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California Sensations

26 Mar

I had a dream I fucked my retarded cousin and my stepfather caught me. His anger and disappointment were unbelievably painful. It was clear he’d have me prosecuted and would cut me out of his life. Continue reading

Birthday 2023

19 Feb

I used to want billions to die. But age brings diminishment of passions. Now I just want one god damn night of eight hours sleep. I snap awake at 4-something AM every day for two weeks. I can feel it giving me Alzheimer’s. My one prominent face wrinkle fissuring deeply, ugly old failure etc.etc.. Whatever man. I always felt like this. Continue reading

It’s Over

30 Jan

What the fuck else. I’m a broken and defeated man. Spiritually castrated. It feels great. The dream, the wife and kid dream keeps trying to sneak back. But it’s gone. I let it go. Continue reading

Weekend Journal: Peace and Love

7 Jun

The Gun Range


Saturday I went to the gun range. To sight in my pandemic gun. Rioters could come up the stairs. Out of the box it shot 6 inches right at 25 yards. If I miss I’m a Haitian Revolution woodcut. The Ruger 10/22 Takedown has a factory sight that’s not adjustable for windage. Instead per the manual you: Continue reading

Auto Wreck

24 Nov

Title stolen from this Karl Shapiro poem.


Sitting waiting to make a left into the gym driveway. Night workout before Alcoholics Anonymous. A drunk swerved across the yellow line. Slammed into me. Old Korean guy. Mr. Kim, obviously. Why have names. Continue reading

Drop the Rock

22 Sep


Can’t meet a girl until I quit my job. Can’t quit my job until I have a hundred grand. Can’t get a hundred grand because I spend it on girls. I crashed my car. I crashed into the back of a Salvadoran couple who were clearly uninjured but the guy started holding his back with the subtlety of the evil priest in the telenovelas they play at the laundromat. Motherfucker. Now I’m getting called into work on a Sunday. Exactly like fucking Office Space. How did this happen. It’s always been like this. I listened to my AA sponsor. I was grateful to be of service and now I’m alone working my ass off with nothing for nothing and I’m horribly aware that my problems don’t exist and they’re all in my own head. I do have a hundred grand. Some of it’s a retirement account. I’d pay taxes if I withdrew it. So suddenly it doesn’t count. This time two years ago it was fifty grand to quit and it’ll just go up and up to whatever amount is close but not quite there. It was six months of cash then a year now two then two plus what if I get someone pregnant, like anyone’s keeping my fucking baby. Like I’d want them to at my Los Angeles public schools level of income. I need an abundance mentality. I could crash into a hundred Salvadorans and still be in the black. I could Farmers Market it through the Salvadoran Heritage Festival. A hundred kids with a hundred whores– what the fuck are they gonna do to me. Continue reading

Protected: Weekend Journal: Your Pussy Your Problem

11 Dec

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Weekend Journal: Pussy is the Only Thing

10 Jul

girl cropped pussy

As I was washing shit off my dick with the citrus almond hand soap I tried to feel bad. I couldn’t. I tried to be afraid of HIV; scrutinized my shiny white shaft under the surgical bathroom light for blood. Raw anal sex with runaway meth hookers: frowned upon by the CDC. But I was intact. What’s more, the transmission rate for the– what’s the opposite of the “receptive partner”– the guy who puts his dick in never gets it. I tried to think about hanging myself like I have at least ten times a day for a month. Couldn’t. I tried to picture my dead dad, my dead friend, my dead cat looking down on me from heaven. Shaking their heads at the boy they loved doing self destructive shit. Their ghosts were gone. I was just there in the downstairs shower getting hard again, thinking about eight minutes ago. Continue reading

Protected: Weekend Journal: Toxic Masculinity

7 Oct

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Protected: Weekend Journal: One More for the Road

30 May

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