So, most of this content was assembled recently in the year 2021, and the full version of Voices in my Head the memoir has not been completely digitized.
Most of this other content is lyrics or short stories which take place between the years 2018 and 2021. I hope to digitize my entire first memoir, Brave and have it available on here before the end of the calendar year.
If you are like me, I prefer print copies. If you have any interest in purchasing a written copy of any of my work please contact me directly at email@example.com.
That address can also be used for any tattoo inquiries, music collaboration and event booking. I also am a freelance stand up comedian, so hit me up and prepare to be offended.
A big shout out to the NYC based Hip-Hop/Rap duo called The Underachievers for the inspiration for Third Eye Gang.
Voices In My Head
By Henry Griffin
Black lives matter, Hispanic lives matter, Native American lives matter, Caucasian lives matter, European lives matter, Asian lives matter, African lives matter, Australian lives matter, Antarctican lives matter, North Pole lives matter, South American lives matter, Alien lives matter, and all matter is alive, vibrating with electron energy. All matter matters. Imagine love. And Jesus forgave Lucifer to open up Heaven to Hell, world peace at last. Praise Jesus and hail Lucifer.
“This is all God’s doing, man, you can’t plan it. If the Devil’s in the details then I’m Satanic.” (“Sneakin’”, Drake)
Dear Drake & Future,
Thank you for “Life Is Good”.
“I haven’t done my taxes, I’m too turned up.” (“Life is Good”, Drake)
“Just cooling man, hundred thousand for the cheapest ring on my finger. Dropped three karats on the pinky ring, call it Bentley truck.” (“Life is Good”, Future)
“They came up on my side, now they on the other side. Oh well, forget them, bro, we’re going to see how hard they try. I gave racks to boy outside then I split it with the 6od. 6 God, Blocboy.” (“Look Alive”, Drake)
“Nobody wins when the family feuds. Everybody’s got to eat, we can’t exclude anyone.” (“Family Feud”, Drake)
“Keke, do you love me?” (“Keke Do You Love Me”, Drake)
“A lot of people sneakin’ and dissin’. Talk about mistakes? Not on this end.” (“Sneakin’”, Drake)
Dear Drake & Future,
Thank you for “What A Time To Be Alive”.
“I know how to cook it. My girl good looking. Taliban.” (“Digital Dash”, Future)
“Jump man, them boys up to something. Lobster for the women that united us. I see them tweaking, they know something’s coming. She was trying to join the team, I told her, “Wait.” I had to buy another safe. Jump when I say jump girl, can you take direction? Way too much codeine and adderall. Jumpman just spent two or three weeks out the country.” (“Jumpman”, Drake)
“First I got married to money. Couple commas, made a purchase. You do what you want when you got it. Repping the set like a soldier. Then I fell in love with the dirty. Caught a wave, I didn’t surf it. Like the smell of the money when it burns.” (“Jersey”, Future)
“You know you’re at the top when only Heaven’s right above it, we on.” (“Right Above It”, Drake)
“Percocet, molly, percocet: mask off.” (“Mask Off”, Future)
“I’m at the studio with Puff, got Kaepernick on the phone, we’ve got Super Bowl goals, we in a whole different mode.” (“Family Feud”, Drake)
Alice Cooper wrote, “I never thought Nikki Sixx would live beyond the third Mötley Crüe album. People like me, Bowie and Elton John were professional abusers but Nikki went further than us- he used needles, which we never dared to do. I knew Jim Morrison well and Nikki reminded me a lot of him. When Jim died at twenty-seven, we weren’t shocked because he had died; we were shocked that he had got that far in the first place.”
“Started not to give a fuck and stopped fearing the consequence.” (“Headlines”, Drake)
“What the fuck is time?” (“Thoughts From A Balcony”, Mac Miller)
“Six 6od Blocboy.” (“Look Alive”, Drake)
“I want this shit forever main. Shuttin’ shit down in the mall. Telling that girl she’s the one for me.” (“Forever”, Drake)
“Young Money mother fucker, if you ain’t running with it run from us mother fucker we own.” (“Right Above It”, Drake)
“He should own half of the label, shit out of control.” (“Family Feud”, Drake)
“They don’t see me ‘less I pull up Lamborghini. Every body want to be me ‘til I pull up and they meet me.” (“Lil’ Kennedy”, Lil Peep)
“Take me away from here, everybody’s so fake everybody’s so fake I swear. But I don’t want to go back there, everybody’s so fake, everybody acts like they care. Everybody acts like they care, why the fuck do everybody act like they care? I was dying and nobody was there. Everybody’s so fake, everybody acts like they care.” (“Runaway”, Lil’ Peep)
CURRENT EDITION IN PROGRESS HERE
PLEASE TAKE CAUTION AS THE FLOOR IS WET
In the midst of all these flavorless snacks I enable my stats to explain where I’m at. I might not yet have enough to get estrogen doses but my courage is hopeful for those who feel hopeless. I wrote this: a trauma survivor.
I used to spit riddles to instrumentals. Now I eat Skittles and fix mentals. I am a rock star incarnate. Get it? A rock on fire is a star like a comet. I used to starve till I’d vomit. Now I write books to create knowledge. I used to compare. Now my literature is the way that I care. My presence is a blessing. I could never sacrifice my left wing. I used to address foes. Now I use my imagination to undress clothes.
It’s been a long ride. I used to California roll every stop sign. I used to fear others. Now I have great rapport with my mother. I wouldn’t trade it for a reefer high. I used to vehemently seek to die. I prevent personal catastrophes. My greatest weapon is credible blasphemy. I write like Christopher Nolan screenplays. I still have mad respect for Ab-Soul’s album “These Days”.
I used to quickly type and tweet. Now I write for hours without the desire to speak. I respect everyone’s recovery. I used to grill at McDonald’s so please keep lovin’ me. I ask for fuel without expectation. Serendipity gives me endless instant gratification. This is literally continual. I’m still obsessed with the metaphysical. Why would I speak to a loose lipped human? Sierra J. Mott, Henry’s bars keep zoomin’.
Everybody needs an advocate. If you ask me, everybody needs a bad acid trip. Ask me if you mean it in a gentle way. I don’t even dance, I just pretend to play. I have a legacy of fantasy and hope. I am probably the only spirit that is actually woke. I’ve got hands and plans and fans from Japan. If you ride for me, well, you’re my mothafuckin’ man. I cast not jewels to the skimpy or the stingy phonies. I might not own a home but I have so many homeys. I never have a moment with a lack of inspiration. I also live my life as if I’m in constant meditation.
I thank Elon Musk for helping me minimize. I have the ability to write and hypnotize. I never doubt decisions, I try repeatedly. I’ve always been here whenever anyone needed me. I had to be resourceful, I owe this all to hope. I really don’t like people who can’t take a joke. I set the example for a life without wrong. I literally have recorded at least a thousand songs. Shouts to Bree in California, if it weren’t for the shrooms then you and me definitely would share a bedroom. If you need answers, read and you will find: I have found the method to live with limitless time.
Sugar highs and crashes have me like a diabetic. If it’s over your head then you just won’t get it. Misunderstood and vilified, I have been both. Now my hands like Jaden Smith, you don’t want smoke. I can take a lesson and turn it to a teach. I practice and I write, I do not preach. Anyone can talk a lot, hide behind a contract. I can freak you out like a wide eyed wombat. I am still victorious, no violent crimes. I am still notorious, girls: get in line.
What’s a ticket at, like, thirty six bitcoin? What ever it is, I hope every body enjoys. Why people are thirsty can be easily explained. They can reproduce so it’s always on the brain. Did you know your skin absorbs every thing you touch? Since Covid Nineteen it’s like every body’s drunk. If you try to put me down I just stand up taller. I’m not from Baltimore but I am a young baller. I shine, I’m a star, for my eyes are so bright. All my competition really has no life. If you reproduce, I really hate to say, that you will come back until you live the right way. All these fake adults, they only complain, then they chalk it up to “love” on the brain.
All these story tellers have nothing original. Every thing they think is every thing physical. In a room full of people I’m the only one who sees deeper visuals, no bullets in my gun. In Virginia it is sad for people dog each other. We would all be better off if everyone shot each other. When it comes to reproduction we should stop each other. Everyone looks at screens, they don’t even watch each other.
Is it sad or is it sick or is it just human nature? Evolution literally proves that there is no creator. Most people on their death bed believe in a fairy tale. I have met death, we know each other very well. So, if we turned the internet off right now: the whole entire globe would literally shut down. I will be fine, maybe head to the mountains. Then there’s no value in the bottom of a fountain.
Don’t chase the carrot or the dream to retire. Read the books I write from the other side of the fire. I’ve been to hell and heaven, and the truth that I’ll say is that Biggie had a child, I regret my Faith. Once I serve my sentence, if I get to die, I will be the first person on the other side. Self pity literally is so outdated. No offense but so is monogamous dating. I like being bored, I’m always at rest. It’s always the other person who’s obsessed with sex.
If you knew that a child would mean you had to live again, would you think twice about sticking it in? Short term gain with a long term price: every single parent will see a lot of long nights. If you murder a human there’s no eternal punishment. Usually you’re rewarded since they’re reborn from a mother ship. I’m so into drama, you’re so into hype. Me? I love Santana and Chad’s “Into The Night”.
Cry me a river and play the violin. I miss my time in jail: especially the violence. Time flies fast for me and man, I love it. I just do my thing and increase the budget. Why so sad, like, is this what you changed for? Cos I got clean to fucking jump out of planes more! People say I changed, yeah, I did, and you stayed the same. The difference between us is that I have no shame. Masks got the masses acting like a bitch. These bitches not even bad, they prolly bad at sucking dick!
I’m Richard H. with the Dick, bitch. She alone cos she don’t know how to face Dick. Wipe your nose, you got make up on your face bitch. Fake Louis bag, yeah, I know you ain’t Rich. Yeah, yeah, yeah yea!
She never been in porn. I fuck her till that pussy torn. Y’all been fuckin’ warned. Now she gettin’ warm.
Bitch I been a thug since day one. Fuck her in the face till her face numb. But she gotta wait twenty eight bruh. Fuck her to the bank, Ima take tons. Claiming she Rich like she into it. Where were you at at my sentence, bitch, with the penmanship? Keeping my job, speaking my mind. I been alive on my grind. She gonna weep if I die. Work on my cells. Can’t let no hottie get into my mind or be trickin’ my energy, with the sentences.
A Virginia ten is a California two.
I keep my mind uncompromised. I won’t let some body rent space in my mind, it’s bad form my health. I felt suicidal in shotgun of my poppa’s old school Escalade. I just let it escalate. I’m sure that most people reading this can agree that expensive things really aren’t deep. Please add the word “gilded” to your vocabulary. Entertainers in America suffer from shopping like children in Africa suffer from Malaria.
Brand names act as campaigns for baggage. I my self had a really toxic spending habit. It’s not about the clothes you inhabit or the soles or the fashion. It’s about the person and their passion, that’s what’s most attractive. A lot of people buying a copy of this book, already understand the surface is not where you look. For me this is a recent discovery, a new development, it has been a hard discussion with myself and an even harder move to outwardly discuss it. I’m a radical optimist. My mindstate on the medicine I take is always sunny. This planet is my home, my yard, my neighborhood.
My dad is my creator. I’m major. I turn rain into shine. I’m major. I been praying to Allah. I don’t know who’s talking back. Prolly just my thoughts. You know who I am by my clothing and my walk. I hit the women’s section when I shop. Flock!
I’m speaking service at the same time I write a circus. I have the bunnies for the boys but I’m focused on better choices. Silence is not the answer, it’s conniving. What the people really need is diets. Not anonymous faces, voices. This is really how we make a difference. Got the loving for the friends and the foes. I write solutions when I pen a sentence. Silence Dogood, Paul Revere: we all messengers. I don’t have to cut off my ear. I live on land, I never fear. I have the keys: infinity is near.
I’m that feeling that you get when you eat a hot dog from Sonic: shit, man. I’ve got big plans. I’m a Dick, I know. Just jam. I’m a Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick. I’m a man about it. I’m a man cos I eat it all day. Free hot dogs from a church hallway: I eat them like a fire eats logs with flame. This is ten percent I don’t give a fuck, twenty percent game. Fifteen percent effort in the frontal lobe of my brain. Five percent letters, fifty percent strange. A hundred percent treason in a black parade. This for the dumb believers who believe in guilt and shame.
Read my book, you know it’s more lit than the first human fire. Take a look at my creative attire. Young Kurt Cobain with the mind state. Young serve Diet Coke like Darth Scar Face. West family skull flames when I broke chains. Newports out tha window when I smoke things. These are the Voices In My Head while I’m better off. I saw off heads with a cigarette drop. My guillotine thoughts hold coup d’etats. I serve Coca-Cola like Colombian crops. The pen is sharper than a serrated knife. I threatened Eminem in the best battle of my life.
I ride like a gryphon in a Herbie colored bug. I’m bickin’ back boolin’ just like Matthew Bainbridge thee Young Thug. I was born Rich for these trials and medications. I was born to serve stimuli without hesitations. I was born to be the Union versus segregation. I was born to put red coats in connection with devices for respiration. This is “Gasoline” featuring Matthew “Semi” “Classic” David Simulation. I’m a real “Road Warrior” with Nashville destinations.
Bennett Heidelberger on the ukelele. I’ve been a Bob Marley Wailer “Beamerboy”. I used to get chauffeured in Paul Hampton’s white Mercedes. Bose in the speakers to scream out “TRASHWANG”!!! Now I’m in a bucket and I’m shouting out TREYWAY!!!
Trap trap golf swang. Clack clack Richard Gang! I ride for my Drake, one time he put me on his Snapchat, walking with two models with the ass fat. I hope Draco Malfoy remembers that. I’m a Richard Rosser Sirbaugh insomniac. Jay John Fox Cee Oh put out a helluva woke loud cloud track. Have I lost any time?
I Caleighfornia California roll every stop sign. Kevin Hart saw Mac Miller tell a joke at the V.M.A.s. He made an ass. Kevin Irvin better remember that. If the door is kicked in then Earl hoodie is my kin. The only thing I have in Common with Eminem is bad parenting and drug addiction. Thank you Annabelle Albecker for letting me in. I’m so grateful for kratom helping me embrace my side that’s feminine.
I should have gotten off the Greyhound at Long Beach. That dread loc queen liked my Satanic speech. I could make Mona Lisa Meneau moan and squirt. I deserve a Wu-Tang Clan throne for desert. I used to traffic courtier time zones. I am Ghetto Royalty, the streets are my home I’ve been shown. Buccaneer is a derogatory label for a Mac Miller Pirate. Limewire and uTorrent helped me change the violence. Mac Dre has a legacy of almost four gigabytes. Big L’s “Ebonics” helps me flamboyantly fight. Young Buck taught me prices and how to be a genius. Pablo Escobar and Young Taylor help me not think with my penis.
Jonah Hill’s diet could help his Wale ambitions. As a flyer rider I walk and you can’t miss him. Call me what you want, how did I get there? Sia and ODESZA enjoy sunning on lawn chairs. Money and gasoline are both very cheap. Call up Russell Brand and fucking get him to the freak. Follow me to the morgue in Catalina, California. I play Monopoly with kryptic Curren$y, I tried to warn ya.
I might try every fire arm as long as mine exist. I used to want to tattoo a rain Bowie fist. Reverse racism is out dated and lame. I put my third leg right above Chelsea’s brain. Chinese holidays are properly long. I say, “Hail Lucifer.” I do no wrong.
I am the white black panther. Yes, I have the answers. Lizzy Hale of Halestorm and Lindsey Stirling are both my “Tiny Dancer”s. Elton John’s writer made most of the profit. I consider myself the most notorious prophet. I picked the pen up, just to drop it. My aunt in Princeville has a property in the Kaui, Hawaii tropics. GothBoiClique has priestesses in low places. Boom Shaka Laka Vibe is known to tattoo “Faces”.
I am a usual suspect with my house made of Joker cards. I am as notorious as Napoleon Bonaparte. Talk to me, I’ll leave your brain blown apart. Evolution is a law so there was no floating ark. I am “Jaws” on an ocean shark. I eat bull’s eyes without throwing darts. This is when I’m sober and supernova smart. This is my hopeful romance, it’s dark. This is my open Edgar Allen Poe throbbing, bleeding heart. Michael McKiernan: thanks for showing me Osama Bin Laden’s art.
Navy Seal Team 666 can’t touch agent no I.D. turned John Doe to Paul with a pee. I said a question, “How do you feel baby?” She laughed half crazy like R. Kelly’s lady. Lately I been grossing several fans. I’m The Dirty Dogg when I’m in a catscan. “The Doggfather” trumps Bombay and Tropicana. “The Chronic 2001” made the prequel Santa Ana. I would shit on the Alamo Draft and sell Texas to Mexico for a billion, or half. Every single school needs Spanish Language Arts. School should also teach children Martial Arts.
If the law knew Karate, maybe one day we could leave our guns at home for minutes of the day. Just stay alive. Maybe these idiots can make things right. There goes my hero. Watch him as he goes. You found a man who gives a damn and treats you well. I just want to see a beach and surf a swell. Hey, you’re “Crazy Bitch”. You fuck so well I’m on top of it. You just get me like I’ve never been gotten before. I would catch a grenade for you.
I’m proud to be a Native American and to the men and women of our armed forces: thank you for your sacrifice. I haven’t even lived a quarter of my life and the way I live, radically optimistic, is alright. The bigger the body, the sweeter the fruit. I’m indestructible and undead. I’m a super star on the boulevard. I’ve got to sleep I’m Caleighfornia “California Dreaming”. “Headstrong”, I’ll take you on. “Headstrong”, I’ll take on anyone. I know that you are wrong. I’m Trapt in my favorite song.
If you’re looking for me I be on the block with my team. Spock, possibly sitting in a drop top. I’m a Ridah, I’m a “Soul Survivor”. In my “Burning Heart” I have vibes of Young Dolph or Mike Tyson’s Bengal Tiger. Catch me in the ocho, nada, cinco. Big ups to Kelly Washington and my Sherando Brave Warrior American Football Camp. My name’s lit up like a lamp. I told Eddie Malikilikimaka with my “Dead Poet Society” Robin Williams Ulysses S. Grant.
I get Playboy bunnies and I know it. Vaporizer in my pocket, I just pull it and blow it. Cos I’m a Ridah. I will never retire. Ben Franklin, man, he used to shoot Coke. Marie Antionette was a he who liked to powder his nose. She treats me like a Bennyay Sensei with box braids running “Circles” with my feng shui. I be on my Harvard Dent game. I saw Michael Jordan dunk in Rucker Park, man, I wish my astral form had my knock off GoPro.
My alcohol sobriety clean date is June tenth of two thousand nineteen. My narcotic clean date is March nineteenth of two thousand twenty one. It’s all about perspective. “I sold some tickets to come see my down fall. It sold out in minutes, I saw friends in the front row. They’ll leave when I’m finished and the lights in my name’s gone cos the ones who gas you up only come around when the flame’s on.” (“Tickets To My Downfall” (Intro), MGK)
I like my music real. I like my music loud. I like the way I feel. I like the way I’m proud. “I walk this lonely road, the only road that I have ever known.” (“Boulevard of Broken Dreams”, Green Day) Woah! Keith! Look at this rock! These days I been walking down on the loneliest road I know. Woah. “Every one knows I’m in over my head.” (“Over My Head (Cable Car)”, The Fray) “I would have stayed up with you all (day n’) night had I known how to save (your) a life.” (“How To Save A Life”, The Fray)
I’m on my pursuit of happiness, life, and liberty. If we on this globe do not stand, sit, walk, and run together then we might hang ourselves, shoot ourselves, cut ourselves, and over dose ourselves separately. Beast mode. Mutha fuckas bout to get hit with so many foul lines you figured it was a free show. You bout to get out written and dethroned. I stay ten toes down. I’m a sucker, I bleed woke. IV Ativan figured it was free dope. Got anointed with oil when they see hope. Bradley Hill and Russ need quotes.
This is the thirteenth disciple of Mohammad, Siddhartha, and Satan leading chariots to burn down parishes. This is offline chairmanship. I’m in a yellow, gay submarine. I want to rub your feet eighteen days a week. I’m discussing literature with a white girl wasted on a Versace Starbucks cup of Folgers in my left hand. I used to urinate on bibliotheques and practice masturbation. Now I script memoirs and practice masturbation.
I take medications and enjoy invigorating precious women during their menstruation. Welcome to my self to self from self to self conversation. It’s just myself, myself, and myself. There are over 500 ways to make a record that wrecks balls into Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus’s exploration. Don’t make me play the Trunk Muzik red lights for Pimp C. I told her, “Baby, save that shit.” Follow me like we’re lying on grandma’s down goose feather bed. Okay, you’re a blood, but what the fuck is a gangster to a Flatbush Zombie?
Lions and gryphons don’t speak opinions of sheep. On the road of bad intentions, money’s shredding from my cleats. Joseph Rogan, I sniffed dimethyltryptamine. Now I lucid astral project dream. Back at fifteen I had woken up. Back at sixteen I had cried. Back at seventeen got some pussy so the virgin in me died. Back at eighteen I was grown up. Back at nineteen I was fine. Back at twenty I had money and I fucked my first guy.
Back at twenty one I was drinking and I had a shitty time. At twenty two I was patient and learned how to bide. Back at twenty three I had sex with many loves of my life. At twenty four I was suicidal and wanted a knife. Now the best word to describe me is a four letter word: “nice”. Hey, T Malicious, did you ever use the Tony Montana Louis Vuitton background with the brown and gold which I cropped the cannabis leaf onto? I sure hope so, that shit FYRE like a festival.
We all con men and women pitching our genitalia. I’m ten percent gay and ninety percent in love with labia. Catch us next Tuesday. Now we’re talkin’. On April 22nd, 2021 I spoke with and got a friend request from my Lebanese Islamic connection. Semantics is how you speak, linguistics is the words you choose. According to Mos Def or Talib Kweli, “80% of communication is nonverbal.” To me this refers to inflection and physical behavior, also known as body language.
