Thursday, April 10, 2014

IC 2944 Running Chicken Nebula // Whatever

"Good things happen 
to those who hustle."
-Anais Nin

Tuesday, March 18, 2014


I realize that in Japan, a lot of these things aren't in the social consciousness, but I would really like to see the following emojis developed:

  • Champagne glass/cork (Necessity)
  • Chinese girl (ME!)
  • Meatloaf
  • Black guy/girl (So I can stop using the moon)
  • Taco 
  • Hotdog 
  • Potato chips 
  • Running girl (I'm always running late)
  • Crab/lobster
  • Yoga mat/yoga pose (Helpful for communicating with R)
  • Pink donut
  • Mexican flag
  • Smiley face with regular glasses
Which ones would you like to see?

Friday, January 17, 2014

Sexy Talk

Do you wanna read about strip clubs and auto-erotic asphyxiation?
Do I even need to ask?

Ayiyiyi, I shouldn't have Googled that last one right before bed.

G'night, kids.

Friday, January 03, 2014


I recently found myself flopping around in a dark basement mainlining Sons of Anarchy. Often times I find myself going through withdrawal -- shakes, diarrhea, sweats -- you name it. Luckily, I have four seasons stashed, which I'm trying to ration and not blow my load and go on another bender.

A few observations after watching seasons one and two:
  1. Is it Ron Perlman as Clay Morrow -- OR -- is it Will Ferrell as Ron Perlman as Clay Morrow?
  2. Maggie Siff's characters always gets to bang the hottest leading males (see: Don Draper)
  3. Taylor Sheridan looks like one he could be one of R's maternal uncles/cousins
  5. Lots of Restylane (Magz, Drea de Matteo, & Peg Bundy) and  not a lot of Botox (Magz again)
  6. Violence level: satisfactory 
  7. Gratuitous sex level: poor (let's hope that things steam up in the next few seasons).
I love you, so no spoilers, OK?

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Venus at the Edge // Happy New Year

“Everything in the universe 
is within you. 
Ask all from yourself.” 


You were so good to me. 
Your memory shall not be forgotten.

Monday, November 18, 2013


There are just some things that cannot be unseen.

Friday, November 08, 2013


: /

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Zeta Oph: Runaway Star // London

It is never too late 
to be what you 
might have been.
-George Eliot

Monday, November 04, 2013

Bondage Bunnies

A regular ol' goddamn Bansky, eh?

art hack by yours truly, an art hack
just kidding, i don't know shit about art.

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

Oh. Sorry. Haven't been updating. 
Too busy hanging out with this bitch.

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Sweet Sorrow

Completely saddened and down trodden that the Best Summer Ever is coming to an end.

2013. Adventures galore. Bachelorette party weekend in Vegas. Pool time in LA with friends and pizza. Bachelorette party in Scottsdale. Pool time in Phoenix. Leather shorts. Handful of fun shows. NovaSure. The most perfect wedding in Costa Rica. (Bride walked down the aisle to WonderWall for fucks sake). Laying around in hammocks. Feeding monkeys. Petting sloths. Hot-tubbin'. Zip linin'. Skinny dippin'. Ol' long johnsonin'. New yoga studio. New friends in Montreal. Dancing the night away. Connecting more than ever with my best friend. Bloody Caesars with chicken wings.  Poutine. Poutine. Poutine.

Not too shabby for managing to squeeze the time of your life into the grind that makes coming down-slash-back all the so much harder.

Monday, July 29, 2013

NGC 3132: The Southern Ring Nebula // JapHats

“Courage is 
resistance to fear, 
mastery of fear, 
not absence of fear.”
-Mark Twain

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Sunday, June 30, 2013

YBIAWL: Part 2 - Cold Feet

Part two of a three part series entitled "Your Body is a Wonderland" dedicated to my maternal grandmother, who graciously allowed me to John Mayer her corpus, in a mostly, nonsexual way.

Growing up in Massachusetts was beautiful. I loved waking up on blustery winter mornings to discover that the snow on the back deck was up to my neck (I was only about 3'7" at the time) and school had been cancelled. I'd bound around outside until I couldn't feel my extremities and had two tiny glimmering snot luges pouring down my face.

Defrosting was another painful story. Teeth still chattering, my grandmother would pluck out my little frozen "dumplings" from underneath the piles of blankets.What she did next was the most altruistic act I can think of anyone doing for anyone, ever.

SIDE BAR: I can only imagine that having four children takes quite the toll on your body. I had heard many legends of my grandmother when I growing up. One that particularly imprinted on me was that by the time my uncle Johnnie was born, she was able to breast feed with him piggyback style by slinging a tit over her shoulder. Not sure how anatomically accurate that is, but what I can say for sure that her tits, were indeed, a magical sanctuary.

She slowly unbuttoned her shirt (I don't think she wore a bra, but if she did, this is the point where she'd take that off, too), lifted up her long, battle-worn breast, nestled my icy foot under, and draped it back over my foot. Her flesh melted down part of my leg. Rinse and repeat with the right sides.

We'd sit there and chat on her twin bed with my feet jammed up under her tits while she chain-smoked. Needles and pins would appear; while the feeling slowly returned. It felt like heaven; it felt like home.

Read Part 1 here

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Post Punk

I didn't sell out;

I bought in.

Thursday, June 06, 2013

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

YBIAWL: Part 1 - The Blue

Part one of a three part series entitled "Your Body is a Wonderland" dedicated to my maternal grandmother, who graciously allowed me to John Mayer her corpus, in a mostly, nonsexual way.

A beautiful, rich, yet translucent hue that's bluer than where the sky meets the ocean. Clear as the lagoon that Brooke Shield's eyebrows and her young tits splashed around in. This little patch of paradise lived right under her eye on top of the plateau of her left cheek bone.

It would move and undulate when she spoke, smiled. Hypnotized by its ocean waves, I'd be filled nervous kinetic energy when I got too close. She would be imparting an important life lesson, I'm sure of it, but I was lost in that spot.

It felt like my birthday, or Christmas morning, when the time would come to take a dive into The Blue.

"Get a tissue," she'd whisper with gravitas.

My tiny body would propel itself to the nearest Kleenex box and ricochet back before she could grab her brass mirror. Hands shaking, I was careful not to compromise the tissue by crumpling it, ripping it, sweating on it, or chewing on it (as I sometimes did as a kid).

The wait was excruciating. I stood at attention but knew better than to rush her. She'd skillfully set her mirror on the nightstand next to her, rusty brass kickstands tilting it up at precisely the right angle.

"Tissue," she motioned, as I sprawled it out in front of her mirror. I had a second sheet behind my back which I promptly shoved in my mouth and packed it under my tongue letting it soften and melt like cotton candy.

Her two pointer fingers touched her cheek. At first just gently prodding around The Blue, then with more force and pressure. A large white tube snaked out of her face as I squealed with glee and helicoptered around the room. She'd press again and more would erupt. This happened five or six more times.

A million questions swirled (presented are three) I caught my breath from the excitement:
If she kept squeezing would her brains come out?How could anything like to live inside my sweet old grandmother's head?What was in my head?
Of course, as I learned early on, that all good things, such as birthdays, holidays... I'd have to wait for the appropriate cycle, season before we could dive into The Blue again.

Read Part 2 here