Dia De los Muertos and Such.

It's been a minute...

I speak like muhfuckas even read my Moleskine entries. Oh well this shit is cathartic and if I actually did go to a shrink I'd probably end up here eventually. Call it proactive- no acne.

So I'm here in San Diego and it's hella foggy out. My love/hate relationship with fog is two fold; it makes me T.R.O.Y. about my times living in the bay area and all that goodness that accompanies living near one of the coolest cities on the planet, yet sadly, all those memories include a girlfriend of six years that I am no longer with. I still can't figure out if I should be married to her by now or if I should have killed that shit three years earlier. Either way I am singling and mingling at the moment... but it's still nice to come home to a pretty face at night.

Speaking of that evil woman that we shall not name, a couple of months ago I sent her an e-mail saying I was never going to talk to her again and that I was finally getting my life back on track. Of course when she gets that e-mail, she decides to call and re-establish some kind of relationship with me. The intial reaction was "funk that", but I quickly remembered I'm a big kid now and had the "talk" with her after nine months. I could tell she's still in love with me. That feels kinda cool I guess. We're friends to say the least, and I think she's still hoping for the romantic ending where I save her and we get married and have like six kids and live happily ever after. On to the next one...

Now the actual reason for this post, two days ago was the Day of the Dead. I'd bust the spanish translation but nahhhh. I wanted something to commemorate my mothers 's life/death, originally I had planned portraits on my back but decided a sacred heart would be just as dope being that she was catholic and such. Here's what the final product came out as:

Apologies for the plastic wrap, I was bleeding. So now for the rest of my life, I get to look at a really cool tribute to my mother. The banner through the heart reads "Momma's Boy" because sadly I was in fact a momma's boy. I'm happy with the outcome, just imagine what it's gonna look like in about a week when it's healed.

I think Nov. 2nd is a great day to celebrate the death of our loved ones, the day used to scare and confuse me but now that I understand what it means to have loved ones pass away it feels acceptable to participate.

Theme Music- A Tribe Called Quest- 4 Moms.

2U4U

I always imagine that when I meet women in bars the interaction will go like this:

And then I realize that my swag is at -1,000,000,000,000. R.I.P. J-Dilla and Baatin.

It's the mothafuckin Wild Wild West in this bitch.

So check it,

This past weekend something happened and serves as the impetus to get this bloggy blog moving. I decided to go check out this haunted house at the Foothills Mall inside of what used to be a Linen's-n-Things. Quick shout out to the recession for creating such an abandoned building- I digress. So anywho, long story short, I took a tall can straight to the dome, got scurred, and then reclaimed my masculinity throwing axes. There was a hella foine lady in our group so I had to represent. Hella 6th grade right? And while I have a burgeoning crush on her, no I did not throw the axes at her face.

Ok but the real shizz that went down was at the Circle K by my house en route to said Haunted House. Riding with a friend who is highly skeptical about EVERYTHING, we pull into the station so I can get my fade and some Evian no homo. Dude stays in the car, "you aren't getting out?" I say to him. "Fuck no, I ain't trying to get shot in the back of the head! I know someone that died outside of a Circle K," he replies. Shaking my head I leave the car and walk in the gas station.

The man behind me had barely caught the door before it completely closed, and walked in a few paces behind me. He was wearing a fleece pullover, cargo pants, and military boots. Mind you it was like 80 degrees out so I was a tad suspect. In my complete observation of the strange fellow, I notice on his hip is a holstered handgun. I turn to my sister's boyfriend and say "Cool costume, that dude has a airsoft gun strapped to his hip, but I wonder what the costume is?"

"Matt that's not an airsoft gun, that's a 9mm. Lol... airsoft gun." He says.

Turns out homeskillet was in fact strapped- like Weezy strapped. The scary thing is he looked straight off the American History X set, and even more horrifying- he drove a PT Cruiser. I got back in the car and told holmes to peace the fuck outta that Circle K.

Lesson Learned: You can carry toast in public in AZ, and probably in like 45 other states in the country. I miss my home. It's the mothafuckin Wild Wild West in this bitch.

Theme music: Kool Moe Dee- Wild Wild West

Rebirth of Slick...

Cues needle on record...

Since this is my first post on my blog that I've owned for almost two years now, I would like to say hello to the internets and to all the folks that might be reading this (if you subscribe in the future say word)

A California kid recently transplanted to Tucson, AZ, I've learned that I do some weird shit and make offensive and awkward comments at the most inappropriate times. I smoke. I drink. I quote ignorant rap music like it's scripture. My life is fucked up, or at least it feels that way. And lastly, I pick my nose and eat them boogers. Haha, kidding... but seriously. Hello? Still there?

Think of this journal as Rev Run's "God is love" words of advice, but luckily I'm not an old naked bald guy in a bubble bath. I'm actually a 26-year old naked bald guy in a coffee shop. Syke, I'm not bald.