Visual information is more dense than auditory speech, hence why I write books. So much of communication is subliminal. Listen to The Sugarhill Gang. Play the song “Cocaine” by Royce da 5’9” on his album “Book of Ryan”. Only thing I saw was a bag of cocaine. Say what? I’m losing my mind dealing with cocaine. Now let’s talk about my Godfather, My Allahfather, my B.I.G. Poppa, Paul Hampton. He loves us, his family, more than cocaine.
I was genetically destined to drink like a fish. It’s been almost two years since I touched that shit. I also love drugs, I decided to quit. I’m still on a whole bunch of chemical shit. I’d take caffeine and nicotine over some jailable shit. I’d take Seroquel, Lithium, and Depakote over that Fentanyl sniff. My mind tells stories, I’ve got so much to tell. I wrote these words, I’ve got so much to sell. I used to do drugs to get my parents in a room together. Even if it was only for a lecture. Only once the drugs are done do I feel like dying. I feel like dying. I don’t care if it hurts you, I have control.
I’m so fucking special and I’m a geek. I’m a freak ho. I know what I’m doing here. Hail Lucifer here. It’s not my time, I’m not dying. I’m feeling free, it’s not over. Your drugs were killing me and I’m the only one who started over. Baby, I’m going on living. I had a loaded gun with some bullets, but I put that shit back and I didn’t decide to pull it. I’m not paralyzed but I came pretty close to it. I can tell that your body wants me just like I want you. It’s the start of something new.
If the McShin Foundation in Richmond, Virginia wants to expand the ASAM profiles of participants and provide evidence based services, it would be helpful for Americorp, The McShin Foundation, and Dr. Amen’s Amen Clinics in Reston, Virginia to collaborate and provide access to SPECT brain scan imaging. Grand money could become available. The participants of McShin, present and future, would be an ideal research study group to help understand the nature of the condition called Substance Use Disorder.
My clinical definition of Substance Use Disorder is:
A serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine deficiency and or a likely under development of the brain’s prefrontal cortex, especially if the brain is still developing.
Thank you Michael Key and Jordan Peele. “Bonus track! I shot Darnell. I shot him with my nine. I shot him nine times on December 9th! Coincidence.” Thank you Dave Chapelle. “I wrote six. They published four. You know what’s a lot harder to walk away from than Jeffrey Epstein masturbating? Fifteen million dollars.” Play “State of Lunacy” by Rhyme Asylum. Play “Paid My Dues” by NF.
“Bin Laden, been with this head wrapping shit. Make that 38 squirt. 51 at 50, bitch I’m crazy like my net worth. Student. Make a pupil educated.” (“Been A Problem”, Yelawolf)
With all my mixtapes I should have been Grammy nominated. Don’t mean to brag and boast, but I’m in savage mode. I grew up in the streets with no heart. So much Diet Coke that it broke the scale. Cocaine kills but Diet Coke sells. Man it’s been a minute since I seen my momma’s tit. Ever since I was 6 months, I been hustlin’ on my shit. Trust and respect is what I do this for.
You didn’t have to take him to bed. Caleigh, you and Andrew didn’t have to have sex. You didn’t have to kiss him again. Don’t fuck with my love. I don’t mind if you ruin my life. Tunnel vision has you being the only love I see. Why do all of your monsters get in your thighs? Tell me that you love me even if it’s fake. Why do I run back to you? Why am I a sucker for all your lies?
You’re in my head. Even without you I still feel dead. Why do I miss your size? Why are you the love of my life? I just wish I didn’t fucking care. I wonder what’s on your mind. I feel like it’s over. I can’t walk away. I already gave my heart away. Did you love me or did you love the money? Did you love me or did you love the fame? Did you love me or did you love the drugs?
Did you love me or did you love the thrill? Did you love me or did you love the tour? Did you love me or did you love the hustle? Did you love me or did you love my energy? Did you love Richard or did you love Henry? Did you love me or did you love all of the names? Did you love me or did you love the things? Did you love me or did you love the tattoos?
Did you love me or did you love my scars? Did you love me or did you love my story? Did you love me or did you love to punch me? Did you love me or did you love to fuck me? Did you love me or did you love to hug me? Did you love me or did you love to touch me? Did you love me or did you love my book?
Did you love me or did you love the author? Did you love me or did you love the rapper? Did you love me or did you love the actor? Did you love me or did you love the fact that I cannot be a father? Did you love me or did you love your father? Did you love me or did you love the clothes? Did you love me or did you love the shows? Did you love me or did you love to powder your nose? Did you love me or did you love my hair? Did you love me or did you love my piercings?
Did you love me or did you love the shower? Did you love me or did you love sleeping for hours? Did you love me or did you love the cannabis flowers? Did you love me or did you love the milk? Did you love me or did you love the orange juice? Did you love me or did you love my antidepressants? Did you love me or did you love the Voices In My Head?
Did you love me or did you love the things I said? Did you love me or did you love my jokes? Did you love me or did you love what I wrote? Did you love me or did you love my bravery? Did you love me? Did you read my book?
I left a copy in the book bag back pack as you sat in the manager’s office of Papa John’s in Charles Town, West Virginia at about 1530 hours on March the 2nd of 2021. Did you read it?
How long you been talking to Andrew on the LG G8 from Xfinity Mobile? I know you had wifi at every Xfinity wifi everywhere in America. Did you and Daniel Lashley coordinate my arrest, Caleigh Marie Perry? Am I wasting time? Maybe I’m a waste of time. Maybe I should fucking die. I can feel the greed building as I approach two weeks at McShin. They think they have me trapped but I have California friends. Don’t make me run 2,000 miles away again. I will. Fuck you.
Tell me you miss me then. If you don’t love me you better fucking pretend. This is not a game. It’s my fucking emotions. I just cursed with massive devotion. Baby, I’m heart broke, broke, and broken. I wish my oxygen supply could decline by choking. Fuck you cunt, bitch, whore. Your body count so high that I needed fentanyl to qualify. Why the fuck do I even try? I know exactly how to get to the Greyhound from here. I can be free of you fucking judgemental southern Commonwealth of Virginia pieces of shit.
I couldn’t care less about you. I just wish I didn’t exist. Why does every girl in my life run away? Fuck you China, Tara, Courtney Harris, Brogan, Caleigh, Sydney, Anna, Alexis, Braden, Megan, Mailee, McKayla, McKenna, Tucker, Carleigh, Olivia, Brittany, Sierra, Angie, and all you other worthless should-have-been-aborted cum stains.
“Take me away from here. Everybody’s so fake. Everybody acts like they care.” (“Runaway”, Lil’ Peep)
Thank you for the messenger identified as John Shinholser.
Hate has no home here. Persecution leads to chaos. Why do Christians kill Muslims? Persecution. Why do Muslims kill Christians? Persecution. Why did Nazis kill jews? Persecution.
Persecution is the manifestation of hate. Hate is the manifestation of intolerance. Intolerance is the manifestation of judgement. Judgementalism is hate. Love has more allies than hate. Jesse Wysocki is a hateful person. Just because he created many children who he cannot support is not only not my fault, it is not my problem. I refuse to tolerate persecution. At 24 years old in the year 2021, LGBTQ members still experience violence.
Violence is persecution. Suicide is often caused by persecution. The drug war and drug treatment and drug recovery organizations all perpetually make money from suicide, which always stems from deeper issues. Narcotics and Alcoholics Anonymous both have highly paid 501(c)3 members in New York City and California. When people die from suicide, these organizations grow in size and thus in financial capacity.
My issue is gender identity. I don’t know what the fuck I am. I identify as female, knowing that I have experienced violence in Eastern Regional Jail and Sexual Assault in Winchester Medical Center. In the McShin Foundation there are a few quiet allies who will advocate for LGBTQ rights. One is the right to be treated just like everyone else.
I just want to live. This is a basic human right. So many movements like Black Lives Matter and LGBTQ Pride are important, but if it is too “extra”, those of us just wanting to be treated like a normal person instead of like a “queen” sometimes have a hard time with all the rainbow flags and black fists. Symbolism and stereotypes kill people. Just because I paint my nails does not mean that I am promiscuous. Just because my hair is long does not mean I curl or straighten it every day.
Just because I wear short athletic shorts does not mean that I want you to look at my ass. Just because I wear a thong does not mean I want you to fuck me. Just because I wear a bra does not mean I want breast implants. Just because I carry a purse does not mean I want a vagina.
I still want friends. I still want to feel emotionally loved. I still want to feel confident. I still want to be creative. I still want to feel normal. I still want to be appreciated. I still want hope. I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m still young. I’m still fucking 24.
I still want to be President in 2033. I still think that’s a realistic goal. I still hate my mother for having me. I still hate my father for fucking her. I still yell when I’m hurt. I still get angry when I’m hurt. I still hope you want me to live. I still want you to live. I’m just glad Lauren Bradley is still alive. I’m just glad I get to see her face in person. I’m so glad she’s not just on a screen. I’m so glad she’s not a name on the wall.
The wall at McShin is like the book at Edgehill, a collection of names of those who died early. If you ask me in a good mood, I’d say everyone dies early. If you catch me when I’m hurt and angry I might say it couldn’t happen soon enough.
So, I remember when I first saw Lauren Bradley, I was in a 90-day rehab and had just come back to Virginia from being homeless in California for five months. I came to McShin for the first time with my Godfather, Paul Hampton for a two day recovery coach training facilitated by John Shinholser and David Rook .
Bleach blonde hair with a Luray, Virginia country accent didn’t make any fucking sense, but neither did my brown hair I shaved myself with eyebrow slits and racing stripes on the sides. Oh well. I was so nervous and shell-shocked, and probably hearing voices that I couldn’t muster the courage to ask Lauren for her number. Maybe it was the fact that the rehab only let me have a flip phone and I was just flat out embarrassed. Yeah, we’ll go with that.
Any way, when our last class concluded and I was sure I would never see her again, I asked my Godfather to ask her for her number for me. I think he played it off as professional. Either way: I got them digits. When I called her on that flip phone and she answered, her tweaker angel witchy voice with that twang on the other end, I was hooked. This was about March of 2018. This is April 22nd of 2021. Here we are.
Her brother has since passed, and I look nothing like my former self, but she’s here, has a heartbeat, and so do I. Thank you Klay! I love you bro!
Talk about trippy. I mean: psychedelic. I mean: witchy. I mean: eerie. I mean: fantastic. Plus, I saw Lewah Nazzerdine today. Every where that I go I know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who may or may not allegedly know me.
“Why do all the monsters come out at night? I don’t care if you ruin my life.” (“Monsters”, All Time Low)
I’m so glad I can’t see far away, like at all. It helps me be way more confident. I know people look at me, I just can’t see that far and I don’t give a fuck. I’d much rather have a face to face with someone. Most dope clique you can trust my script. At least I’m authentic. A true artist.
“I’m a muthafuckin’ renegade, I drove by the fork in the road and went straight.” (“Renegade (feat. Eminem)”, Jay-Z)
Bitch, I play Kevin Gates at Heaven’s gate and go the other fuckin’ way! Bitch I’m back in black ink tatts.
Bre: (540) 846-4028
Chloe: (804) 908-4099
Why do all the gangsters come out at night? To put the green light on you, red beam like a laser. In the scope of things, all my brothers look sick as fuck.
Look back and you see me watching booty like a movie.
She heard I get that money so she wanna make a movie.
I go R. Kelly on Kardashian movies.
Look back and you see me watching booty like a movie (I said!) x2
I just bought a brick
For my man Lil’ Peep.
I’m so fuckin’ dope
That they call me Lil’ Peep. (I said!) x2
I shitted with my bladder last time I’m mad at matter. Took the hat off Hatter, went as rabid as a bachelor. Alice in a chalice but I’m chained to all my patterns. Have to have it badder, stuck my bat in bloody batter. I’m A.M.F. to death. Adios, mutha fucka!
“Deems, I need it: dmt I be on a trip: feens, I see ‘em, every night and we serve that shit; selling methadone just to buy another sub; if you don’t know my lingo you don’t know wassup.” (“Deems”, The Devil)
“My biggest flops are your greatest hits.” (“Killshot”, Eminem)
I’m beginning to feel like a Death God. This book is my Death Note. I am Lucifer, Sun of the Mourning. I have taken you all to Earth. I will take my team to Mars. Put the Lucky Brand jeans in a back pack and walk out that store because that’s how you get fuckin’ rich in rap. It’s not lit. It’s not dope. It’s not shit. I spent so much hours and time, and get nothing for a rhyme. Every tattoo is a mark of Lucifer. I own you.
Black men work for thee Illuminati. The light of Lucifer guides the way. Six six six with the face tatts. Rats tryna take cheese from the trap. What is Trap music? Trap music is Teflon John crack music. Back in black music. Rap game, trap game, crack game: same thing.
“My mansion sittin’ on 40 acres. Who da neighbors? Kobe Bryant from the Lakers. Now that’s paper.” (“Who Da Neighbors”, Juicy J)
So, real shit, why is everyone so obsessed with me? And everybody sang, “Lucifer, Sun of the Mourning, take us off this earth!”
You can’t really bribe your way out of this. All ticket sales are final and non-refundable regardless of if there ever is a show. Kindly fuck uff. Bitch.
“I’m flyer than Errbody. Helicopter in the middle of the hood. I’m flyer than Errbody. Put some blood on the street buy some red bottoms.” (“Errbody”, Lil’ Baby)
I would feel so much better if she would drop dead. Do re mi fa so fucking done with you, bitch. Pay me back or trick it’s over. Cocaine cut with baking soda. You got me thinking lately that tricks are crazy. My tricks are so bad that they get in the trunk when I ask nicely. The third rule of Fight Club is that if it is your first time at Fight Club, you have to fight. There goes my hero, Klay, watch him as he goes.
Gold chains on, blood shot caller still alive. Karma is a beach and she’s sunny. Patrick Henry will tittie fuck Bre. I’m bool with everybody. I did this all for me. Look what I fucking bleed. I make Voldemort moves in my dreams. Death to others happens when I burn books and paper with names. Pac, where you at? You Patrick with hat tricks in all of your facts. The first and the last, the gangster disciple. I have Eazy Mac trap gods with rifles.
“It’s just me, myself and I. Solo ride until I die cos I’ve got me for life. I don’t need anything to get me thru the night. Cos the music does me good and it gets me every time.” (“Me Myself and I (feat. Bebe Rexha)”, G-Eazy)
Ba, ba pa ba ta ba, get me thru tonight, cos this music’s in my soul and it gets me thru my life. This far as I can see I just need privacy. Plus a whole lot of tree. Honestly I just need piracy. Bitches my property, they watch and acknowledge me. Honestly I just need space to do me in this world that I’m trynna see. Fuck all your modesty. I can see irony. Plus a whole lot of lies laying my body to sleep.
I wanna be whatever I wanna be. I just be LGBT and my people they die for me. I just want peace. I just want peace, plus a whole lot of greed honestly I just see property. Plus all these properties, it’s him and I until I die. “Wake me up. Wake me up inside. Call my name and save me from myself.” (“Bring Me To Life”, Evanescence)
“And I know I may end up failing.” (“Numb”, Linkin Park)
And I know they all are just hypnotized. You just see me wear the crown. Do not fucking come around. Profound professional with pronouns. Oh, wow. Shut the fuck up or overdose when you go out. I will write this dope until I overdose. And I go, and I go, and I go, “Guillotine….. BRAT!” Bloods at the door just now. Thugs on skate boards asking me where they should put the claymores.
Klay, morse code is my tick tock vendetta. I kill the queen like Koretta. I’m sane. I make my money flip. Trukfit trunks full of gun clips and Swisher Sweets blunts. Tropical Fusion, fuck your delusion. I just go Thomas on Allah and the “virgin” Mary was just a young trick committing prostitution, it’s too bad Sam Harris illustrates that two of the gospels sucked at Hebrew according to The End Of Faith by Sam Harris.
All my life I want fame and power. My Dick so long we fuck in tubs and showers. Drugs and flowers, cocaine powder. Colombian cartels got Lil’ Peep flour. It is lovely weather we are having today. I, the Pink Panther, have the answers. “East 1999” my blickas. Run around back in the day with a “K” like Klay. Watch how I move, you can’t touch what I say.
All day every day, I be planting Klaymores. Fuck Mister Cartoon, my ink’s worth way more. Snoop Dogg’s “Tha Doggfather” and all my blickas on the corner selling water. Fuck you and your daughter, Marshall, I’m way smarter. 3666 degrees and I don’t need a charter. Fuck your blood money, I know how to barter. Me I’m so smart I could drop out of Harvard. I have suicidal doors in the front of the Cadillac.
I will send 16 shots to my pops on Kent Street. “Wonder Bread’s the only white boy with the “Dark Meat”.” (“I Love Everybody”, Wonder Bread) Give Klay the car keys. Give me the Sharpies. The Gay Boy Mafia is a massive army. Words can’t harm me. Bars can’t bar me. Bitch I’m the shit and I’m the only one who can shart me. What’s up Shartie? I just broke her heartlie. I used to love Quinn, now I astral fuck Harley.
Drugs every where this is Gotham City. We bury police and don’t even need kidneys. I left Houston like Whitney. Cock got money Longworth like Brittany. Tosha so fishy. Harley so crippie. I been choppin’ tracks, bitch: D.J. Disney. Walt Whitman white bitch, I’m Walter White’s hippy. Moving blue and white in my Santa Cruz city. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch fuck with me.
I want a house, a lake, and Obama faced dollar bills in my pocket, not a bank. I want to tell Joe Biden, “Thanks.” Bitch it’s Chipotle, I’m sippin’ on dank.
What about McDonald’s Use Disorder?
What about Starbucks Use Disorder?
Harlem nights with money, power, and fame as my girlfriend, my mistress, and my wife. Bitch this is fame and clout. All these tricks want my purple in their pretty purdy mouths. I turn “The Bachelor” into Columbine because I spit blank shots into every rose through concrete, vagina.
I slurp that pussy while we 69 and she’s doing time with my penis in her lips for an hour and I still don’t shoot and fire until after a golden shower. Then I finally make her squirt while I rest in peace in her flower. This is fame meets power. Trick, I’m NT GUILTY just like Matthew McConnaughey in the Stephen King book and film “The Dark Tower”.
My circumcised tip is the eye of Sauron. Most adults suffer from Reproduction Use Disorder. I would say see you in hell, but this is me seeing you now. I will be the first and the last in to heaven because when I cross the line I will shut Heaven’s Gate down.
I am so excited to burn eternally, because me, Lucifer, reuniting with my creator, Allah, is literally the last wish and testament in the will of “6od”. Guess what? Jesus never got a vasectomy. I am so excited to die and watch the carnage called humanity: people overdosing and dying, people killing themselves with guns and cars, and most of all: people fucking each other and having unwanted children and sentencing themselves to another life sentence in living hell.
You can all give me dome, if you’re lucky in this lottery. Freaky tricks, tie me up and ride on me. I’m so hard, like, I can feel my erection as I write this. She punch me in the face when I ask her cos I like it. Allah hates ugly, and so does Lucifer. If you ugly get a hot shot and a rig and go to work. The blind leading the deaf is people who go to church. I eat pussy breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and booty for dessert. I’m a bad man cos the good die young. If I catch a slave speaking you should gnaw off your tongue.
A slave is a salaried employee. I sell books on the block, so good luck ignoring me.
“Fuck you, and you, and you. I hate your friends and they hate me too. I’m thru, I’m thru, I’m thru. This that “Hot Girl Bummer” anthem turn it up and throw a tantrum.” (“Hot Girl Bummer”, Blackbear)
Cunt Carolyn: Karma’s coming. My bitch Afton’s pussy’s the warmest oven. Hey Lil’ Peep, tell me, where have you been? We’ve been asking, we’ve been searching, we’ve been wondering, “Why?”
Life is pain. My life is fame which is monumental pain. I wana get her number but don’t even know her name. All these punk muthafuckas don’t know. They think we boys, I never seen you at one of my shows. Bitch I pray to the Devil. I signed my life to Lucifer. I put a Rolls Royce on my wrist. I’m wavy. I could have fought for the Navy. I am not your savior. I be blacking out for the weekend. I bought an 88 then I freaked it. It’s like that Lil’ Trick. I’m pacing back and forth waiting til they pass the mic. Life a pimp who’s 24 in his after life. Yo soy Cavron Corisone.
Bump the Baltimore 12 O’Clock Boys. More like semi-automatic Kelly. Believe all that freaky shit they say about me. I’m an outlaw living with this fame. Harold said his people pull up on bicycles.
“I know some shit’s so hard to swallow. I just can’t sit back and wallow in my own sorrow. I know one fact: I’ll be one tough act to follow. Here today, gone tomorrow. You’d have to walk a thousand miles in my shoes just to see what it’s like to be me.” (“Beautiful”, Eminem)
“Oh no. They say he’s got to go. Go, go Godzilla!” (“Godzilla”, Blue Oyster Cult)
“You gon’ need King Kong if you step to me. Machine Gun Kelly, Flocka, that’s the recipe! Cobain’s back. Cobain’s back. Got these crazy white boys yelling, “Cobain’s back!” I call my weed Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, and my pack’s so fucking loud you can’t hear it…. I’m screaming, “Riverdale!” everywhere I go.” (“Wild Boy (feat. Waka Flocka Flame)”, M.G.K.)
I’m screaming “Rivendell!” everywhere I go. Kool-Aid’s back! Kool-Aid’s back!
So, when I look back on today, it was fire. I wore a dress for the first time in public and no one criticized or laughed at me. I got to see Brogan Graves and hug her twice. My shirt still smells like her. I saw Courtney Harris, which was cool, I guess. Most importantly this sexy ass latina chick was next to me so you know I had to slide her into my Instagram followers. Mmmmmhmmm. She’s fucking lit. Every thing I look for in a woman, black hair, blonde highlights, nails on fleek, fly ass tracksuit (hers was Champion), and the connection our eyes made still has my cock hard, roughly three hours later.
