’t tell me I’m articulateFor it is only to avoid starting an argument.Don’t envy meFor you envy envy itself.Don’t love meFor to love me is to love anger.Don’t forgive meBecause I will only do it again.Don’t hold me close to youFor closeness is where my heart ends.
Love Is Pain Because People Are Free
Why does love so often involve pain? You love someone and they don't love you back. Pain. You love someone and they leave you. Pain. You love someone and they let you down. Pain. You love someone and they're in pain, so they hurt you. Pain.
Men Who Hate Their Bodies
In the fitness industry where I work as a personal trainer, there is a lot of pressure on men to grow copious amounts of muscle for no other reason than to be the biggest and best. It has little or nothing to do with professional development, social development, or personal development. Anyone who's bigger than you is better than you and anyone who's smaller than you is beneath you.