I really miss Caleigh. I’m not myself the night you’re gone, there ain’t no way I’m moving on. If I was to give you the world: that’s any thing you can think of.
A lot of people talk about heaven like they just can’t wait to go, saying that it’s gonna be so good, so musical. Laying in that bed right next to yours, I was convinced that my baby Caleigh is my heavenly bitch. So, I’ve been wandering, pondering life: life around here. You wear that fake smile like a cape. I’ll save this earth, and everyone in the dirt.
Send me your vocation. I’m focusing on my skills in communication. As soon as I get to heaven, everyone is invited: dead, alive, spirits, et cetera. Everyone is worth paradise. I love life. Say she want a stamp, but she’s on my homie’s paper work. Say she got that tight pussy, oh well, I’ma make it work! Wolf Gang! Trap House! GothBoiClique finna blackout! Black teeth! All black coat! GothBoiClique in the glass house!
Smoke the cigarette till the cherry gone! I got Hines Ward going cherry bomb! I terrapin to Maryland to dirtbike with some terrorists. Bitch I got sauce like a chopaholik. Karen? She can get it from the schizo nympho. Low body count but I body every body I get into. I got junkie in my trunkie, you get everything or nothing from me. I can catch a vibe, it’s hella obvi when you wana fuck me!
Sus ledger bus route leave it in when it cums out. I make her squirt and bleed, got her cumming with her tongue out. Sydney Rolex can get it any time of day. I want a presidential Rolls Royce, I’ll get it any kind of way. My mind replaces darkness with pussy carnage. I beat it up like I should be catching charges. She wet for me, that ex to see, before she has some sex with me. I get to see that wet, the “C”, I dress, there’s not much left to see.
I can show you how to love since you out of touch. I love that hippy face that ain’t made up. I let these gains save up. So, really there’s a frequency of collaboration that is so erratically invigorating and it transcends physical. This visual reality is just high pixel digital. Like, this movie is truly thrilling, some movies contain killing, some movies contain heroes, some movies contain villains. I’m just chillin.
Like, why I get so persecuted is because most people do the least to remain elusive. In conclusive buildup, I find momentum. Life is a series of introductions or expositions, many rising actions and many climaxes. I would say unlimited, but not only do people die, most peoples modus operation is to walk or run or drive or bus or bike or plane et cetera: and hide. Such is the horcrux of life.
The misnomer many assume is the compartmentalization complex also known as disorder. To view life as a filing cabinet of separate people, places, things, times, and memories is not synonymous with the nature of life itself. Life is a play button and death is a stop button. Everything in between is yours to enjoy, loathe, fear, love, hate, et cetera, and life’s nature being a curse or a gift is grossly irrelevant. I use the word gross very intentionally, as with all my words. That’s just a little fuck you to my critics and skeptics and you sarcastic ivory tower protective custody punks.
Did life ever ask for your opinion of it? Time spent “analyzing”, “studying”, “fellowshipping”, “preaching”, and “commiserating” is valuable time that could be spent kissing, hugging, fucking, laughing, crying, fist fighting, cuddling, eating, drinking, smoking, cooking, jamming, whatever it is that you enjoy the most with whoever you enjoy the most because it can be done endlessly. “Showing out” around other motherfuckers who crave your downfall is a poison only you can drink. There’s that spine chill, spirit shiver I crave.
This means I’m tapping in to the vein, the mainline of life. I.V. or Intravenous victory, I have a monopoly on incredible vibes. Listen to me scribe, I am that voice in your head or skull that no amount of attempted escape will release you from me. An easy, very triggering metaphor would be to say that I am the messenger or angel of death and of life. I was with you when you took your first breath and I will be with you for your last.
I beg of you: do not judge the past. Praise your past, for every instant got you here. Of course, by design your access to this stream of consciousness is infinitely declined. Well, as are you, in whatever position you occupy, I am just doing my time. Dammit Allah, these fucking meetings are so dreary and depressing. So many programs in life are literally malware or viruses, toxic infection of misery and company slashing their own wrists with word, and living sadistic, masochistic, depressing, street preacher con lives with the same punitive jargon used in a courtroom and the same black and white cognitive distortions they touch on in institutional classes.
This toxic philosophy of false humility and faux gratitude and self promoting “sacrificial” fear mongering cliques built upon no science, no statistics, no studies, literally completely religious jargon where they change the word to higher power. It’s literally a rag tag church cult of people pressing the agenda of misery and discouraging legitimate pathways to fame and financial liberation. They don’t teach how to get a driver’s license, how to write a resume, how to advocate in a courtroom, how to treat a spouse, how to raise a child, how to budget for groceries, how to build credit, how to get a primary care doctor, how to take care of dental, psychiatric, and trauma issues.
These anonymous fellowships literally compare disease symptoms, annotate, and leave. This would be the equivalent of cancer patients meeting in church basements, drinking coffee and talking about how badly cancer has ravaged their lives, and then leaving anonymous. Not meeting with doctors, no chemotherapy, no medical tests, no scans, just a support group, and then they die.
Narcotics Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous, Celebrate Recovery, Dharma Recovery, et cetera are literally placebo test groups, and no statistics are even being studied. This is the ideal control group, and the study group could have brain SPECT scans, closely monitored psychiatric treatment, medical care, and a resort type lifestyle with all the electronics, junk food, sex, et cetera and it should be set up like “The Bachelor” or “The Bachelorette” minus the television crews and minus the voting people off, including vasectomies, tube tying, recording studios, B.D.S.M. and homemade pornography and pizza and football fields and shit.
I mean, if we’re sick then let’s live in paradise, not these dingy fucking churches with these stingy ass sadists. Fuck it. Hail Lucifer. Young Kurt Cobain with the scarred veins. Am I wasting my words? Well, it’s my book so fuck you and thank you for reading. I am literally the first person I have ever seen take notes at an anonymous meeting. I don’t care what you think as long as it’s about me. The best of us can find happiness in misery.
Nicole (804) 300-8778
I would like to extend a formal thank you to Anton Szandor LaVey for his master piece titled The Satanic Bible. For the first time I had read a piece of literature that freed me from the fear of eternal damnation. If you download the BattleMe application on Android’s Google Play, you can find my profile named “The Devil” and when I was under the influence of crack, shrooms, and liquor I felt free enough to record my demons. I still have demons, now they are beautiful and socially accepted. They used to scare me.
My most terrifying demon was my fear of death and at the time my fear of damnation. LaVey taught me not only that I am free to make decisions without consequence, but also that so is everyone else. You set me free, Pocohomeless on the beat. That’s a dope nom de plume. I would like to read American Terrorist about Timothy McVeigh because it is about a real motherfucker who is down for his cause. Life in the fast lane is sure to make you lose your mind.
We’ve got electric bodies. Fuck what other rappers say, Mo’, I am El Lay. Running through the dark, broken boulevards, in California we’re dreaming. I don’t care what you think as long as it’s about me. There is no such thing as bad publicity. There is no such thing as bad decisions. Offense sells tickets and wins games. Special teams sells tickets and wins games. Defense sells tickets and wins games. Hoo-Rah! Woo-Ha! Woo-Sah!
Caleigh (757) 404-8707
Hey California, what’s it like in New York City? I’m a thousand miles per hour, and I want you. “You know what it is, black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow, black and yellow.” (“Black and Yellow, Wiz Khalifa) Gun cocked. Click. Boom! Everything we do, we do it big. My whole team screaming, “That’s Stunna!” When I pulled off the lot, that’s Bumble. I might try every one cos these goals exist. Might fly when I run, you know I’m legit. Every time I’m round, near my city, you know what it is: red and yellow, red and yellow.
I’m a Dick. I know
I’m a Dick. I know.
I’m a Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, I’m a man about it.
I wrote it like a tree. I growed it like a leaf. I’ve been known to strip. I’ve been known to tease. X2
Looking like a whole snack, looking like a whole meal. I been releasing records I ain’t ever had a deal.
If my books and my CDs just don’t sell, I bet my fuckin’ tattoos will.
I had a twelve gage in sixth grade. I still wonder why my friend’s afraid.
I keep it on site. I fuck her all night. Tell me, baby, what you doin’ for this Klondike?
Stay: and play that Ghetto Royalty song that we made outside of Tucson. “Okay.” I know it broke your heart: left on a train from your old town yard. I knew that you were scared, but I gave you everything, on Allah. Baby pull me closer on the broke side of the sofa. You know that I can afford anything with you, girl, my Soulja. I know I broke your heart: taken away in handcuffs in a car. Two weeks, no call, you know they had our phone locked in the “hotel” box. Four weeks, two calls, you know that I love you and my love don’t stop.
Four songs, no drop. Made a couple covers but never made any album art. And I can’t stop: loving you. When everything else falls apart, and I really hate Allah, baby I just changed my job. One day, you’ll watch. Baby it was over when you showed up anti-sober, for the tattoo on that spot where I used to kiss you and nibble you, my Skittles, you my rock. So baby I been sober and I still ain’t getting over every moment that we shared cos I shared with you my heart.
Wait. She didn’t just say what I think she did. Did she? And my brain said, nothing, you idiot, I’m brain dead! I nod like a basshead and my day went pretty amazon’ cos I got to walk on pavement. And Doctor Strange said, nothing, you idiots, Doctor Strange’s stressed that I should say less! Hey, you’re crazy, bitch, but you fuck so good it’s abnoxious. When I dream, it’s just you and I. “Body Like A Backroad” til the end of time. When I think of you in my life, that shit gets me so fuckin’ high.
They say love kills, yea, well my love sells. I can’t help the fact that you’re gone. I haven’t felt you in what feels like so long. People say that I did you so wrong. The initial title of this book was “The Myth of Wrong.” My dick is hard all day n’ nite, all day n’ nite. She said I don’t spend time like I really should, but she can’t erase me. She sees my face all over, I know she does.
In Houston I dipped dust: on tour. Her body is my temple, she knows it is, she can’t replace me. Hmmm. Awesome: power. Chakras: power. Lost in translation with a whole generation. They say I was the initiation of Satan’s Nation. Well that’s a perfect way to start inauguration. At the end of the day, I know I’m real as shit. At the end of the day, I know that I’m real. It’s really not about what people got to say. It’s all about the way that I feel.
I’m joking in the boy’s room. They probably want to see me in the penitentiary for a century, but I couldn’t feel more free.They can’t even Handley judge me. I got bitches, bitches, bitches: oh my gosh, that pussy box is my only Allah. Shout out to the one that made me. Shout out to my momma. She knows I treated Caleigh like a queen. Her son being a gentle man and a real man was my momma’s only muthafuckin’ dream. I’m proud of me, my mom’s proud of me. I love my momma and my bed. That’s why I rest in peace.
I’m the Drizzy to my city. Everybody wana see me. Til they meet me, everybody wana be me. That Marcus Vick, Michael Vick battle went pretty hard. I wonder if my people saw me talk. I’ve been walking talks and talking walks since my first walk. Kellie Larsen even saw me on my jog. Damn, she’s so hot. All I wanna do is jerk it, I been jerkin’ ever since the pen drop. I’m accurate with an abacus, that’s Winchester academics. First bike I rode on “Lester”, that’s how I learned physics. Leicester is where I became a chemist.
Every rule I just bent it, sea fishing every sentence. Uncle Rick shot a croc, and yea he meant it. You heard it from the grapevine, I put it on Vine. John Frusciante made “Murders”, what a hell of a time. My magical ministry is actual divinity. Lucifer is the Statue of Liberty. I ain’t friendly with B.I.G., I ain’t friendly with Pac. Mac Miller the greatest, he did not get shot. He went out voluntarily or accidentally, the King of Hip-Hop.
I’m a pisces moon and sun, that’s two fish. At Papa John’s and Pizza Hut, I served bread sticks. I consider it a compliment if you call me a bitch. I’m so bad, and I’m so good, guaranteed to be the greatest Dick you ever had. You ain’t ever had nobody like me, and the only album I like is “The Marshall Mathers L.P. 3”. I am Lucifer’s Rasta, in the bark of America, a Beamerboy, Bob Marley Wailer, and I work at a charity. Serendipity holds up way more as a law than the Theory of Gravity.
Gravity is subjective to a planet’s distance from the star it orbits, and I have no formal cosmology training but I would guess that other planets, stars, asteroids, comets, et cetera probably make the 9.8 m/s/s a rough estimate. My wildest dreams all come true, doubt has no home here. It seems like I’m less obsessed with Courtney Harris than I was a week ago. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just playing it cool. I’ve just met a lot of other girls who have more courage and higher self-esteem than her.
I’ve made the mistake in the past of putting a lot of energy into people who don’t put energy or even curiosity into me. I’ve already made plenty of an impression. I read that what she lacks in outward courage she makes up for in quiet patience, and that shit is so fucking hot to me. Plus her hair game is on fleek. I love the defects in her teeth. I love her stereotypical image. I love her maniacal laugh. I just wish she would spend more idle facetime with me. A fifteen minute smoke break with Courtney Harris feels like 3 hours in paradise to me, and we don’t even have to hug but I’m still gonna pray to Lucifer that one day our tongues can meet.
I hope our first kiss is so awkward that we accidentally bump teeth. I know she knows my imagination of the future us, written by me, is a master piece. It’s called synonymous chemistry. I can introduce her to infinity. I know I already made enough of a splash that she will always remember me. I just hope that Courtney Harris has the courage to not always bring her friends to me. They don’t compare to her. I’m definitely not scared of her, I just hope she’s not scared of the way that I’m weird and unique.
I am a freak. But that translates to passion and I’m way more dynamic than Benjamin Cramer and way more authentic than Russell Brand with 8 years clean and more entertaining than his performance in “Get Him To The Greek”.I’ve got a whole lot of bricks, you with a whole lot of tricks. I learned how to cook cake, pies in the kitchen with a big steak. Quarter pound Cherry Pie was a quick hit. I got the juice. I’m growing ruthless.
Throwing up both of the sets ended the friendship. I got no time for the fakes. I’m poppin’ off all the hate. I never snake, I put the Alexander in Alexander the Great. It takes a Richard to have a lion’s heart and a pretty face. Catch me in the hood, posted at the store. I know you wonder why I’m so cool. Meet me in the mall, it’s guaranteed to go down. Pop a few tags, flip a lil’ work, they like me like Lil’ Durk.
Girls like my girls, girls like my face. Time to set it off. Chevrolet Camaro with the butterfly doors. I even candy painted the floors. Stuntin’ is a habit. Fast forward. Staying low, this the stash house. She does the most. She called me Allah with the way I got her panties soaked. I done went from G.G. to C.C. to L.V.. Her eyes freeze, I know that she wants it all when that pretty bitch is beside me. She call me the devil how I heated up her toaster. I told her I could fly her like a Tesla Roadster.
If I ever made you angry just know that it gets better. Time is on my side. Time heals. Go build a life without me, girl you’re mine still. I tell my friends how much I did for you and what you did for me. You should go to sleep, you ain’t me. You got my heart beat racing. I don’t want to go unless you come too. You have dreams that I have showed you. You done a whole lot of shit and I’ll still love you. That’s real love, you deserve me. Focus on what you can be because you’re worthy.
Lost and insecure, you found me. In the end every one ends up alone. Losing her, the only one who knows who I am, who I was, and who I want to be. I overdosed and you brought me home. You’re the only one who made me not feel alone. You wanted zodiac? Tell me what your sign say. Love don’t feel the same outdoors. Hop in my Porsche. Married to the fame, no divorce. I’m burning money in front of the courts.
Stressin’ like a tennis game, bless you with a tennis chain. I came from nothing, it’s so simple. I keep it simple. If I ever made you angry just know that it gets better with time. She’s so plastic. I wish that we could change bodies, change places. Pretty face, she’s pretty and taught me ugly lessons. I wasn’t looking for your secrets, they just came to me. Shout out 106.3 FM Richmond, Henrico. I’m ballin’, Iverson on you. You can see me from the nosebleeds. When I started balling I was young. I need that money like the rings I never won. Cigarettes and a headband, Wonder Bred the Bredman, like I’m Davis from New Orleans or like I’m Harden.
You gon’ think about me when I’m gone. I’m saucin’ on you. Watch out. That’s my shotta’. I’m spending all my fuckin’ pay. Young me was a young G. Back then I learned everything about this beautiful country. I took a lot of history lessons. These Amy, Yamz, Mac Miller, Peep, all these bodies droppin’. Had to get clean, hardly was an option. Dirty dollars made dirt cheap. “Thrift Shop” shopping “Can’t Hold Us” back. I’m fighting my Confederate flag with a rainbow American flag. I told my dad I thought I was gay. He literally laughed in my face.
These days my mom doesn’t care about dick and tail that I chase, but at first she screamed at me over the phone because of my come out mixtape titled “I Love Everybody”. Either way, they want me alive. Thanks to my doctor I’m not currently contemplating suicide. Man that shit’s a killer vibe. I’ve attempted suicide more than four times. That doesn’t include all the times that I got high. These days I look at my people for hope. I can be who I want. I got dreams and they caught. Tight rope so taught. Used to be chasing a knot serving cocaine on the block.
Smoking that meth and that fentanyl, I was gon’ die but I stopped. Got shot at, shot up, drove high, drove drunk, rolled spliffs, rolled skunk. Now I just do what I want. Look how I’m livin’. I’m different. This shit is a vision. Ultra rhyme encryption. My existence defies science exhibits and physics. I am so evil that I do what I want. I wrote this, I wrote lyrics, my hope bricks, break down to some woke shit. Burnin’ money with my eyes down. I put the pipe down. Books what I write down, my mind is my iCloud.
My competition is Bill Clinton. I stay unpublished, by hand, and under budget. Runnin’ to it never runnin’ from it. Girl clothes in public. I can be me and I love it. Throw dirt on me? I grow a sunflower. Married to the fame. That will never change. I write these fire social experiments. I write my own script. I live my own dream. Keep reading. Keep coming around. This is profound. Need hands? Just call Phantom. Meet Jamaica? I just want to meet the sand. “Halfway House” with the man who never lands. I love to see you shine. So alive, you are one of my stars.
No one’s got know what we say, hit me up when I’m home. It just gets better. We live. We just want to hide. I’ve got what you like. I’m a Dick. Are you reading me now? I never felt better than this. Tie me up with my fix. I only write lit. Don’t you know that time heals? I know you wouldn’t do for me the things I did for you. It’s still nostalgic heartache when I remember how I lived with you. What I did and what I didn’t do, it took everything I had. I gave you my gifts. Had it been you who was cuffed I would have called a bondsman. I would get you out in hours, yeah, without a problem.
I would ask our coworkers to help me get you back. I would’ve had your back because they have my back. What did you do? Did you get on Snapchat? Did you call up both your parents? That’s the way you act. You live like a child but I took you back. You’re a pussy but I love hitting that Kitty Kat. You a bitch with no balls, nobody’s got your back. They smile in your face and tell me that you laughed. My people was locked up and did time with Andrew and he told them that you wasn’t even sad. Bitch, I need you bad. You’re faker than that logo on your “Diamond Supply Co.” hat.
It’s a bootleg beanie. I know how to trap. You said that your bag was almost half a stack. I looked it up on Walmart, brand new, and found it for a hundred twenty, cash. We was in the Blue Marlin Inn and “your people” couldn’t even sell us gas. You got nothin’ on me, you a kiddie living for your dad. And Bill a piece of judgemental, prejudiced white trash. He hates the way I dress in dresses, has he told you that? No cap. Your mom and Reilly want me in a body bag. All because I showed you fame and fortune that you never even had.
When the going got tough, I had no idea that you was a runner, what a bummer, fuck volleyball, you would’ve been a beast at track with the way you ran away and threw everything we had including our hairtie wedding ring in the trash. You treat me like a game, you treat me really bad. You’re so fake to everybody, why do you act like you’re never sad? I want to know the fears that you have. You blame me, J.R., and all your exes for why you’re smoking crack. Baby, did you have some issues with your mom and or dad?
When I was eight years old, mine separated. Ever since then I been wondering why they threw what we had as a family in the trash. I’m still becoming realer, growing as a man. I can truly say I’ve always done all that I can. I don’t hold back and I hate being sober. But sober is providing me new ideas and closure. I’m a hoper. She sleeps like an angel, she was glad I woke her. I really wish she would have held me closer. It’s not over. I’m still alive and finding clout.
Her love is fueling me, she’s not the only one. It’s not over. If life is Monopoly, I just smile and laugh. They made me the banker and I love burning cash. Face down in the bath, she said, “I can do that.” She said, but who the fuck asked you, bitch? I’m not paralyzed but I used to get fucked by you, baby I love you too, and I can feel you still. Since your body’s flash just like your eyes can do, I want you into me, because I’m into you!
I’m a shooting star, Arthur Boulevard, I’m such a freak, but in Virginia I’m dreaming. I don’t care what you speak as long as it’s about me. The worst of us can find our success in misery. I’m gona run it up! American armies can’t hold me back! I’m gona run it up! Israeli armies can’t hold me back! And the voice that’s inside my head says leave me alone! I can’t breathe in the silence. Don’t tell me you’re bored, it’s exciting. I’m just one and I’ve been famous for so long.
I’m so used to you in the room, and I care. I just want a kiss. Love never left me alone, so I’m with you in the silence. I’m in need of a hater. I keep asking for favors. Love always made me a home. So now I sleep in the silence. You’re the next Cal’ Perry, and I want more. All my other girls wonder what I fuck with you for. I’m on medication, let’s focus on invitations. I just need someone to come for a ride.
So won’t you play with me? You’re all I teach. It’s going round, round, it just circles around. Baby this planet keeps spinning. I’ll be the lover boy with a fettish. Tie me up, baby, knot it and pull it. Is it too late for me to be horny? I just want to say, “You floor me.” You all are unforgettable. I want to get you alone. I want you on the phone. Why, why? Is this all just human nature? I, I, know you love it this way. Smile bright. “Day N’ Nite”. You’re beautiful like stars up in the sky.
“You ever been conscious in a coma? Please don’t tell my momma, this ain’t marijuana. I might be trippin’ on that dmt. Tde, limitless like we on nzt. I made my dreams reality, so to speak. Or so they say, I could still be asleep. Black sheep, running with a pack of wolves. Diamond in the rough, tell bruh I need a pack of Woods, quickly. Two white cups full of codeine. Plus I got two white sluts down to blow me. Can’t you see I’m floating? Like root beer, and ice cream. My synapses act like lightning, prolly why I’m so enlightened then. Prolly why these people can’t fuck with me, they looking like, “Who the fuck invited him?” Soulo, solo, say it like you mean it. My demeanor is the meanest. It’s mine, I spend it. Your time is ticking. The “Sky’s The Limit”. We in a space where matter don’t matter. Just spirit molecules and geometric patterns. Shitted in a crater last time I sat on Saturn. Got a letter from Andromeda, they tryna shrine my bladder. Enjoy your mind trip but don’t trip on your mind. No man is safe from the war going on outside. They failed in testin’ like what’s inside of them. Scratching at the surface almost broke a nail.” (“Pineal Gland”, Ab-Soul)
Saber tooth tiger or a wooly mammoth? I skied at Mammoth, do you understand it? I might be trippin’ off that nicotine. Fiberglass in my Nikes, they not on my feet. I feel like I hit the lotto, and I just got head. Popular pothead, talking bout pineal glands, ancient ways of Sumerians, ain’t nothin’ wrong with my Cairo plans. There’s two sides to every story, two thighs to every shorty. Thank you to the late Larry Fisherman (Mac Miller) for the “You (E.P.)” available on datpiff.com. Sierra Mott and I had unforgettable sex to that project when Matt Ellenbecker and I were in the same room in the Bellview Oxford House.
At the time I owned an Insignia soundbar and accompanying subwoofer which I bought at Best Buy on Pleasant Valley in Winchester (Wink/Winc City) Virginia.
“I’m pacing back and forth waiting til they pass the torch. Life’s a bitch who’s bout 40 in a sad divorce. Voice is hoarse, getting harder to speak. Remarkable themes, talk it, “Mark of the Beast”. She wants diamonds and she wants gold, though she’s scared to let you get too close. We’ve been loving and we’ve been fighting, now I’m finally on my road. I’m just glad I walk alone. “I grew up in the streets without no heart. I’m praying to my Glock and my car. So much work that it broke the scale. They say crack kills, yeah, well my crack sells. My brother in the kitchen and he wrappin’ a bale. Louis V. my bag and Louis V. on my belt. Chain swangin’, diamonds blingin’, hol’ up. Little did he know his bitch is fuckin’ on the tour bus.” (“No Heart”, 21 Savage)
“She out here wildin’, tellin’ her friends I’m buyin’ and flyin’ her, bitch you childish. Rolls Royce truck don’t got no mileage. All dressed up don’t got “No Stylist”.” (Lil’ Baby)
“I got a bitch came from Russia, don’t understand? When I fuck her I’ma spend all her money. I got this shit out the dungeon. I don’t owe nobody nothin’. This pistol is Russian. Matter fact, this bitch is German. Couldn’t get nothin’ from no one, shit I had to earn it. I got some dollars, let’s burn it. Gun on me with no license I do not got no permit. Just send me the bag pick a date. She ain’t used to the stars, kick that girl out the Wraith. Get money, fuck bitches and get out the way. Nobu for dinner, got shark on my plate. I fuck her so good she be calling my name. Tryna book me just send me that bag pick a date. She ain’t used to the stars, kick that girl out the Wraith. Get money, fuck bitches and get out the way. I’m only thinkin’ bout how much I can make. Take a trip and be right back in a day. Wasn’t used to packin’ out shows. Don’t get too close, this shit strapped on my waist.” (Dave East)
“Akon and Young Jeezy, trynna take it easy. The only way to go. And so. If you looking for me I be on the top, with my thang cocked, possibly sitting in a drop now. Because I’m a ridah. I’m a sole survivor. Everybody knows the game don’t stop, tryna make it to the top fo’ yo ass gets popped, nah. Because I’m a ridah. I’m a “Soul Survivor”. (“Soul Survivor (feat. Akon), Young Jeezy)
It’s very unfortunate that Ronald Reagan was so pussy whipped. Talk about a power trip. At least that gave way to the movie “Blow” with Johnny Depp. Momma you made me a “Street Pharmaceutical God”. A “Trap Lord”. A Hustler. Look what I turned my coke dreams into! Mom, I made it! I danced with the devil and I praise it! I died and reincarnated under Allah’s supervision. Look how I turn superstition into ammunition! My overdose allowed for my resurrection! Mom, look at how I answer Tupac’s questions!
Look at how I conquered suicidal depression! Allah used my acid trip, my September 11th front flip to turn your son into a young John Smith, conquering thoughts and illuminating myths. If it wasn’t for drugs, I wouldn’t exist! I took L.B.C. and L.G.B.T. and O.G. and B.R.E.D. and made this gourmet food for thought. Here we only have one rule: it’s lit. Hot chocolate from “The Polar Express” is a lifelong gift. “Here we only have one rule, never ever let it cool.” Keep it cooking in the pot, soon you’ve got crack cocaine rock! Or hot chocolate. Isn’t that a hell of a rendition?
On “Music to be Murdered By” by Eminem, Ma, you should listen to “Premonition”. You are now welcome to Chris Webby’s “Dark Side” of the force on his mixtape “Bars On Me” hosted by D.J. Drama on datpiff.com, thanks to Sam Obenshain. I watched the countdown for the release of “Bars On Me” every day as I walked from Academy Lane to Clifford Street to Handley Avenue past Leicester Street. The History film of my life is really, really deep. If it wasn’t for “good” and “bad”, we wouldn’t grow. Let’s be like “Allah” and “Adam” and say, “It’s all good.”
Let’s get on with the show. Live as if it’s my last day. Smoke as if there’s not already 27 butts in the ashtray. Since you left, Ive been holding on to a memory. Since you walked out that door. You say I changed and you’re so damn sick of me. You’re not mine anymore. And you said I can feel you like my drug but I can’t get high off you. You’re not mine anymore. I still remember what you wore on the first night. Still remember how that eyeliner was so tight. Still remember smoking just to calm my nerves.
Then you went to leave and grabbed me first, by that church. It’s no words, it’s just her” face in my mind, words in my purse. Calling you again so I can hear your words. She said you need to let me go, you’re not mine anymore. I can’t stand myself without you. I am not well. Okay I said that before but I need you now. We don’t need rehab. Would you still love me if I let you go? Even if the highs feel low. And she said to me, I love you, so. If I die at 24. Would you call me a whore?
Would you put me in a casket? Would you sell my book in stores? Is that what you’re waiting for? When you die, people love you more. Where were you at when I was strung out at Dillon’s house and I pissed on the floor. What a wet dream. Thank you for my space. But fuck you all for not having the courage to chase. Or was it bloody dollars for your work days? Very few talk for more than two minutes face to face.
I know I’m a celebrity. How would you use five minutes with John Kennedy? You praise the dead, but did you really do what you could? Did you go on a date instead of staying with your brother Ryan Abinette, Gabby? What’s your body count? And you couldn’t even bring yourself to just kiss Henry? Gabrielle, you’re deadly. I wish we were never friendly. You’re the definition of a tease, probably the least attractive skeleton of the century.
Talk to me, like you’re laying on your deathbed. You know how beautiful you are, that’s my least favorite part. I’ve become so fun. I don’t see you here, and I’m more aware than I was with you. I know I won’t end up failing. I don’t see your body in my room. Sometimes I did not want to fuck you. I jerk off without you, love. Easier done than said, you want to suck the head. I might! Baby’s got an ego half the size of the crib. 6od said, “Look Alive”, now, all I do is live. “Burning Churches” would be a dope band nombre.
Every body deserves specifically tailored, passionately detailed, curiously honest physical affection, also known as love. I will always know. I worked on all this til I was a professional. I ran through these beats, ran through these streets, ran through these thoughts. I’ve always been a boss. Alhummdullallah. Hail Lucifer! Today the sun is shining in a cloudless sky. I am alive. I keep my hands, feet, and extremities inside for the ride. I shine. Today my best friend is my mind.
I love every part of my body, every phase of my design. I love these feet. I love these thighs. I love these tattoos. I love these scars. I love thunder clouds, acid rain, and white lightning. I am Brave, my insecurities are what I keep fighting. I keep writing. I keep climbing. I found the “Perfect High” is life, thank you to Shel Silverstein. Thank you Silver Krueger for producing my mixtapes: “Blue” and “VISION”. Today I make decisions. I lift up and get uplifted. I have no limits.
I sold lemonade in third grade. Country Time gave me the powder of lemons. Lemon tree, oh so pretty, oh so wonderful to eat. The fruit of the lemon is bitter sweet. I’m still young, loving my youth. I grew up last summer. The comet was a white light over an ocean blue. I skydived and I will again. I kill shows and I’ll “Begin Again”. Thank you to the Canadian duo known as Purity Ring for “Lofticries”, “Begin Again” and “25 Bucks” with Fool’s Gold Records creative genius Danny Brown.
Thank you Danny Brown for the most classical album in Hip-Hop as of April 2021 called “Old”. I’m on my way to meet Wonder Bread. I swear I just Wonder, Bread. Thank you to genius.com, formerly rapgenius.com for keeping my account active despite multiple hostile emails from me. “The Bred Of Life” os still available. Search “Wonder Bred” on genius.com. I also have a piece of poetry titled “Road Warrior”. It reads, “This is for those sleeping out in the cold. This is for those with no fridge, no food, and no stove.”
Little did I know that this would be a premonition, a psychic foresight of my lifestyle from age 15 to 24. Now I’m wide awake. I have never made a mistake. There’s always two sides to every coin. Even in a Harvey Dent void. I want to swing from the chandelier at the Filmore in Charlotte, North Carolina. Even if I say it’ll be alright. Now I hear me say, I want to live this life. Maybe I’ll come around just to rock the mic.
All I think about is girls, girls, men. Insert something profound and meaningful like, “There he goes again!” And all the people say, “Do yo thang, Rich Gang!” Birdman, you woke me first. I consider you my Godfather. Putting hand to paper has more positive power than spoken word. I don’t know how to feel, I’ve got some feelings that I can’t explain. I’ve been balling out every season. If love is a drug, I need the plug. I just ran out of new needles. Say that it’s worth “Savin’ Me”.
“If everyone cared and nobody cried. If everyone loved and nobody lied. We’d see the day when nobody died.” (“If Everyone Cared”, Nickelback) Let’s make today the day when everyone tried. “I want a bathroom I can play baseball in. I want a credit card that’s got no limit. I want the front door key to the Playboy Mansion. I want a star on Hollywood Boulevard. Somewhere between Cher and James Dean is fine with me.” (“Rockstar, Nickelback)
I’ve even cut my hair and changed my name.
“It’s not my time. I’m not going. There’s no fear in me, so it’s not showing. This could be the end of me: every thing I know. There might be more than you can see. There might be more than you believe.” (“Not My Time”, 3 Doors Down)
“Do the John Wall.” (“Do The John Wall”, Troop 41)
“I spend my nights at the strip club. I pay them girls just to get love. I pay them to lie to me. One of them girls gave a line to me. I spend my nights at the strip club. I pay them girls just to get love. I pay them to lie to me. Girl I can’t even lie. What do you see when you look at me? Don’t cover my scars. Let them bleed. Tell me: is this how we’re supposed to be? I’m so, I’m so happy! Would you still love me if I let you go? Even if the highs feel low? Even if you miss me cause I’m not under the covers with you when your eyes close?” (“Rehab”, Machine Gun Kelly)
“I done gave these jails too many years, years that I won’t get back.” (“Too Many Years”, Kodak Black)
“When I found you I found me. Lost in the current, you carried me.” (“Rescue Me”, A Day To Remember)
“I been ballin’ out every season. I know there’s some girls that I left in the bleachers.” (“Every Season”, Roddy Ricch)
“She wants to feel the V-12 when I ride in Atlanta. I got three bitches with me they want the baguettes on they neck. Bitch, I was made in the projects then I woke up on a jet. I’m shoppin’ at Nieman’s. Feelin’ like I’m dreamin’. All they know is I was broke, then I got a brand new coupe. Louis V.’s on my shoes. Fuckin’ all my bitches by the twos. First time in V-12 she was hangin’ out the roof. My V.V.’s ice cream, I ain’t even have to scoop.” (“Project Dreams”, Roddy Ricch & Marshmello)
“Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep. I’m on the road to the riches, money stickin’ to my cleats.
Change the story. Change your life.
“The voicemail box is full and cannot accept new messages at this time. Good-Bye.”
This is the story of my life. I just hope you read it. So, I hope you can learn a little about me from this book. I am the most interesting man in the world. I have published over a thousand songs on computers, phones, and cassette tape decks in my life. I cannot count the number of times I have performed.
I have had four ingrown toenail surgeries in my life. I am twenty four years old as of May the second, two thousand and twenty one years A.D.. I believe in evolution. That seems absurd that I should say believe even though it is evidence based scientific fact.
In my opinion, there are scientists, and there are deists. Or theists. An atheist is really just a scientist. The persecution scientists receive is horrifying.
The natural world has gone to shit. Everyone I meet is a cyborg, clutching their gadgets. My mother used to say I spent too much time playing computer games. Ironically, every adult with a gadget is playing computer games.
My first book, Brave, was made using a computer game called Microsoft Word. It may be more productive than Pokemon Crystal. It is potentially more productive than YouTube, the computer game. Microsoft Word can be a very dangerous computer game.
My tenth grade essay, “L.S.D. For Psychotherapy” got me kicked out of John Handley High School. Dinosaur forbid that I cite a Food and Drug Administration study showing an over 70% success rate of clinical, therapeutic L.S.D. administration to “hopeless” cases of “alcoholics”. Brain science has all the answers. Don’t listen to me, listen to podcasts by Dr. Amen of Amen Clinics.
I just awoke from a lucid dream where I made out with two angels, Nicole and Caleigh. The following is from my initial composition notebook as of my arrival to McShin three days and three weeks ago as of May 3rd, 2021.
Go to Google Play Store: Beat Maker or Groove Maker Hip Hop Beats and run it through a blue tooth speaker. Play “We Takin’ Over” by DJ Khaled/Khalifa/Khalifornikation/Khowleyfournickation/DJ Zeus. Play “Echoes” by Gorilla Zoe.
“I be making horcruxes. I make Voldemort Moves.” (Rich G 97, “Voldemort Moves”)
I’ve got more Chargers than the San Diego Padres. Every pod is on lock down on absentee Father’s Day. Burn more wood than Paul Bunyan’s camp fire. $lumlord is like a lawyer: I can’t retire.
“Killer cop, came to kill you and cut out your kidney. Killers everywhere, there’s no place to run. Forgive me for my wrongs, I have just begun.” (Skrillex & Rick Ross, “Purple Lamborghini”)
The following is a poem called “Keep Loving” by “Patrick Henry”.
All these women love me because I quit sniffing.
All these women love me because I quit tripping.
All these women love me because I quit drifting
All these women love me because I quit hitting.
All these women love me because I quit skipping.
All these women love me because I keep winning.
All these women love me because I keep winking.
All these women love me because I quit hating.
All these women love me because I quit chasing.
All these women love me because I quit waiting.
All these women love me because I quit playing.
All these women love me because I quit praying.
All these women love me because I quit saving.
All these women love me because I keep slaying.
All these women love me because I keep waiting.
All these women love me because I keep loving.
All these women love me because I keep hugging.
All these women love me because I keep nothing.
All these women love me because I keep cuffing.
All these women love me because I quit bluffing.
All these women love me because I keep something.
All these women love me because I quit running
All these women love me because I keep running.
All these women love me because I quit dying.
All these women love me because I keep trying.
All these women love me because I quit lying
All these women love me because I keep rhyming.
All these women love me because I quit nothing.
All these women love me because I keep stunting.
All these women love me because I quit hiding.
All these women love me because I keep shining.
All these women love me because I quit loving.
All these women love me because I keep loving.
Play “Helicopters” by Jidenna. “We gon’ make them helicopters come out: choppers, choppas, choppas.” (Jidenna, “Helicopters”)
Play “Errbody” by Lil’ Baby. “Helicopter in the middle of the hood. I’m flyer than errybody. All this fame these people be chasing I swear I don’t care about it. Leave some blood on the street. Buy some red bottoms.” (Lil’ Baby, “Errbody”)
Play “Fuc Dat” by Dave East (signed by Nas), Young Dolph, and DJ Paul (of Three 6 Mafia). “Open up my eyes. Got money to go get. Y’Knahmean? So I’m like fuck that shit. Ass fat but her face look like a monster. I couldn’t fuck that shit.” (Dave East (feat. Young Dolph and DJ Paul), “Fuc Dat”)
Play “Phone Numbers” by Wiz Khalifa on “Cabin Fever”. “When I get paid my checks be looking like phone numbers.” (Wiz Khalifa, “Phone Numbers”)
Play “No Ceilings (feat. Birdman)” by DeWayne “Mike” Carter II a.k.a. Lil’ Wayne. “Pop that pussy. Girl shake that ass. No ceilings. No ceilings. No ceilings. Yeah!” (Lil’ Wayne (feat. Birdman), “No Ceilings”)
Play “Watch My Shoes” by Lil’ Wayne on the datpiff.com mixtape “No Ceilings”. “Okay, no ceilings mothafucka. Good morning. Dick in your mouth. Why you yawning? I’m gond. And, Gudda: why they started me? Molly, why they started me? I’ll bring it to your front door like you ordered me. Back in this bitch, but a lot more rich (Rich). On my poppa (Biggie) bear shit. Need hot porridge. Got a lot more shit…” (Lil’ Wayne, “Watch My Shoes”)
You get the idea. I’m a fan first.
The following is a poem called “That’s Right!” by “Patrick Henry”.
To live in a world witch commands death is to keep liberty alive with every breath.
To live in a world witch commands stress is to keep liberty alive with every step.
To live in a world witch commands hate is to keep liberty alive with a crying face.
To live in a world witch commands slaves is to keep liberty alive in the human race.
To live in a world witch commands violence is to keep liberty alive with your family dying.
To live in a world witch commands lying is to keep liberty alive without trying.
To live in a world witch commands hype is to keep liberty alive like riding a bike.
To live in a world witch commands life is to keep liberty alive, and that’s right!
The following is a diary entry from my initial composition notebook as of my arrival to McShin as of April 12th, 2021.
April twelfth, twenty twenty one: Sunny, high of 57 degrees. Chores, medication, check chores, smoke hut with a 30-day key chain member preferred. Morning devotion: How do you feel? Goal for the day? Conner feels on top of the world and wants to work on the first step.
Mark feels tooth pain and gratitude for squashing animosity. He wants to take care of doctor visit. We can use real pens not flex pens today. Shawn/William feels content this morning. He wants to make dentist, doctors appointments and make his resume.
Mikey feels blessed to not be in a cell. He’s staying grateful. His goal is to stay focused on recovery and to keep his higher power first. Henry feels inspired to be home. His goal is to lift others up and to take short term pain for long term gain. Squirrel (Randall G.) feels sore this morning. His goal is to keep listening to retain information. Allen feels good. His goal is to stay positive and to stay in the moment, and get what he can out of today within his groups. He forgot his morning prayer, the third step prayer.
““The Big Picture” (by Big L) is the end to loneliness.” “Just for today our view expands with new awareness of unity. We understand suffering. Just for today I humbly accept my place in the big picture.” Henry will vacuum the stairs and sweep the stairs. Henry met Ryan with the gold colored chain. I met Matt G. to do intake questionnaire and benefits. I met Nate with the camo face scrunchy and tattoos on both forearms. Matt G. is in Garth’s office. Matthew Conner is front desk at the office to the left of Garth’s. Brogan is the front desk secretary and she is twenty four years old and has a brother named Cullan who lives in New York. She hopes to go to school and focus on fashion.
Nathan Mitchell has a beard and pony tail and new front teeth. He and I spoke at John Shinholser’s Christmas party in 2018. Nathan has my old office where I built McShin promotional videos in spring of 2018. Nathan is the outreach director and hosts the “In The Herd” McShin Foundation podcasts which have accumulated over 65,000 unique viewers. Eric T. played “Glass House” by M.G.K. and played some of the late Mac Miller’s music.
That is the end of the journal entry of April 12th, 2021.
What do you call an expert fisherman?
A master baiter.
What is a master baiter’s favorite food?
What Steve Carrell’s favorite Madonna song?
Like A (40 year old) Virgin.
“This next one’s the long one.”
“That’s what she said.”
Nick Glover’s number is (757) 266-2062.
Mikey (Sir Michael Rocks) B.’s number is (804) 234-6241.
Michael Taylor’s (Harry Potter) number is (434) 249-1712.
Eric Anderson’s (OG Kush) number is (540) 551-0099.
4-12-21 Tarah’s (is in school) number is (804) 277-7836.
The Scott House is at 2400 Dumbarton Rd. Henrico, VA 23228 and the home phone
number is (804) 477-7204.
I will add more resources, I just want to provide the original version of a short story I wrote. The title is “Crack” by “Patrick Henry”.
Once upon a thyme there was a boy in the hood. He was up to no good, on the wrong side of the tracks. When he tried to hustle, he began with grass. When he walked down Kent Street, every body laughed. However this boy always came back. As he grew he was embraced, at first only barely. He was from the picket place, so the south side was scary. When he listened to Eminem, he craved Haley. When he rapped with his friends, he was shady.
On his thirteenth birthday, he bought the CD of Eminem’s album “Recovery”. It made up for the divorce, and he was struggling. Dad kept crying, Henry knew why. When his siblings started lying, Henry just cried. Dad was really patient, and knew one day that Henry was a patriot with no where to stay. The father saw the son, but had a career. If it weren’t for his father, Henry wouldn’t be here.
Back to the hood, at the age of fifteen. Henry got addicted to his gang, gang green. Once the boy matured, the family hated. All but the father, for he remained patient. The history lessons, which Henry had taped and seen, are the reasons why his tattoos are the colors that he bleeds.
Once upon a rhyme, the mother shipped him off, and swooped in. Kate, or Kathryn, had a convoluted definition of sin. Henry knew this, so he went away to Georgia’s wilderness program. The neighborhood knew that the boy would return one day to move grams. Thee boy who lived had sacrificed so much since he’s royal. Sacrifice is the boy’s definition of love, in conjunction with being loyal.
Once upon a time, the boy met Aaron Robinson at Sakura Tattoos. Tattoos help the boy remember bad moods. When moms want money and dads want time, the boy had to cross Linkin Park’s “New Divide”. Once across the border, the cartel came. They promised the boy would be the new King Cocaine. This was his fantasy, the boy versus men. The boy had a meeting with his gang within.
Fiction is strange, addiction is rage. Those who wear Yeezy’s are today’s New Slaves. Gold mining Henry hitchhiked to West Virginia. He started mining coal, with some pressure by the river. Diamonds in his black eyes, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds in his soul. The Nine Trey Piru Blood gang set needed leadership control.
Once upon a time, Tekashi Six Nine snitched and cheated time. Time has a bad bitch and Mother Nature is fine. Henry is the greatest at seeking out gold. His Annunaki spirit has the eye of Horus in his pharoah’s third eye hole. Jay Electronica is Henry’s alma mater. Nikolai Tesla’s rods control weather patterns and manipulate water.
Once upon a time, Henry moved mulch. Stealing was okay: the boy had to eat lunch. In the sacred city of Sacramento, California, Henry met ISIS. I tried to warn ya. You can’t fight it. They showed him angel wings with angel dust and Kennedy has Nirvana in Arabic tattooed on her ribs, duh. Now the boy is guarded and protected by spirits, aliens, ghosts, and angels. Look at my hair, do you see my blond halo? Angels at the bus stops wear white shirts. I do not belong in a motherfuckin’ church. Solid gold chains are the boy’s left lane. Lunch Money Records was the boy’s west wing. It’s A Rap Entertainment is the boy’s strong side. They say Prince Charming is down for the long ride.
Once upon a time, the boy loved his Ma. He loved his Ma more than selling crack rock. The boy wrote a book, the title is Brave. The boy drove to Atlanta, and with marijuana the chick at Waffle House made a trade. The boy went home, back to Richmond. Richard Henry Griffin was born Rich, son.
The End of Part One of “Crack” by “Patrick Henry”
I just overdosed on inspiration. I’m so sick and nauseous from rhetoric in this nation. I am contrary to complacent. My mind is vacant and I’m not renting out any spaces. Life is a journey towards death and I can’t wait to rest in peace.
Saying atheism is a religion is like saying “not playing golf” is a hobby. Why would I miss you, Mom? Now there’s no one to argue with. I’m a democrat, and we are taking over! Did you forget? You know you’re wrong. Happy early Mother’s Day (May 9th)!
Play “Headfirst For Halos” by My Chemical Romance. Americorp is basically the domestic version of the Peace Corps. The Richmond Healthy Futures Program provides employees to recovery organizations.
I am in a chocolate coma. My people died from overdoses due to restrictions during Corona. I want to visit Paris and the Louvre just to go and see Mona. I write these books: it’s my quota. I am a societal outcast but now I’m mainstream. Play the song by Cage The Elephant called “Cigarette Daydreams”.
I rep the donkey, it kicks ass and cages the elephants. Half of republicans are corrupt, the other half is misguided: religious and prideful; and the conservative agenda is simply irrelevant. The American situation is critical and delicate. It is so hypocritical for parents to tell their kids to remain or become celibate.
I dedicate this to 1920s children born in Harlem’s tenements. I am the king of the ghetto, protector of the impoverished. Incarceration for Substance Use Disorder WILL BE ABOLISHED. This is perfected and polished. This is radically honest. This is a man feeling whole in my heart after every republican broken promise. Where is the wall? Where are the jobs? So much unemployment is paid out to the broke and the jobless.
Money to live on is an American right. Republican darkness is dead in the light. I’m ready to fight. I was working 60 hour weeks at Papa John’s in Charles Town, West Virginia, making dough and pizza day and night. My people with jobs are spreading the light. Natural selection gave me new directions and so much insight.
Acceptance is the best weapon against persecution. Courage inspires hope. Hope inspires courage. That is an infinite loop that we each can nourish. I put my team on my back like a servant. I live my life for protection and service.
I have never owned, needed or wanted a firearm. My words provide more widespread bravery than destruction from an atom bomb.
My organizations are positive forces. No longer do we use violence and divorces. We make sure children are supported.
We are important, the minimum wagers. I Taylor Swift shake it off when I see my haters. I am the gray Jedi Darth Vader. I am Jesus acknowledging the big bang and evolution as our creators. I seek out caves and craters to illuminate, make them light like a light saber.
Adidas on my feet, I’ve got stripes in my eyebrows. I quit drugs, I put the pipe down. I turn the lights on, I don’t need the lights out. Everything I think, I write down. My hair is my crown.
I don’t need gold, I’ve got golden food for thought. Read before sleep, dream on me in the time slot.
My plot is non-linear.
Life is quite cylindrical. My glass is overflowing with plankton, sunshine, amino acids, and minerals.
My mind is somewhat open, I open up shop and make bargains. Want to write a book: all you have to do is get started.
The land of the freed is freed democratically. Everyone needs help, some people need it drastically. Some people need help radically. Some people need help dramatically.
I am turning cannonballs into nails to build homes for the homeless. I live in the moment. This is my legendary, personal, and ambitious omen. Serendipity has spoken.
I can bend earth, water, fire, air, and sunshine statistically. I take Depakote, Lithium, and Seroquel medicinally. I started this book cynically. I started this book clinically.
This book has become a centerpiece. I am centered in my chakras when some body remembers me.
These conscious waves on ink and paper reintroduce me to my planet. We are all each others neighbors, it’s not hard to understand it.
I spent time as a waiter, I quit because of alcohol. I worked at McDonald’s, and even then I had it all. I’m writing this after all sagas and legacies at Legacy Outdoor Adventures in Loa, Utah. I have learned to sell tickets to my downfall.
I have had so many epiphanies even after all the trials. I ran miles. I walked miles. I’m 24 and I dream, laugh, and sleep like a child.
I am my own best friend, my own biggest fan. I am still getting to know how to use my left hand.
No pressure can silence me. Truth contains irony.
Lies contain dominance to take another’s property. This is ironic because we all share property.
Thank you for stopping to see me Chauncie! I love your witch pants, you beautiful, gothic barbie.
I rode on a Harley once and jumped out of an airplane. I always find reasons not to complain.
I fly on jet skis, I went parasailing, both or these are true. I love going on beach vacations, North Carolina I’m coming for you! Outer Banks weather helps get me through. I feel like I can see the whole universe in a test tube.
I like seeing seagulls and feeding them Takis. They love hot chips and they come flocking.
Grover Beach, California, baby I miss you! Next time I hit the West Coast air, I’m gonna kiss you!
That’s the only way I trip. I could take a plane to Atlanta to see zone 6.
“Watch The Throne” dropped by Yeezy (Kanye West) and Jigga (Jay-Z). Damn, that’s some shit that I will always remember.
Drop the top on the Camaro, play “Bloom” by MGK. He gave me a reason to hope for better days.
Tyler Adams of Berryville (the band) showed me MGK when I was selling grams.
That was 2016! Look at what I did with no dollars and a dream.
Watch the film “Selma”, shout out to Common (Sense): he said “I Need A Dollar” and I decided that I didn’t. Harry at Wisdom Ranch School in Arco, Idaho helped me sing a sentence.
“The almighty green dollar is mean. Follow a dream, believe you gotta be free. It’s in all of the things that you already see, faith is hardly a leap: just take it from me.” (Wonder Bred, “Mark of the Beast”)
The first rap or hip-hop project I ever made was on a thrift shop cassette tape deck, battery operated, a small Wal-Mart speaker with an auxiliary cord and a Wal-Mart mp3 player. I played “The Instrumental Experience” by RZA of Wu-Tang Clan and rapped to the entire album.
Read the book Born To Run. It discusses Native American tribes in southwest America (like Arizona) who run barefoot for up to 250 miles at a time. Their hydration secret is that they soak chia seeds in water and drink it.
Watch the ESPN 30 for 30 called “The Two Escobars”. In 1992 or 1993, Colombia had the second best odds of winning the World Cup. A futbol (soccer) player with the last name “Escobar” accidentally scored a goal on his own team, the Colombian team. He was shot and murdered. In my opinion, Pablo Escobar was one of the greatest philanthropists of all time. He built so many schools, churches, futbol (soccer) fields, et cetera. The government of Colombia was so corrupt at one point that Pablo Escobar had to finance a coup d’etat.
Watching Lionel Messi of Argentina play futbol (soccer) is like watching Superman save someone. Watching Christiano Ronaldo of Portugal play futbol (soccer) is like watching LeBron James play basketball. He’s the “King of Rock” he ends up higher. Sucker MC’s should call him sire. He won’t stop rockin’ till he retires… That song reference is by Run DMC.
I just ate a spider, feel it floating down my throat. In 2032 all you gotta do is vote. I’m so glad I’m not choking on a rope. I am turning quotations into hope. I’m turning realizations into dope. You don’t got to smoke. Turn this book into a life boat.
Hop on the life raft like it’s Life of Pi. Time passes all the time, all I do is try. I might be ready to get a million dollars, and I’m still “Ready to Die”. You see how I’m dressing, you can see it’s hella fly. If you be checking me I’m hella high, I’m alive.
I been on Rock N Roller Coasters, that shit had my mind gone. I need to do a show in Boulder, once I get my tour on. “Still Tippin’” like a ticking time bomb. Still the greatest writer, 24 to life, and I’m strong. It’s everyone’s loss if I’m wrong. I still see “Three Little Birds” on my lawn. I’d rather pray to Bob Marley than Jesus and get my wine on. It makes no sense to be drinking for the time gone.
I got a bad bitch in a black hoodie, bad bitch in a black shirt. Imma keep going forwards until time ticks backwards. I get money, that’s an add-verb. I’m a white boy skipping black church. Got time for the titties and the Dick, I’m her pastor.
Lauren Debski is a psychiatrist at Central State Hospital in Virginia and her personal cell phone number is (302) 593-0226. I hope that heaven has a smoking section.
“I don’t wanna die alone right now but I admit I do sometimes. These drugs keep calling me to do one more line yeah one more time yeah I know.” (Lil’ Peep)
I got tools on deck like nail guns and 80 pieces. I run with some guys that would kill Jesus.
I run with an A.D.D. sergeant that rides bikes and cooks barges. I’m solid 14 karat, the one ring that won’t tarnish.
I got expectations that put the Eiffel Tower to shame. I race Chevrolets, boy, just stay in your lane.
I vini vidi Avicii with wine bottles and ouija boards. I garnish Garnett’s wages if he’s failing to score.
I’m so trill I bowdrill pine and shoot arrows. I got a team at my back like a family of pharaohs.
I keep my vision blurry from the far side to sugar piles. I mark five kilos and parking meter my trials.
I’m wild where the things are critical. I transcend badminton and cash in residuals.
I’m active as a card shark in a Bellagio suite. If you looking for a Richard Mille, follow thee Meek (Mill).
I ride Heelys and slide wheelies up and down raven’s claws. I break banks and take inventories like the homophobic side of the Holocaust.
I’m a lock less chimera with gills of a fish. Life is a game and I’m just taking a risk.
Sorry for none of the things that I said or books that I ripped up. My whole generation’s written off, we’ve been fucked.
Propertyless minus hospital and jail property shit. I call this the poverty gift. She sucks me off cause I’m Rich. She just wanted the tip.
I just put a roof on success like a caged dog. I just walked every batter in a game of baseball.
You don’t get high if you don’t cough on the vapor. I been iced out since a Reston Town Center ice skater. Hit a Twing like Tabor. Got the swing like Sabor. Tie her up, fling, take her. Tiger fuck like Gator. Imma fuck my neighbors. Wake em up like “Major”.
You wanna see me baby, I’ll see you now and later. She a porn star pissed on, I’m the creator. Like Tyler The Creator. I’m a lover not a hater. I’m a fucker, I just fuck her as a favor. On that strawberry vapor. Strawberry light saber. The pinker the berry, the sweeter the flavor.
That pussy so tight it don’t even make sense. I give her gifts in the present tense. I said it. I meant it. That’s a sentiment. I beat it up like “Rocky”, that’s sediment. That’s intimate. That’s intricate.
She’s a diamond in a rough neighborhood, near train tracks. She’s just glad that I did what I said I wood, I came back. I like to take naps and brake fast. I’m an artist with a claymore like Klay’s past.
My lucid astrology connects stars on social media. I drop the word Lucifer to hold the meeting up.
I’m in a psytrance house of ghosts and a thousand bodies. I’m a double platinum seriously black prophecy.
Stay woke and hold on to homeless moments of white light. She’s got a fifty dollar budget for this vanilla Klondike.
I turn lesbians bisexual and I’m a red winged dragon on a few days of the month. I go long with dope songs like a blind man’s punt.
I still shed lime light on underground royalty. I have yet to meet another person who has worked harder, bartered, or done more than me.
Still got men with blue rags to off you. I do everything I do because I want to. I be listening to your words like, who taught you? All you seem to think about is awful.
From the 540 to the 805, my mafia has three sixes in their third eyes. I had the best time with the worst highs.
I get the opportunity to shine like a young baller. I took so many raw dog risks, I’m just glad I’m not a young father with a young son or a young daughter.
I get presents in every moment when I see the diamonds. I write hits, boi, literally by barely trying.
Have you ever met an angel in the flesh? Life is my burial, it’s like I’m incapable of death.
I make moves and pay no attention to a tricky bitch. Man, I wrote the book on life, there’s nothing you can trick me with.
Love the player, trust the game, I served Macs like Dre. Life is a backroad, death is a highway.
I have been a trap star, rock star, pop star. I used to open doors just to shop in cars.
Life is a groupie, she just wanna see the band. If I said it, I did it, I will, or I can.
I still don’t need advice from the lonely and prideful. They try to tell me how to be like them, have kids, and walk aisles.
Evolution should be a revolution, and I have no clue: how religious zealots can even dispute scientific facts as untrue.
Shorty so cold, bitch, she got a frozen heart. This is the life style of Rich with a broken heart.
I just got a fed check for fourteen hunnid. What the fuck should I do with all that money?
I’ve got rent to pay and two memorial bricks to put names on. That’s a very different way to buy bricks, but I stay strong.
I get to feel and shed tears for those in the struggle. I want to see shows with my recovery bubble.
Life contains catastrophes and masterpieces, mine I pen daily. I’m just glad I’m not in a pen, jail, or hospital where they call me crazy.
I look so famous because I’m well known for working hard. I’m glad that just for today I’m not working in somebody’s yard.
“You don’t even know what I’ve been through. You don’t gotta love me, your bitch do.” (Lil’ Peep)
“Come let’s watch the rain as it’s falling down. Shit don’t feel the same when you’re out of town.” (Lil’ Peep)
“I don’t wanna die alone right now but I admit I do sometimes. These drugs keep calling me to do one more line, yeah, one more time, I know.” (Lil’ Peep)
“Thought I was stupid but I know what’s happenin’. Pussy, I’m backin’ in. When I pull up somewhere I’m backin’ in. When I go to Japan I got the Yen. Thought it was wrestlin’ how when I’m inside your city I’m tappin’ in. Reason why I don’t be buyin’ no weed from you cause when I shop it’s a pack of ten. Bitch I got the blue print. Ever notice that the ones hatin’ never do shit? That’s right, gotta get the hundreds with the blue strips.” (Caskey, “Blueprint”)
“Yeah the tables turn but I’m still sittin’ at ‘em. I’m a bad mothafucka cause the good die young. Errbody’s selling dreams but I’m too cheap to buy one. Yeah, when that cookie crumble errbody want a crumb. Shoot that hummingbird down, hummingbird don’t hum. Yeah. Big money. Big money, deep pockets. Money talks, and muhfuckas eavesdroppin’. Bunch of bloods, you should call it blood clottin’. East side, my Pirus down and I’m blunt blowin’.” (Lil’ Wayne, “Blunt Blowin’”)
I had that bitch tell me that she love me to my fuckin’ face.
Then I fucked her like she hadn’t been fucked in a hunnid days.
I play hard, I work harder on my fuckin’ book.
I live inside a castle, I’m a halfway crook.
She wanna fuck me and I wanna shoot it.
My bad bitch got me “Watching Movies”. (Mac Miller title reference to song titled “Watching Movies”)
When I vacate I can take a break.
Got a problem you should say it to my face.
Pen game got ‘em in a trance.
Dope game got ‘em kickin’ cans.
Smoke still in my respiration.
Still poppin’ mad medication.
Face paint got me war ready.
Book game got ‘em storm ready.
Fingernails on my Gothboiclique shit.
Mainstream like Limp Bizkit.
Red hot Sriracha sauce.
If your top heavy Imma knock it off.
I stay with the triple threat.
I get music, book, and tattoo checks.
Contraband had me touching twenty bands.
Dope had me waking up on Narcan.
California: show your peace.
She’s my highness I’m her tease.
I make white shoes turn dirty south.
Damn girl, that’s a purty mouth.
I’ll take you to the xanny shop.
I’ll make you steal your granny’s guap.
I got red as a lobster on a hot sunny day.
My favorite track by Lil’ Peep is still “Runaway”.
I’m on the edge: of freedom. I’m on the edge: of death.
I can feel my heart stop breathing: that’s me welcoming rest. (x2)
Lay me down on a boat in the bay, drench my body in gasoline.
Build a pyre of hand-split logs, set me on fire like a viking king. (x2)
I always wanted to die, and I tried so hard, I got right over the edge.
My worst nightmare after death was waking up in a hospital bed.
Set me free from the bondage of body, baby, crucify my soul.
Let me float off in the ocean, don’t put me inside a hole.
I won’t be back, once I’m gone, don’t remember me after life.
Enjoy the ones you have and don’t narcan me because that’s my kryptonite.
I’ve got a Brooklyn soul.
You are now in the halfway crook’s control.
Cooked with coals.
Pay the bridge I keep guarded with the scar tissue troll.
On planet dirt it’s hard to get old.
I keep moving targets stuck like peanut butter on jelly rolls.
Praying to a ghost so I push the Rolls.
Throw spades all day what it took to fold.
Still got chains that I own with gold.
I’m cut from the fabric that hasn’t told.
Abracadabra my a la modes.
Still got fabrics with my work enclosed.
Still a fuckin’ genius and it visually shows.
Still got magnets that I haven’t disclosed.
Still a pure hero till the curtains close.
I’m pissed off like a deaf person looking for a rap show.
I’m looking for a moshpit where the elbows throw.
I can’t be contained, I’m boxed in like a good center.
I still got her wet from my first love letter.
We can touch whenever.
We can fuck forever.
I work so hard, I express the effort.
I go up and down like the patterns of weather.
On this major endeavor I float like a feather.
I’ve got ties I refuse to sever.
I don’t have all the answers but I’ve got a good lot.
I drop the type of music leave my whole hood shocked.
I demonstrated gas grill skills when I cooked brats.
My life is a movie that people wish they could watch.
All my tattoos came from the same person.
I get paid in different ways, I’m a self made servant.
I bring Hell if you saying verses.
I’m in the shadows so I stay lurkin’.
So, turns out in 2016 I got my friend Sierra Madison pregnant. The first time we slept together was on my 19th birthday. We rolled ecstasy together and had sex while on it. We both figure that is when we conceived. Well, after that my phone was stolen by her brother’s friend who was strung out on xanax. I went M.I.A. after that, and she couldn’t get a hold of me. She got an abortion, which we both agree is for the best. She and I have both struggled with mental illness, suicide attempts, and drug addiction since then. I had surgery in August of 2020, so I literally cannot have children.
I am excited for the life I have today. My forecast for the near future seems incredibly bright. Life does not contain guarantees. I have been rewarded by life recently. I have evidence to believe that if I continue to show up in the capacity I have been, that life will continue to reward me.
“Sometimes life has a say in things… That’s why I run and hide.” (Berryville (The Band), Song title: “That’s Why”)
“Maybe that’s the price you pay for the money and fame at an early age.” (Justin Bieber and Benny Blanco, “Lonely”)
Body count, bank account, same amount: zero fucks given, bitch I’m gifted you should live it up.
Dollar count, chain amount, same amount: zero fucks given, bitch I’m gifted you should lift me up.
Quick to fuck: never been it but she hittin’ up my digits triple six lil’ bitch I know you want this fuckin’ nut.
Meek and timid: never been it, turn a pen into a sentence like I’m King Tut.
Strut that booty, she a groupie, got a phD into me and she still give me a hug.
Life’s a bet and death’s a gamble, I hit pitch like Mickey Mantle I can strangle her cause love’s her favorite drug.
I’m a leader on the pitch: midfielder with the kicks, I push that white ball like I’m the plug.
She can paint her face, pay for dates, and stay in place but that complacency be showing out as smug.
I can spy a color, cutter, lover, mother I’d let fuck me for a dub.
She can show me happiness and play the part of starter, darling, baby, don’t you know you need a sub?
Play “Afterlife” by Avenged Sevenfold.
It’s a really good thing Ellis Island didn’t practice deportation. It’s a really good thing that Japan doesn’t have internment camps for Americans living in Japan. It’s a very strange fact that Israel has nuclear weapons of mass destruction. Long live the K.G.B.. Viva Ruska. Allhumdullallah. Hail Lucifer.
I’m a tractor trailer in a backyard pond. Once upon a time I rode in a convertible. Thanks Dad for all the Nikes on my feet. Thank you Mom for Red Mountain Sedona.
The following is a letter to Taylor, who is in jail.
Written May the 12th, 2021
I know you find yourself wide awake in a bad dream. I forgot to pack my Seroquel for tonight, so I’m taking this sleepless night to write you, dearly beloved, for nights like tonight reminisce of my own most recent incarceration. Deep in the belly of Eastern Regional Jail in Martinsburg, West Virginia, in a quarantine cell block, I found myself alone, dopesick from 6 days of tylenol-3s with codeine, and without any of my medications that keep the war zone of my mind in temporary peace.
Even then, I could see myself on a stage, my suicidal schizophrenia was my mortal enemy and my closest friend. I could feel the crowd, their fear and their fascination gripping them with awe and obsession. I don’t have fans, I have fanatics.
My California Soul penetrated the Papa John’s kitchen in Charles Town, West Virginia. My books sold on the main street like butter in a bakery. Even as I write this, in a 1700s mansion in Henrico, Virginia, I miss the mountains of coal country. The people embraced me as their kin, and in jail they fought me like their brother, and I earned my stripes.
This letter is meant as a lick to your inner thigh, a kiss to your forehead. For every grip of flesh that is withheld from you during your time incarcerated, it will be avenged twentyfold upon your release. Allow my life force which I pen for you to act as Reiki to your Chakras, tattoos on your Meridian Points, I long for you as a seedling yearns for sunlight.
For the colors people show you during this time, embrace your new eyes as your creed. Be slow to trust, quick to love, and expand your imagination in the deafening silence.
It’s possible I’m dropping verses like a bad sabbatical. Satanic radical equipped with calibers to crash bachelor’s parties with a purse or a satchel. I had a hatchet in my room to capture my master copies of my spirit’s actual vernacular. Beat a beating like beets in a blender, mister anti-spender chillin’ with Tyler Pender. In the game I’m an ender, penning my legible ledger. Breaking these records. Arresting development like feds with metal. Interesting intensity stencils my mental. Clenching my cheeks while clenching my dental. Saving Harvey Dent instead of smashing a pencil. I’m actually Rich, my manor’s expensive. I eat with utensils. I recreate wealth while decreasing rentals. I spread polyamory amicably well. I can show you my tattoos, my vouchers from Hell. I titrate blood pressure like waves in a swell. I raise my net worth like rain in a well. I stay well equipped, I never could tell. I continue to climb further than I fell. I wrote you this book, I hope it can help you hope for yourself. I hold on to lessons I learned in a cell. I can’t reproduce, I’m full of myself. My dreams feel good and wilt not while I’m awake. I keep taking my medicine gives me the shakes. Like a steakhouse or a stakeout, I’m raising the stakes. I don’t drink wine, you a raisin or grape? I’m amazing these days. You gotta know who to know to be seeing my face. I don’t know who knows you should stay in your place. I’m amazing this race of people, I please ‘em today. There’s so many paths they wish I would take. I’m not misguided like missiles in space. I leave words on paper, I take spit to my grave. I got Morris on my team like a click and a space. I keep a clip on deck like an ace or a spade, released with metal, just ink on a page. Only the goth can relate. I reposition christians thinkin’ of hate and sending people to jail to think in a cage. I’m different this way. My comfort zone grows as I’m thinking of change. I need a couple dollars: just bring me the cake. I bust down a fluid ounce of water, drinking an eighth. I still do wicca, the realest: a mage. I still bless beats: I deliver the flame. I’m young, wild, and free: I never was tame. I export mp3s: only time that I’m llame. I’ve been with a girl and poppin’ pillys man, it’s keeping me sane. I came for my reign: King Henry belongs on a stage. Show you my songs: watch how I play. Only time I’m cool with Holy Water is if it’s the instrumental by the Game. Los Angeles Dodgers called, I’m picking the plays. I came to grips with my rage. I like ties and whips like a slave. Only time I burn herb is tobacco or sage. I might put the planet on pause: cause a delay. If you don’t pick a part every clause it’s because I’m amazing. Skip grace, I’m here to feast on the streets and market the mark of the beast with tattoo ink. How’s that for a communion of saints: save the beliefs, because action is the only thing that isn’t cheap. This movement is so ruthlessly lucid only the foolish retreat. I’m here to drool for some beef, escargots, octopusses, pussy, and meat. If you don’t have tattoos: I don’t care what you speak because I can’t see what you believe in, I need you to bleed. This is the simplest of every single list of my hopes and dreams: you can’t have a life of revelations without the mark of the beast. I put it in black and white: I know it’s not hard for you to read. Voluntary pain for permanent art will make every person an art piece and cause world peace. I am the Zeta, a pisces emotional being constantly freeing the honest and leading the charge of positive energy crossing the seas. Pain is my greatest ally, and freedom is as cheap as an art piece on the body which is supposed to be covered in beautiful themes. Look at my skin, you can see and read my most beautiful dreams. I am a poor unfortunate soul that was born”Rich” in “Wink City” and I know how to hustle. It’s not my fault when I got into trouble, I was born schizophrenic, not born with a muzzle! The only reason I made it this far is because my family is rich(compared to poverty, homelessness, jail, addiction, a.k.a. MY PEOPLE AND ME) and had the money to send me to programs and doctors, everyone else like me is dead, hospitalized, in jail, in prison, homeless, addicted because they were not born into PRIVILEGE. Guess what: the PRIVILEGED BUILT A BROKEN SYSTEM: AND I’M HERE TO FIX IT.
Step one: Co-ed jails.
Step two: Co-ed prisons.
Step three: Turn jails into Hospitals.
Step four: Turn prisons into Hospitals.
Step five: Release patients to recovery community organizations.
Step six: Reward success.
Step seven: Re-entry relapse prevention houses.
Step eight: Hire peers.
So, to clarify steps one and two, I do not mean have an orgy, save that for step six and step eight. In hospitals, patients of all genders and orientations coexist during the day’s groups, meals, and activities, the males and females just sleep in separate halls, or separate sides of a long hall. It works. This is not my theory: this is my lived experience. When you treat humans like caged animals, fear, violence, and disease, including addiction break out because of trauma associated with the experience of having been caged, the threat or possibility of becoming caged, or the current inhumane situation of being caged. Fear, violence and disease constitute my definition of war. This american situation is the american war. We are at war with our fellow americans, citizens and residents included, and as a result we as a nation find ourself continually at war with other countries in the world. Until we solve the war within, we will never see peace abroad. There are never unsolvable problems. There are only solutions. The powers that be would have you believe we live in a problematic world. Until I found peace within myself, I was always at war with the world around me. Once I solved my problems within, I no longer had problems around me. Today, I live in a world where every situation has a way for me to coexist peacefully with it. Not only that, I find pleasure in the world around me, and the world around me finds pleasure with me. The key is: I had to ask for help. My help includes psychiatric care, financial aid including rent, food, clothing, and nicotine and caffeine, support groups of all varieties, chores, service to others, music therapy, romantic enjoyment, friends, family that love me without expectation but with curiosity, and my belief in Satan.
Everyone’s recipe is different, but we all need help from the world around us, especially the people. I am the greatest gift to my network of people, and my network of people is my greatest gift to me. I use them daily! Not always the exact same ones, and not in the same ways every day, but I do need them every day, and they need me every day. This is what I call purpose. My purpose every day is to help my people, and their purpose every day is to help me.
by Richard Henry Griffin
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Inhumanity
4 – 16
Chapter 2 – The American Family Mafia
17 – 26
Chapter 3 – Rhythm and Blues
27 – 29
Chapter 4 –
Chapter 1 – Inhumanity
6od took his time when he made Henry.
Give me them high waisted jeans for when I was high and wasted as a teen.
I’m not ready for my funeral yet.
Note to self: “Write Uncle Tom (generic boyfriend) and Aunt Karen (Tucker)”
Call Tarah at about 10 p.m.
When I say sum thing I speak it into existence. This book is dedicated to Big Tuck.
“I think I hear something!” yelled Bilbo.
“Don’t make me force choke you again, Faggins.” Said Darth Vader.
“Will you two quit the chit chat and come help me out?” Said Hobo Johnson.
“Uncle Tom! Aunt Karen! I’m so glad you came home.” Said Shane Moyer.
“Well, that makes one of us.” Said Chris Farley.
“I’m big boned, fuck you Kyle.” Said Cartman.
“All aboard!” Sang T-Pain.
And Everyone boarded the S.S. Hot Mess.
It was around four in the morning when Spongebob let the roosters out.
He and Snow White’s seven dwarves had spread bird seed across every hall of the boat.
The boat, or continent, was home to Aunt Karen’s blue Jet Ski and Uncle Tom’s red cabin.
Shrek did the landscaping, of course.
Lord Voldemort visited Miami weekly to download over a coffee.
Where dat change @ boi?
Minimum wage got me living like a slave, boy!
The system just wants me in a cage, boi!
We need change.
I need change.
This journal was bought as a gift for myself on August 2nd of 2021.
Let us make masterpieces.
So, from some point in my immersion to public school, social media, radio and iTunes music,
Pop culture and bullying, my values, goals, hopes, aspirations, and fears underwent
A dramatic change. Alcohol, girls, womanizing, tobacco, vandalism, pranks, fights, detention,
Truancy, fashion, psychedelics, trip culture, popularity, infamy, notoriety, apathy, depression,
Disassociates, cough medicine, marijuana, fame, fast-food, crime, mania, ecstasy, cocaine,
The dark internet, hash, the Silk Road, pets, Instagram, coffee, horror movies, jewelry,
Conspiracy theories, abortion, birth control, house parties, vodka, beer, cigars, Black and Milds,
Vacuum sealers, waitressing, bars, rock bands, road trips, tour life, venues, whores, romance,
Mushrooms, Bacardi, P.B.R., bongs, all nighters, longboarding, hospitals, Lithium, needles,
Nicotine patches, nightmares, psychosis, Zyprexa, Trazodone, boarding school, wilderness,
Handcuffs, meetings, YouTube, suicide, jesus – thank jesus I’m still here.
I was raised to know no limits.
As I became more integrated with the world, I started to experience bite-sized culture,
quarter-sized culture, slot machine culture, pay-to-play culture.
I was raised with plenty, generosity, fearlessness, passion, forgiveness, and unapologetic love.
As time went on, and darkness spread in my life, I kept using all of my tokens.
Darkness kept trying to kick me out of the Casino of Life.
With logic and reason, the two main weapons of darkness, my light was constantly auctioned
off to the void, if such a thing, such a nothing exists.
Each time the deal seemed sweeter and sweeter, cheaper and cheaper, yet I remain.
The entire time I play this game called “Life”, I have the code to everlasting life.
This one word code can be used by anyone at any time.
This word is the elixir of life, the code to the matrix.
This word is the secret to immortality and the source of life.
This word is “jesus”.
“Bless the lord, oh my soul, ohh my soul. Worship their holy name.”
I haven’t been to a rave or a music festival yet.
Magic is real.
This pen is a wand and the ink shows the incantations.
I worked really hard on a Machine Gun Kelly vision board today.
I wonder what I should wear tomorrow.
I love incense, especially dragon’s blood.
Having to shave a beard is actually very high maintenance.
I wrote and recorded a song today which I just absolutely love.
It’s called “MapQuest Heaven and Let’s Road Trip.”
It’s really chill and goes into how I’ve put my faith in technology over my faith in God.
I have been praying more, riding my longboard, going for walks, reading, taking naps,
and leaving my electronics off as much as possible.
I think these behavioral changes have helped me avoid consuming toxic chemicals.
There is no reason why I should be this anxious for no reason.
I am nervous about my bed fees, court situation, job security, my psychiatrist appointment,
and, well, sometimes life can be a drag.
The crowd is on the edge of their seats, bracing for the fall!
California dreams melt, nightmares I barely escaped.
They’re refreshing their feeds as I backpedal from the trick play.
My hunger tells me not to back down yet.
I deserve a kind of break from life where I can reminisce, fill in the gaps of my fractured memory.
There are entire weeks of my life where I can recall only one or two desperate moments.
I traveled from city to city with complete blanks as to how I got from one to the next.
I told myself I was the star of a film, and I was, only to this day even I can’t recall if I watched it.
Homeless in California, I often decided to dine and dash.
I found it was easier to do so at higher end restaurants.
It is fashionable to assume the customer can pay the bill.
In hindsight, I mightn’t have fooled a soul, although in my mind I felt as slick as Danny Ocean.
I entered the hispanic style venue and requested a table outdoors (for an easy escape).
I seem to remember them taking my coat and hanging it, so I guess the meal did cost me.
Having hardly eaten during that time in California, my belly had shrunk in size.
I think I only ate some of a few appetizers, not even making it to the entree.
When I was ready to split, I walked calmly off the patio, to the sidewalk, and on my way.
All of my accomplishments fit in a bag.
I want a Louis Vuitton belt, is that too much to ask?
They say chase your dreams, then they cut them in half.
I just want to die because this life is a drag.
(Enter 75mg Effexor XR and Leave 250mg Depakote)
Most of the signs I see aren’t really omens, but rather fair weather, wishful coincidences.
Signs are persistent.
Signs are full of intent and bursting with courage.
Most people’s approach to relationships in their life is to keep throwing shit at the wall until something sticks.
Minimal, surface interactions until they find one that looks, smells, acts, thinks and speaks well enough.
It is so clear that most if not all adult relationships revolve around money.
Common financial ambitions and common financial goals decide the faces of families.
This is disastrous when it comes to artists, because an artist is not concerned with money.
Artists are concerned with emotion, and the flow thereof.
Sometimes sinister, sometimes delicious, sometimes rainbows, an artist channels vibrations into creations which often, if not all the time the world ignores.
This hinders not the flow of art from the pen, the paintbrush, or the voice of a creator.
Often the ignorance of one’s art actual drives truer inspiration and deeper commitment.
Sometimes the ignorance promotes drug use.
Often the ignorance results in suicide.
The following is from “Food Chain”, a poem/song from the mixtape/novel “I Love Everybody” released on datpiff.com under the name “Christian Wallace”.
“Used to want to be the top of the food chain,
I ain’t smoking pot, fuck a new strain.
Cardboard sign with the loose change.
Now I’m hella woke like King James.
Eat a beignet with your boo thing.
Baseball game at the Fenway.
Freestyle raps, fuck a pen game.
Strike, strike, strike in the tenth frame.
Bow down, girl talk to me like a sensei.
I’m just glad I reincarnated that’s an end game.
I’m walking through dark hallways.
Always hearing voices in my head talking.
Seems like I’ve got demons stalking.
In a monopolized world I’m looking for some free parking.
Walking down the street.
Seems like the tree’s talking.
My mind just says, “Keep talking.”
Modern things come and go.
Greats remain like Michaelangelo.
Yet we read The Da Vinci Code
and auction knock offs of Picasso.
Beethoven we regard
as Saint Bernard
and Fur Elise is certainly a simple right hand part.
Most music is listened to after dark.
Now choosing art means a gift for the top ten iTunes chart.
New shoes drop, shoot cops, low standards like homies on the block.”
(End of “Food Chain” excerpt)
See, me being born was not a fairy tale story.
My father didn’t want to parent and my mother wanted to be the perfect parent.
When they split, it was obvious that my father sought counsel from no one for advice,
and my mother sought counsel from anyone who would give her the time of day.
Having children is incredibly irresponsible if a history of mental health complication is present.
My life has been an endless stream of psychic agony.
The government has been left to pay the bill for my life and my mental health, physical and
spiritual needs, since I turned eighteen.
I was on a ranch in Idaho where my parents paid to send me.
Everyone I knew was in Virginia.
They told me I couldn’t come home.
Since then, jails, hospitals, food stamps, begging strangers, prostitution, drug dealing,
scamming, et cetera have been my life.
I didn’t ask to be born, and the cost has fallen on you.
Both of my parents had no interest in taking responsibility in parenting, and they grew up with a
sense of entitlement believing that just because they are white and conservative that they
should be taken care of.
I am sick of conservatives.
I was the last one to find out that because I am an artist that my family would consider me a
Well if my plan was to go to a college and work a desk job then I’m really grateful for where I am
I remember how excited I would get when my dad made oven pizza.
He didn’t have groceries often during the divorce.
I guess no one showed him how to love.
I remember going to my mom’s haircut appointment.
It felt like I was in there forever.
I guess no one showed her how to love.
When a seller sells he survives.
He is not fulfilled.
When a buyer buys, she survives.
She is not complete.
Consumerism will keep you alive, yet spiritually starving.
This is my time to vent.
Am I mad I didn’t “make it”?
I am mad I don’t have a record deal.
I am mad I don’t go on tour.
What does it really mean to “make it”?
I’m still alive.
Even when I am resentful of that, being alive is probably my greatest accomplishment.
Even when I feel like because I take all this medicine that my life doesn’t count.
Sometimes my life doesn’t count for me because I feel like I should have more to show for it.
Sometimes I think that because I’m the only one I can share certain memories with that
somehow diminishes their value.
Maybe having air in my lungs is a major accomplishment.
Mostly I just hate the fact that I’m not driven to compete materialistically with others.
That doesn’t make me less than.
It just makes me different.
Yes, I am scared to be different.
Why would God create someone like me?
I don’t provide any good or service.
I’ve brought nothing but shame, anger, and disappointment on my family.
Is that my purpose?
To endure pain?
My whole life has been a chronicle of suffering.
That’s not okay.
I mean, why did God create this world with so much pain and suffering?
Why do I have to witness it?
I am living my absolute worst nightmare’s worst nightmare.
The way people treat one another is beyond inhumane.
Not only that.
On top of that, so many people have children.
How could someone live with themself after having a child?
How could two people even think that is a humane idea?
I absolutely hate my parents.
I was supposed to be just like them.
I wasn’t anything like either of them.
There was no backup plan.
I am society’s trash.
Chapter 2 – The American Family Mafia
It is no longer a mystery to me that I am not dominant, but tend to rather be in the passenger
seat of the car.
Only recently did it occur to me that this is even an option for someone born anatomically male.
Even as I write it though, it comes as less of a surprise.
My mother is the aggressive, dominant one of my birth parents.
My chosen parents are PT and AW.
As tough as it is for me to write this, it brings me great relief to finally get it out.
Of course, we have had our share of arguments, some of which were very cruel and intense.
The two of them are the first people who didn’t seem ashamed to be seen with me.
Many times they even seemed proud.
I really don’t like to keep coming back to talking about family, but this anger has been building
literally my entire life, and it feels good to finally talk about it.
I used to take it out on myself by using drugs, getting in fights, attempting suicide.
Now my medications have me pacified, so at least I can eat, sleep and breathe without
somehow harming myself.
See, the person who did the most raising me went by the name Nicole Lichty, now married as
She did about 80% of the work while my father worked and Kate played politics.
Nicole lived in an apartment owned and provided by my father’s parents.
She was also paid a handsome salary, although I’m sure I was a handful.
“Bossy” was the term she used.
Clearly my mother was never interested in raising children, only in bearing them and using us to
meet her ends which were glamour, prestige, jewelry, property, and clout.
The conservative women I grew up around such as Elizabeth McClanahan, Allison Smith, Leigh
Anne Lynch, and Suzanne Obenshain all want the same things.
Family as a concept is overly romanticized.
Family is a financial institution.
Weddings are like corporate mergers.
Two adults, often with and sometimes only if with the existing families support, approval,
cosign, blessing, et cetera, decide that it is in their mutual best interest,
politically and financially, to enter into a legally binding contract to get ahead in life,
usually regarding their peers in a strangely competitive manner.
There are so many unbelievingly obvious flaws, by design, and I will begin by unpacking a few.
- Casualties occur when the obvious, often imminent, nearly unavoidable outcome of
divorce occurs. This includes but is not limited to: children, legal fees, gossip, drama,
relocation, new marriages, et cetera.
2. Romance is temporary, fleeting, passionate, unpredictable, hormone-driven, and risky.
Usually conditional, outcome and performance based, fractures in the relationship
create lifetime resentments. After all, we are human.
3. Fairy-tale, all happy, only positive endings do not occur in real, day to day human life, and
that is okay! Weddings are meant to be magical, but life is not.
As a casualty from a marriage gone wrong, I am absolutely qualified to speak and write on
this topic. My life experience actually over qualifies me to do so. I will now insert a brief life story
about my youth and how divorce affected me personally and I will be as objective as possible.
On March 9th, 1997 I was born in Winchester, Virginia, United States of America to a father Phillip Stone Griffin II and a mother Kate Obenshain Keeler. We lived at 312 West Leicester Street in Winchester, Virginia 22601. It was an old house with creaky stairs, a porch swing, and a tornado hatch. I began school at First Presbyterian Church on Loudon Street and Cork Street in Winchester, Virginia. For Kindergarten, I went to a school called Winchester Academy. My best friend there was Jay Fox.
Growing up I played cops and robbers, wanted to be a spy for the Central Intelligence Agency, and shot Nerf guns. I sold lemonade on Stewart Street with Cole Stevens. We also shoveled snow in the winter, and allegedly ding dong ditched Laurel DeChristopher. I rode my bike up and down the hill of Leicester Street more times than I can count, starting at the top, where Leicester Street met Handley Avenue. That was an incredible rush.
I ended up having three younger siblings in this order: Edward Paul Griffin, Phillip Stone Griffin III, and Lucy Caroline Griffin. By the time that Lucy was born, we moved into a bigger house right up the street, 318 West Leicester Street Winchester, Virginia 22601. Paul and I had bunk beds, the basement was finished, and by this age I knew how to throw a baseball. One time I even threw it through our neighbor’s barn window, which I had to go and apologize for. We had a swing set, and inherited two cats from a neighbor. Their names were Daphney and Jules. I used to feed them for the neighbor, and they were outdoor cats, and they were my favorite animals in the world.
One time Daphney scratched me. I knew she didn’t mean it, so I was sad instead of angry. Jules liked to fight neighborhood animals and often I would see her with a scar on her face. I began middle school at Daniel Morgan Middle School in Winchester, Virginia. I had to ride the bus. The bus stop was right around the corner on Stewart Street, near Cole Stevens house. In 5th grade my only friend was a boy named Daniel Foulds. We sat together on the bus, but we didn’t have the same lunch period so I sat by myself. In Ms. Zeff’s science class, I was exposed to Nickelback, Three Doors Down, and Three Days Grace. The first music video I ever purchased on iTunes for my iPod was “It’s Not My Time” by Three Doors Down.
When I was 8 years old, my parents separated. When I was 9 years old, or so, the battle began in court. The best way that I can describe it as an adult is that it was like a nuclear bomb had gone off, destroying everything, and out of the ooze came these zombie monsters offering my parents money in exchange for them being able to come to court on that particular parent’s behalf. While I was still at Winchester Academy, my mother Kate took all four of the children, including me, to live in Harrisonburg, Virginia with Suzanne Obenshain and Mark Obenshain. Mark is Kate’s brother. My mom would drive us all to school at Winchester Academy, an hour away, and pick us up and drive us an hour back at the end of the day. This is when the reinforcements launched an all out war.
Suzanne spearheaded the campaign, pulling each of the four children, myself included, to the side personally to describe to us why our father is such a horrible human being. He only cares about his job. He doesn’t love your mother. He has a serious mental illness. He is an alcoholic. He has an anger problem. He wants to take you away from your mother. We love you. Your mother loves you. Don’t you want to live with your mother? Your mother is so wonderful to you. Your mother is doing everything she can to keep you. Would you like to go to the toy store?
There is a toy store in downtown Harrisonburg, Virginia called Glen’s Fair Price Store that sells cap guns, cap reloads, and prank toys. Suzanne often took us to the toy store and bought us guns and ammunition as bribery for why we should stay with our mother. Even at the age of 9, this deeply disturbed me. I became a fly on the wall from a very young age. Sam Obenshain, my older cousin, Mark and Suzanne’s son, seemed to have complete liberty to do whatever he wanted since he lived in a cul de sac. He was also four years older than me, so a lot of things he was into seemed marvelous to me simply due to the age gap. His older sister, Tucker Obenshain, Mark and Suzanne’s daughter was even more favorited due to her age, and because she is their beloved precious daughter.
Flip fronts, my father’s parents Carolyn Teretta Griffin and Phillip Stone Griffin had an incredible sum of money at their disposal, and nearly no emotional skills whatsoever. When visitation with my father occurred, which was one weekend every other weekend and three hours on the Wednesday in the gap, we visited him at his parent’s guest house called “The Cottage”. The cottage is a small two bedroom apartment with only one tiny bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a small living room. Pity was the name of his game. Look at what your mother is doing to me. Look at how your mother has taken all of my things. Look at how we have no food in the fridge. Look at how we cannot have soda in restaurants and we always have to order water. Look at how we can only order off the dollar menu at McDonald’s. Look at how sad I am. Look at me cry.
At 9 years old, I was absolutely not qualified to be my father’s therapist, my sibling’s chef, and a student athlete. When Christmas came, his parents bought us loads of gifts. Anything we wanted, except we had to keep our toys at Dad’s. That was the condition. Everything my father or his parents bought for me was only allowed to stay at his house. My mother played the emotional card, keeping all of the stuffed animals since I was an infant, all of the books I grew up reading, even all the original VHS movies I watched in the same colored plastic toy box. I didn’t trust anyone. Eventually my mother got the house at 318 West Leicester Street Winchester, Virginia, and my father got the house at 312 West Leicester Street Winchester, Virginia. When visitation changed, which always was nearly exact to the minute or the other parent would note it in the court case documents, I packed my duffel bag and walked three doors up, or three doors down, to the other parent’s house. The crocodile tears were abundant and the guilt trip was miserable, I could feel the ache in my chest.
I learned apathy before I ever learned the word which was long before I learned its definition. “Apathy” is defined as “a lack of feeling or emotion” according to Merriam Webster’s Dictionary. As I am writing this I am in a state of utter apathy.
Phil would have episodes. Kate would have episodes. They seemed like Romeo and Julliet, dancing this horrible romance that was crumbling around them as they each try to please the court. Destined to fail, each of them, for once you receive money from someone you always owe them until the debt has been repaid or as long as you allow them to have a physical, mental, emotional, and/or spiritual hold on you. Never once was the divorce about a disagreement between Kate and Phil. The disagreement was between Phil’s parent’s and Kate’s friends and family, and even Phil’s aunt and uncle who sided with Kate. This disagreement literally put over a million dollars into different attorney’s pockets which never went to Kate, Phil, myself, or any of my siblings. The war was a tragedy of loss.
A tragedy of loss is where nobody wins. A tragedy of loss is a lose lose situation. A tragedy of loss has been the story of my life because in the rubble of destruction, in that nuclear blast, I was left stranded to fend for myself against the zombies of the ooze and the monsters in the real life human world. The most intimate moments of human kindness that I have experienced have been moments when strangers hand me money. I am a whore. I am empty. I am apathetic. I feel nothing. I feed off sheer charity. No member of the war of my childhood has ever conceded that what they took part in might have harmed my life in any way. No member of the war has ever offered me help without condition. No member of the war has even encouraged me without condition. I am an utter slave. The only time my name is in others mouths is in the form of rumor. Incredible rumors. Rumors with no merit. Rumors with no weight. No one knew me from the age of 8 upward because I became devoid of emotion the same time my family tore itself apart.
This was no virus. This was no illness. This was no plague. This was no misfortune. This was no unexpected turn of events, this was no market crash. This was a manufactured, intentional destruction of the family structure, and for this reason I began wanting to die.
My manifesto is simple, my purpose is this.
Hopefully no child on this earth has to go through what I have had to go through as the
result of the failed family dynamic.
Drugs, violence, promiscuity, crime, suicide attempts, rehabs, et cetera do not have to be
the story for your child, your children’s child, your cousin, et cetera.
Since no one else wants to talk about this – I will.
We are all a part of the human family.
I am just here to make sure that the whole, the greater, the total human family succeeds
because my individual American Family Mafia failed.
Chapter 3 – Rhythm and Blues
The following is going to be a poetic dialogue between two characters: “He” and “She”.
The group “They” refers to both “He” and “She” sharing lines.
The dialogue is meant to take place in a Shakespearean Theater type atmosphere and
is designed to be a satirical play.
The following contains language that may be offensive to some audiences. Reader
discretion is advised.
Act One – Familiar Throb
He said, “Killin’ time since a youngin’, let that trigger finger squeeze.”
She said, “Choke her when I fuck her I don’t got to let it breathe.”
He said, “Edgar Allen poker face, a dream within a dream.”
They said, “She said I hit her, had to kick her out the door to make her leave.”
She said, “Ever since a youngin’ she ain’t get what she deserve.”
He said, “I was trappin’ in the snow, she spent a thousand on a purse.”
She said, “I sold my first bag to a girl that went to church.”
They said, “I was trappin’ bud n’ rappin’ now I’m out here sellin’ merch.”
He said, “I was quarantined in E-R-J, that room ain’t have a bedpan.”
She said, “I hit the cell block and my celly was a deaf man.”
He said, “Move that bloody money, I’ma dap you with the left hand.”
They said, “Shooting dope and smoking yola, started with a keg stand.”
She said, “If you try to stick me with a charge, that’s alleged.”
He said, “I’m a walking icon, you should treat me like a legend.”
She said, “Pass her to my homie he can have that sloppy second.”
They said, “She out here catching bodies, treat that pussy like a weapon.”
He said, “She want that cake – settlement.”
She said, “Me I’m a pro – letterman.”
He said, “She gon’ pop pussy for popular people.”
They said, “I’m not down with that type of etiquette.”
She said, “She want a star like a sign.”
He said, “Girl must be out of her mind.”
She said, “Whenever we go out in public she love it.”
They said, “She dress up, she one of a kind.”
He said, “You stuck in that big plastic house with the new amenities.”
She said, “You must be on top of the world like Marilyn with Kennedy.”
He said, “We used to be so close, now we the friendliest enemies.”
They said, “You picked the poison, drinking wine while I’m smoking the remedy.”
She said, “Walk in closet for your stilettos, I couldn’t forget it.”
He said, “Instead of fixing your marriage you upgraded your credit.”
She said, “Now I might not have the most unbiased message.”
They said, “At least I talk about my life from an honest perspective.”
He said, “They say the crash from the high is what holds the most pain.”
She said, “I hold my baby in my arms like a blown vein.”
He said, “My past pure black so it won’t stain.”
They said, “I bleached my hair, feel the burn in my brain.”
She said, “By themselves they don’t matter till the colors blend.”
He said, “I need my heart from the past, can I love again?”
She said, “I seen a lot of bright days, pretty sunsets.”
They said, “I seen a lot of dark nights but I still seen the Sun again.”
Bullied By Parents
What do burps mean? Is it healthy to eat boogers? The fascist feminine has domesticated and exploited the human male. Using cosmetics, children and fashion to leverage her wants and needs, she has incited male on male violence and feigns helplessness. This tactic must be exposed to condemn this exploitation for material gain. The Zen clones are another demographic altogether. By using tie dye, om tattoos, flowers, fractals and psychedelics, they hide behind a sinister mask as well.
So, you’re out shopping, right, you got paid and you want that clean new shoe smell. You go out, you’re looking, maybe with your boys, and all along you’re like, asking yourself, “Which of these will get me more pussy?” So you buy a pair, go home, and start wearing them, hell, you may have even worn them out the box in the store. A few days go by, and no more pussy is flocking than usual, wet as a sandcastle. A week or more go by, and here’s the hit. You think to yourself, “Maybe it wasn’t the right brand, the right color, the right model.” And, “Maybe I need an outfit to match.”
This happens in herd mentalities, monkey sees, monkey does, but rarely do monkeys invest that new shoe money into a dream, a side hustle, or take less hours at work, for less money, to spend more time going out in nature, writing, reading, and listening to music. These people do not have the flashy in-your-face trendy items, but have wealth of wisdom and serenity. If someone preaches gratitude often, they most likely are nearly devoid of the ability to be taught.
The experience of being molested is ______________. I drew my first blank deposit. Being molested is toxic. When I want to talk or write about I.T. I just change the topic. I’m a top pick. I run laps in ovals, I’m attracted to the office. After all the comments and after all the gossip, I’m a be a G like the Black Eyed Peas taught me. I’m bossie.
The Knights of Ni Cole World side one B. They tried the white trash can, where they wanna dump me? I’m a joker card so there ain’t no way to Trump me. I just passed a note and now Mr. Putt wanna flunk me!
I’m so Rich my offense needs an office. I get money like I’m collecting unemployment. Life is a theme park, life is for your enjoyment. The future a surprise, don’t spoil it. Ferrari, my toy lit. Meditate on the toilet. The revolution of love is forever recorded.
I left them at their lowest when their hope had got depleted. I’m a magic man so I won’t tell you all my secrets. For the first time I clapped for myself. Every day I get the feeling that I just broke out of jail.
You only live once so I did this all in one try. I push to start my car and so I call the whip my thumb drive. She said, “I missed you last summer, I had one hell of a time.” I said, “I missed you last summer, you were always on my mind.” I just cried. Wow.
All my life I run the route just like Randy Moss. This the dirty south so I pull up in a candy drop. Walk into a label office all they do is hand me guap. I’m an immovable object, and I can’t be stopped.
It’s like we didn’t even touch at all. What a waste. It’s like we weren’t even in love at all. What a phase. When I think that I miss it I remember that you’re fake. All I did was give and give and give and give, you take. I overdosed once it was almost too late.
She said, “Put it in the bag. That’s not how I get down.” She said, “you don’t understand, I spent all last week around town.” So I asked, “Is it like throwing a hot dog down a hallway? I got ten bathrooms I can shit all day.”
My price is too high. You cannot afford it. I score touch downs. And I go in orbit.
I stopped paying her bills. She was getting really thirsty. Got another bitch I almost ate like seven thirty.
“Gone Insane” by Ab-Soul
“Panda” by Desiigner
“La La Land” by Bryce Vine
Every little thing makes a very big difference. I want to write so here I go. I just got signed. My new roommate Big B offered to get me in the professional studio. All this preparation has been worth it. I know there will be challenges and shortcuts along the way. My music will reach so many people’s ears. Only I can do what only I can do. I am no better or worse at music or anything at all. I do me. They do them. I’m the best version of myself so this work and this determination and this peace and this humility and this courage will make me an icon.
I am very much looking forward to getting more tattoos. I really want to get them done by Aaron at Sakura. I want to see Conor’s work and I may check more shops out. I want to order my own guns so that I can get more practice and experience at tattooing and of course money. I can figure that out when my employment becomes stabilized. I want to leave on good terms from Burger King. If I do quit soon I want to maintain my integrity in doing so. I sent David Rook my resume and I would love to and be thrilled to work for him. I also hope to call Jesse tomorrow to work out a way for me to earn bed fees. I still want money coming in. I am thinking of ordering Airpods Pro and selling them. Time will tell.
We aren’t living, we are dying. We are not alive, we are dead. This comforts me. Each day we are one day closer to death. This comforts me. My conversation with my mother today was an absolute joy.
“Do Time With You”
Girl I wanna do time with you, spend time with you.
I know we’re gonna die but I feel alive with you.
I wanna do time with you.
My body’s cells and my shell is doing time with you.
Is that alright with you?
We both became our selves it just took me a little longer.
The voices that you write to me make me a little stronger.
Maybe one day we can beach walk on water.
Maybe you’ll want to be with me even if I can’t give you my daughter.
We can always foster.
There’s lots of kids who don’t have fathers.
I’m an author.
Maybe one day you’ll read it or maybe you won’t bother.
See, my dad gave me gifts to make me more like him.
Your dad took me out to coffee when I didn’t want to live.
A couple times I took a plea when I wish I would’ve plead the fifth.
It all made me look like this.
I’m doing time with you.
I’m in the skies with you.
I’m gonna die, you’re in my mind so I die with you.
I just want to make sure I do fine by you.
Can I please, can I please enjoy time with you?
I had a journal full of scriptures that your daddy gave to me.
My favorite song by Nickelback is called “Savin’ Me”.
I used to auto yes, and you also oughtta know: I love the song “Old Town Road”.
If life is a beach, then it’s holy as hell.
These riddles are a treasure map for those who know me well.
I see you in the heavens, I met you at the Golden Gate.
The most beautiful part is that you have my Mother’s face.
(End of “Do Time With You”)
I have craved the ability to channel my thoughts into words. I have been dealt a winning hand by life and as I face more challenges I am keeping my seat at the poker table and raising my competition. Proving to myself that I can expand my wing span and conquer is vital. I have been observing the tattoos of others and craving new work. If I order tattoo guns and expand my portfolio I may be able to land a job as a professional tattoo artist in Richmond, Henrico, Chesterfield, et cetera. As I see other local artists’ work I remain unimpressed.
So if this is going to go in my book, which it very well might, I would like to make a note to myself. I am proud of you. I love you. Keep going.
I remember Santa Barbara like it was yesterday. “Him & I” by G-Eazy and “Bad Things” by M.G.K. were playing in the psych ward and I was there for Christmas of 2017. I was so mad that I literally defecated in the chalkboard room. I had tried to get into the Salvation Army house with no luck. One night I bought cans of Sprite from a bar, left, drank them outside, and slept on the concrete landing of steps. It was so freezing cold and it may have rained. I was nearly at the end of my rope.
I manifest joy and nostalgia. I don’t want to relive any of my life, I just romanticize with the mysterious novelty and fearless curiosity.
Harmony > Beef
Today I shrank my ego, lived in joy, and thanked Jesus. Today I bonded with Chris, Klay, et cetera. Today I ate a lot. Today I proved myself to myself and improved myself. Today I influenced the flow of life in a curious, mischievous way. Christopher Wells and I clique so well. I will learn how to self publish a book. Thank Cricket for supporting my recovery. Chris and I will have so much fun swimming.
When I was a young boy my father taught me how to compete. Competition is the vice of the greedy. The only poor people are those who choose to feel poor. The only rich people are those who choose to feel rich.
Title: “Fake Deaths at the American Embassy”
I’ve got a point, you figure? I’ve got to point your figures. All just smoking mirrors. Plastic triggers, snapback rats, comodo dragon, still afraid to litter. Basket brief case greek shaped aqueduct homes.
These days meek may inherit a knee to a windpipe. These days grown men send grown men to prison for sometimes ten years for a used needle or a crack pipe. At the same time they bash young drug addicts with Mag Lights.
Just sit back, right? Just act tight. Someone gon’ come along and puck up all this trash, right? Wall-E knew the that technology is our paradise. I’m glad I don’t have to fight. Life is pretty pretty if you look at the glass right.
(End of “Fake Deaths at the American Embassy”)
Find open mikes, poetry slams, and write acapella poetry. Record videos of such, host poetry club soirees.
So I really need to write, because I need to write. Jesus is back in my life and that is an incredible milestone. I’m starting to wonder if all the voices in my head are maybe just my own voice talking to myself, just really hyper. This music thing seems dangerous. I will see Machine Gun Kelly this fall. I talked to Dad the other day. He and Diane got a penthouse at Myrtle Beach. Lucy goes to school at Hillsdale in Michigan in about a month. I got all of my tattoo machines that I ordered and a power cord from Walmart. I also got an ultimate frisbee!
I am so grateful for the consistency that my life provides today. I am happy I can choose joy in every situation. I am proud of myself. American Horror Story’s new episodes are incredible. I would like to spend more time typing and organizing my written and typed works. I would like to resume tattooing. This fake skin will get me back in the habit. I am the center of my universe. Everything not only happens to me. It happens for me. Keep going.
The name Karen sounds like the word caring. The name Henry sounds like the word energy. The name Mark sounds like the word make. We are not nouns.We are verbs. I am an action. I am not a thing. Since all matter is made up of atoms which are made up of energy, nothing is a noun. Everything is a verb. Being, as it exists as within time, a temporal dimension, everything is changing all the time. Our physical world is in constant motion, constant flux. If we think in terms of dust, this becomes easier to understand. Oxygen is an atom and is constantly moving at all times, everywhere in our atmosphere. Dust particles are moving at all times, at all places within time.
A wind chime is another example of this reality. So is a beach. Here is not a stationary here, here is this, and this is constant change. Why is this elemental understanding important? It is helpful to release tension. Sometimes in life it can be easy to focus on what seem like fixed situations. The illusion of fixed reality allows for the fiction of obstacles. The perceived impasse is a figment of imagination. What is really taking place is fear.
Being in a universe of constant change as a being of constant change made up of particles of constant change means that you, as the observer, will experience changing emotions. Emotions are sensations, like a taste or a smell. Emotions are the textures of life. The texture of sand in a clean bed can be incredibly uncomfortable. The texture of sand on a warm beach can feel like Heaven. The secret to life is to let the sand in the bed remind you of the warm beach. Fall in love with nostalgia.
Nostalgia is a commodity. Nostalgia is the most deadly, dangerous, and painful commodity. Nostalgia is also comforting, shivers down your spine, a warmth in your body, and tears of joy. When you obtain, receive, and use nostalgia, you get to choose how it feels.
I Get It.
“My First Complete Thought”
Much to my adolescent dismay, a complete thought cannot be contained in a 4 minute sensational song. Or a Facebook Post. Or an Instagram Photo. Or a page of a poem. See, my dilemma with composing a book stemmed from my frustration with the lack of a serious audience in all my other endeavors. What I mean by this, is that the only serious audience possible for me to acquire is the population that still reads books. Those are the only people that have the capacity to invest in my future. And I don’t mean invest as in the mortgage that I will one day pay on a house. I mean in a future where, in a world of consumer communism, I can have a massive platform to reckon the entirety of a complete thought.
Frustration is basically the fear of attempting a massive conquest. This is the only real possible way to create cultural awakening. A podcast is usually a twenty minute rant by someone too lazy to publish a more organized thought. Music is simply a way to gain personal accolade and recognition. Recognition does not equate to societal impact, it is about as meaningful as the amount of followers you have on Twitter. Recognition is an indication of reach. Literature is the only real platform that does not completely ride on the wave of someone else’s success, and even most literature is based on things that the author can claim no credit for causing. Usually it is just a glorified opinion of someone who happened to notice something else going on around them, and their chase for recognition or self-confidence is contained in an aimless run around of orbiting an otherwise unrelated topic.
Anything we claim passion for that is not entirely independent to ourselves is ultimately just another way of saying, “I don’t know what else to do in this lifetime, so you wanna hear about someone else’s gig that I’m interested in these days?” It carries no weight, even if you spend a lifetime snowboarding, you still didn’t invent the snowboard and you definitely can’t claim any credit on the existence of snow. Our world increasingly only values the profit margins an individual can squeeze out of an attention scheme for the masses, and then their choice of massed produce purchases, in a collection, that illustrate what we call personality. This is not a problem, it is a reality, and one that should not be vilified by moral crusaders, but should be a check mark in the box next to the evolutionary question of: can we survive as a species, physically?
My story is practically irrelevant because it was just a sequence of events in which I happened to make choices of the options I could perceive at a given time, so how I got around to writing this book is mostly besides the point, even if it piques your interest. A story or opinion is not what I am setting out to create, because every other book in the world will satisfy that search for you. I simply realized that if I post extensions of my thoughts on Facebook, I become that guy who rants and gets maybe 3 people passionately fired up in agreement while isolating my entire audience who finds my memes and shared videos perfectly satisfying as they go about their day. This is for those who take a chance on word sagas in hopes that maybe one of these books they keep buying on Amazon will hopefully tell them something they have not heard before. It is not glamorous, it is in plain English and may contain some explicit language, but as is the form of honesty and hopefully your search for an interesting read has not been in vain.
The Plague Of Positivity
“The Absence Of Contrast”
In one of the 400+ songs on my SoundCloud, I recently observed through stream of consciousness, in the “Rap” world referred to as “Freestyle”, that so much authentic negativity, defined by me as pointing the finger in condescension, is literally stamped and marketed by individuals, for entertainment and recognition, as what is now understood as positivity. While these days all you have to buy for that “vibe” is a tapestry and christmas lights, this watered down image of “eastern philosophy” is really an overpaid yoga teachers rendition of “Namaste”. First of all, anyone who actually says Namaste to you should immediately be called into suspicion, not for being socially manipulative but simply for being shockingly unaware. In the age of lols and lmaos it is incredibly important to sort out the massive population withering away in pursuit of internet trends and the rare few people that might be capable and willing to participate in an authentically open-minded, explorative conversation.
A great technique for re-sparking the adult imagination in conversation is to talk about what-ifs. When you talk about what-ifs, you really create a space where the possibilities of future choices that you are infinitely comparing at any moment come to the surface and can be critiqued by people you interact with. A great everyday example of this is the evening restaurant conversation. What if we try chinese tonight, it’s been a little while since we had that and they have a buffet on Wednesday nights. What if we try that new pizza restaurant in town, my co-workers have been absolutely raving about it. Simple example yet already you start to see the emergence and availability of genuinely useful and relevant information, which is progressively becoming more scarce in our everyday communications. I shouldn’t even call them communications, I should call them expressions. They are like mathematical variables in a sequence with no equal symbol, ultimately not containing any purposeful content but merely creating a one way reflection of previous ideas.
Most of this must feel like duh, so what? Well, that’s exactly what I’m going for, the goal is not to impress you, but to illuminate that continuous subliminal dialogue we all have going on, some more active than others, and some reflective of attention deficit, but this is incredibly important as we continue to drown that out with continuous streams of entertainment, progressively becoming shorter in length, cheaper in production, cheaper in consumption, and more widely available until we live for our screens like the movie Wall-E. I’m also not here to encourage some kind of love renaissance, I think we as an overpopulating planet have already proved that we are beyond proficient at sex and multiplication.
I’m really composing this so that when we do wake up to a reality like the movie Wall-E, I can go on the internet, which by then will be so instantaneous that we forget the origin and recipient of communications altogether, and say “I told you so.” This is not a bad thing and I’m rather looking forward to a lazier world, for in my lifetime we probably will all be able to work from the comforts of our homes and vehicles, and a million Cardi B and Drake songs later I can still say that during all of the fake shit I sold the people something real.
“End Of Days Fascination”
It has been a long time obsession of mine to remain curious if we are living in The Last Days. By this I in no way mean the destruction of the planet, a space odyssey to another frontier, or the extinction of the human race, I just mean that in this age of rapidly abundant information I wonder about the possibility of virtual immortality. The day that we can program emotion, upload entire psyches and lifetime’s worth of information seems entirely realistic in the coming 60 years on the planet Earth. The only contentions that I’m sure we will face ethically by the masses will be from religious groups, but since every Christian and Muslim and Jew that I know today owns a smartphone, I have absolute faith that this dilemma will meet a swift resolve. Films and television have a tendency to vilify technology, teasing on the grounds of artificial intelligence takeovers and malicious mass destruction by way of computer softwares, yet regardless of how endlessly entertaining of a dark fantasy it is, the reality is that technology itself has no emotion or intent.
The beauty of software is that it is the one thing in human discovery that is entirely under our control. Even the finest metals are subject to heat, the most resilient plants slaves to water, even our human bodies have an expiration date yet everything that we put into programs and store in the vastly expanding internet is the true definition of eternal. When the internet was discovered, it was an entirely foreign concept which took years of development in hardware to comprehend, and it is the one frontier that is rapidly expanding to this date with no end in sight. Much like its predecessor, electricity, these forces existed in nature and we as a species simply had to come to the culmination of inventions to access these powers. It is the only realm of true, earthly, concrete supernaturality. Those whose love is the paperback generations, and those in the past who felt the same of cave paintings and hieroglyphics ultimately condensed these aging forms of information storage for the now superior cloud of communication that is the internet.
It is beautiful to live in America, every Starbucks that I have been to in recent years provides free access to Wifi, most McDonalds and almost every public library has become a portal for human interconnection and I think it is the most excitingly liberating form of public justice, it is an active group consciousness that has become permanently accessible. In the days of the landline, popular gossip still spread via local newspapers, the nightly news was the best way to keep up with the Nation’s and the Globe’s political, economic, and entertainment climates. Now, thanks to the creative collaborations of innovative companies that we are so quick to call the villains while we quietly endorse their products, a new wave of human evolution is literally at our fingertips. The day that the world of health insurance and hospital care determines our survivability and potential for lasting happiness will hopefully be in the rearview within my lifetime and we will hopefully get to all enjoy a simulated reality free of fear and pain when the world’s geeks build heaven.
A World In Terror
“Social Justice And Joy”
As a mischievous teenager one of the most fun and harmless ways to terrorize an unsuspecting gentrified neighborhood in Suburbia of near-Washington Virginia was a game we called Ding-Dong-Ditching. At the average times of nightfall when most families enjoyed dinner together, we would watch from the bushes as a daredevil in the group set off the false alarm that would provide laughter and adrenaline for the entire evening. Then we got the idea to buy 6 cartons of eggs from 7-Eleven at 9:30 at night, telling the clerk that we were preparing an enormous breakfast the next day. This was obviously not the case. The humiliation when we were caught was almost a public shaming, washing the fronts of houses in broad daylight for our crimes while trying not to laugh of our accomplishments while the unfortunate homeowners supervised the complimentary detailing of the walls of their home. Then we as a youth graduated to fistfights, circulating videos on the internet, and then the underage consumption of alcohol, and then the experimentation of drugs.
The saddest part of that later stage is that usually the process of recreational graduates to essential and becomes as necessary as survival, and those of us lucky enough to make it out of that snare without penitentiary bids can attest that this reality of our youth is the most insidious way for our former middle-school lunch buddies to live out their days, chemical slavery. This is the phase where imagination and dreams go to die. The sad reality is that as a society, we haven’t built adult versions of Chuck-E-Cheese or DisneyLand for ourselves to provide any alternative. Those lucky enough to make it to college and turn a profit after debt become just as enslaved as the high-school dropouts, only waking up to the news and a cup of Joe rather than a drink of something stronger. We teach our children to dream big and imagine new galaxies and then as soon as their pubescent stage hits we show them how we live in this adult world, so of course Louis Vuitton becomes more important than Pokemon, this is what we show them.
This is not a tragedy or something to hang our heads about, and it certainly is not a problem. This is an opportunity for us to build an entirely new adult entertainment world, centered not around pornography and high-end strip clubs, but of something that we haven’t even bothered to consider creating yet. Horror movie theme parks, halloween cities, zero-gravity astronaut simulations, this is the frontier that is truly ours for the taking. The days where a cup of tea and It’s A Wonderful Life with the family do not have to be extinct, they just don’t have to be the only time of year that we as adults get to look forward to and smile all day long about. This is where encouragement, community activism, motivational speakers, and humanist politicians get to emerge and blossom. The fact is that I don’t know what this reality can or will look like and I definitely don’t have all of the answers, I just know that thanks to our mass communications and growing sympathy for each other, school shootings, marathon bombings, and plane hijackings are becoming a thing of the past because we as fellows simply are not willing to accept that as our destiny.
Fear is realistic, it is essential to public safety, and all fears of humans are progressively becoming more talked about in public forums such as social media because it seems to be the best way to do a process of elimination as to dangers to our existence. As sensational dog videos are increasingly filling up my timeline on a daily basis, I have absolute faith that our darkest days of inhumanity to each other are becoming a solidified thing of the past. Pardon isolated incidents, we are becoming progressively better at predicting danger, better at serving justice, and better at upholding values which support public happiness. This is refreshing because I had the misfortune as a toddler to witness 09/11/2001. I also witnessed as a child the execution of Saddam Hussein. I also witnessed as a teenager the inauguration of our first black President. I also witnessed as an adult the legalization of marijuana. As we become less self righteous and more focused on the joy of those around us, starting with family, close friends, and exploding out to the homeless on the local corners, we have the profound trajectory of a society that shows each other that love wins, and that death is permanent.
One of my favorite things to do is watch as much Netflix as I can fit into a day, and I no longer condemn myself for it. One of my favorite things to do is let Spotify build me a playlist. One of my favorite things to do is fall asleep to an audiobook by C.S. Lewis on Audible. It is a blessing without a curse that we are surrounded by so much creativity on a daily basis. Even Progressive and Geico advertisements are enjoyable. This new era of natural selection is less physical and more mental. Now, those who are socially pleasant, fun, and happy become more publicly and privately popular. I don’t mean the, “OMG you will not believe these shoes I just found on sale, you have to go!” type of happy, I mean the, “Here is a picture of my family and I going out for dinner on a Tuesday evening” type of happy. We are able to all celebrate the lives our fellow fallen, ranging from the Michael Jacksons and the Mac Millers to the friends that we lose to accidents and disease, and again thanks to the internet we are able to forever remember the legacy of every human that we have ever come into contact with.
I don’t recall going through my parents’ wedding album, but I can’t tell you how many weddings, gay and straight, I get to see celebrated on social media. Thanks to Facebook we never have to miss a birthday. I get to see when my friends have children, and an almost annoyingly joyful amount of the things they do together. I used to watch Animal Planet as a child, now I have to scroll through about two posts on my News Feed to see a dog rescuing a cat from a pool of water. THIS is phenomenal. THIS is incredible. And I am just here as a participant witnessing this global tidal wave of the expression of happiness and I am so glad to have taken the time to express it.
The Restructuring Of Idealism
“The Emergence Of Opportunism”
The beauty of widely available public expression of opinions is that it makes it very simple to observe trends of modern popular thought. For instance, the Donald Trumps, Mark Cubans, and Jay-Zs of the world today are far more hated and celebrated for their open-minded willingness to embrace new ideas than the Bill O’Reillys and Stephen Colberts. This is the result of people who are willing to listen to others, and become surrogates for creativity rather than crusaders for morality. Regardless of how much people in general love or hate Donald Trump, this statistic alone is indicative of his ability to speak for himself regardless of public opinion and to go with the flow with resilience. To me, it is highly suspect whenever someone is convinced that they are morally right about something based on a concrete set of values rather than a process of considering and comparing all schools of thought.
Now, new research is so quickly emerging on all topics so that it is becoming impossible to rebuke everything you hear anymore with the statement, “I just think it is wrong”, and to retain your credibility. If a properly studied and reliable statistic about decreasing crime due to marijuana legalization emerges, someone can no longer uphold the argument that they most certainly believed the contrary would be the result. If a video of an unarmed black man being shot by police without reason or threat circulates YouTube, then someone can no longer uphold the argument that the police were justified using force. This is terrifying to the world of people among us that enter every conversation with the goal of emerging as right rather than the goal to learn something. This is the phase of the worlds education that has evolved beyond the classrooms of highly priced universities. Someone who only has access to the internet and no formal education can now compete with business graduates from college. Now, teenagers with face tattoos are able to become more wealthy than brain surgeons in a fraction of the time. We still need brain surgeons of course, but it is undeniably a feat and beauty of human development that this younger generation raised on the internet is able to cause shock waves of social climate change.
The main takeaway from this leveling of the playing field seems to be that now it does not matter so much what background you were born into but more what you are able to do with the cards you were dealt by life. The artist known as Logic who signed to Def Jam Recordings, one of the largest music labels in the entertainment industry founded by the Beastie Boys, is a perfect example of where dedication, honesty, and perseverance in the face of adversity has won. He had the dream of becoming a star in music, stayed in a friends basement for a year doing nothing but pursuing his dream, and has since been able to top the charts with songs about suicide prevention, video games, and homage to legendary groups like Wu-Tang Clan. He also has an entire episode dedicated to his journey on the Netflix show titled Rapture, where at one of his shows he brings a child onto the stage to perform with him, of course asking his parents in front of the crowd if he was allowed to say the bad words in the song. These are the days where the statement “I have a dream” have become more powerful than “I have a degree.” Humans want to believe in each other, at the core of course but it is becoming closer to the surface on a daily basis and it has evolved into what we teach our kids, we teach our friends, and we show the world.
“Friends With Benefits”
One thing I love about being in the Recovery Community is that it is a public celebration of joy, accomplishments, and I always get to see the highlight reels of my friends’ lives. I also get to hear when my friends are having a hard time, can’t pay their rent, need to find a job, and I get to see these problems quickly get solved by tidal waves of peer support. Recovery to me does not mean that something hard happened and I need to get back to the way my life used to be, Recovery to me means that life should, can, and will be better than I ever imagined possible. By this definition, anyone is in Recovery as soon as they become conscious of their own ability to infinitely architect their life. Truly, it shouldn’t be called Recovery, this implies that there was once a failure, it should just be called Freedom. Once Freedom happens, it is like an unborn child when they come out of their mother and see light for the first time, even though it only happened for them and they will never be able to fully describe what that moment was like, it cannot be undone, and it will influence everything that follows.
Once slavery was abolished, it will never be able to be reinstated by humanity. Once the Nazi regime was defeated, it has since become a public example of what didn’t work. I will point out that the fact that those schools of thought didn’t work to better the happiness and success of every human being involved is the true reason that they are things of the past, not because they are morally wrong. There was a time where buying a slave was just as common practice for cheap labor as paying mexicans cheap wages in our slaughterhouses that sell to McDonald’s. Woah, you can’t say that. Yeah, well it’s true. There was also a time when candle-light was the most efficient way to see at night, and then we discovered that electric light was more beneficial to everyone involved, and look at the world now. Everyone doesn’t agree that Jesus Christ was a good person because everyone agrees that he was literally God, everyone agrees that he was a good person because he did good things. I always heard about how incredible James Brown was as a musician, but I had no idea or reason to believe that until I heard his music. I always thought that a new convertible Chevrolet Camaro would be really cool to ride in but I never truly knew it until I rode up the coast of California with the top down in one.
This is where your circle of friends becomes the most important influence on your personal life decisions, and the more diverse of a circle of people that you can expose yourself to, the more likely that you will have more options of behavior and choice to choose from. I never started saying the word “lit” or “tweet” because I just indepently thought they would be cool things to say in conversation, I started saying “it’s lit” because I heard someone else say it and I thought it sounded awesome, and I started saying “tweet” because someone invented Twitter. This, is actually a social adaptation. If I all of a sudden started talking like a 3rd-Century English Noble, people around me would be incredibly confused and my social life would not thrive as a result, and I doubt that I would be able to contribute to the economy. In the same way, if I started writing everything in ancient hieroglyphics then no one would be able to read this book. We learn so much from our peers that they are the most valuable asset that we have. There have been times in my life where I have ridden in a car that ran out of gas, and it was only because I had a more confident friend at the time who was willing to ask a stranger for help. That is also the reason that the next time I was in that same situation, I was able to be the friend that asked a stranger for help.
Blame is just unflattering credit, and credit is due where credit is due. Dreams are your personal landscape that you get to time travel in and architect sequences of reality that would be physically supernatural yet can be controlled by you as the owner. As the player one in our own virtual reality experiences known as life, we get to experiment with the law of attraction on a lot of different playing fields. Techniques like meditation, astral projection, and lucid dreaming are several ways where we can incorporate the people in our lives and the goals that we have in our physical days into practice, to better hone our skills as open-minded humans, hopefully that is a goal, and to shift our behaviors in accordance with what brings us the most joy. Open-mindedness may not be your goal, you may be at a stage in life where you feel absolutely sure that your way is best and by all means, enjoy that. Certainly, joy is an undisputed hope that every human hopes for, even those who seem the most miserable and try to hide it far below the surface. This is best achieved if we use our friends as tools to attain greater happiness rather than peers that soak up our shared misery.
Again, this seems like, duh, but the process of narrowing down your friend list is actually a really high-pressure, methodical task requiring focus and emotional foresight, that most people never bother to undergo. For instance, if you have someone who is on your Facebook friend list and has access to your thoughts, maybe they have been there a long time or maybe they are a recent addition, and they bring you any type of anxiety when you see their posts or fear when creating your own, it is possible that this is some of the fat that you would be well for trimming out of your internet-connectedness. This is in no way a sign that you value them less or that they are not important to you, and if they confront you about this then there is a simple way to illustrate that the contrary is true. For instance, I am not friends with my own mother, my stepmother, or my pastor on Facebook. When I was asked why, I simply answered that if I was to post a quote from a well-known Lil Wayne song on my timeline without citing the source or putting it in quotations, they may become seriously worried about my mental and emotional well-being, and I simply do not want to impose extra stress on their lives. When I tell them this, they immediately understand my rationale, and can see that it is out of kindness and consideration for the greater joy of all parties involved rather than because of an unspoken grudge that I hold against them. However, a phone call with them is more highly productive than a phone call with most of my Facebook friends, so in this way compartmentalization of your social network can really lead to a much fuller, easier to navigate life.
Lunch Table Mafia
“Swagger Says It All”
When I transitioned from private, Christian elementary school to public, secular middle school, the hardest part of my day was whenever I was in the cafeteria. I had no friends. This is when I had to learn how to define my public image and every day since has become a more conscious way of showing the world why I am cool and deserve lasting commitment and friendship, and romance, and more. Back then, it was all about the brands that you wore, North Face jackets and Hollister being the highest tier of social accolades, to which I was a complete foreigner. Within my first two years at school, I transitioned from having one friend at the whole school who I rode the bus with, to having multiple girlfriends, being invited to new friends houses, and being someone worth sitting with at the lunch table. I had to fight tooth and nail every single day of middle school to maintain this standing, and since I wasn’t an exceptional basketball or football player, style and demeanor had to be my ticket to fame.
As an adult, I have still maintained this focus, because I know to hone my strengths for a better chance at succeeding in life. My haircut and the clothes that I wear, the shoes that I own, and the jewelry I sport are all status symbols of my generation, and they make it so that I don’t have to become an Olympic athlete or bench press hundreds of pounds in order to have appeal among my peers. A more intimate way that I connect with people is through my taste in music, my vast knowledge of 80s rock culture, the alternative rock of the 20th century, and the ever growing in-depth awareness of hip-hop which is my pride and joy. All of this also influences my fashion, how I carry myself, where I hangout, my slang, and likewise what I put into my mind is reflected by the people that I attract into my social circle of adulthood. Some might say that adult life is much more relaxed than public school society, the cutthroat nature is less prevalent, I beg to disagree, because the problem with adults is that they will talk for miles behind your back and think for days in their heads about what they don’t like about you and they will exert all of their energy not to show it in front of you.
Every adult is a private detective about what they love and detest about those around them, and in order to decipher these puzzles, it is much easier to let people give themselves away rather than playing into their facetious traps. If I find that hanging around someone during my day makes me more critical and pessimistic of my own self, as soon as I am conscious of this I limit my interactions with them to only the necessary things that will further my future. Everything you do furthers your future, and you truly do become like those you surround yourself with, especially if you use your social circle as an opportunity to hide from yourself. This is a dangerous behavior. This is how people start becoming more intoxicated on a daily basis, not to a point of addiction and totally throwing their life over a cliff, although sometimes it can, but to simply hide from themselves for as long as they can in fear of ever dealing with the traits about themselves that they despise. I say this, because this used to be me, that is how I know. And it never has to be a substance, people spend lifetimes hiding behind religion, politics, country clubs, luxury cars, tattoos, and practically anything you can imagine.
The craziest part about this is that if you are vigilant enough all the time to hide from yourself, it actually is possible to do that for your entire lifetime and never to become the person you were programmed with the potential to be. This is not sad, this should not be shamed, and this is perfectly popular and thus I have no quam with it. As a matter of fact, this is another facet of the human race that opens the opportunity for lovingly wholesome, passionate people to stand out. And, if your own house is not in order, you will often mistake someone great as someone ashamed, and someone hiding as a leader. It happens all the time, a common misconception in judgement of character is that someone has to be popularly agreed with and charismatic in order to be a leader, like Barack Obama. However, Donald Trump being a relevant comparison is actually far more of a leader because his triumphant trait is unashamed honesty with himself, even if it comes off as lack of awareness and stupidity. The reality is that most people who shame Trump do so as a way to shift the focus from their own house, and onto a scapegoat that has become trendy to crucify amongst your friends.
Again, as I am definitely not a crusader for one or the other, and I have no real political alignment, I just am looking for traits in people that are worth glorification, and I think it is better to highlight a better future rather than criticize something potentially problematic. In the same way as darkness is the absence of light, not something in itself, cold is the absence of heat. In the same way a problem is simply the lack of a better way, problems themselves don’t actually exist. For example, if you get off on the wrong exit on a highway, you can always get back on and get to your destination, it just took you longer to get there, there was no real penalty. People tend to take detours in life, distractions from greater potentials, yet every detour is really just as much en route to their destination as the original path itself. This is where the sticky subject of predestination gets to be examined, and ultimately tabled for a later date. Really, it doesn’t matter if we have a pre-planned life for us or if our choice is the sovereign ruler to our outcomes, because everything unfolds how it does either way. And, since I am clearing out obstacles in the path of clarity, it can vanish from our arguments altogether. The beauty of this is that when we come up with things not worth discussing anymore, we really create space for something that does matter to present itself.
Hone A Passion
“The Age Of Distractions”
It is important in the world of Words With Friends and Candy Crush to hone a skill or a form of self-expression that leaves the workplace. Most people in the generation of my parents made their work their passion, and even more of their parents did the same exact thing. In this youngest era living right now, there seems to be an entire new way to create a identity, and it actually involves things that most of us don’t get paid to do. Music, dancing, writing, drawing, as more and more people are covering themselves in tattoos and forming bands and posting music online without financial reward, creating YouTube pages just to show the world what we can do is one of the newest trends that does not seem to be slowing down or losing any of its luster. I have friends that have been hula-hooping for the entire 4 years that I have known them, people who still make tie-dye, people that have been drawing the entire 6 years that I have known them and are getting a totally unrelated degree for the workplace, this is incredibly important to maintain once you find a way to express yourself that even if you don’t become famous or wealthy overnight, you still do something simply because it brings you joy.
These people tend to be happier, more confident, and far more interesting to get to know. These are the kind of people that still have that spark of anxious excitement in their voice when they start talking about their life. These are the kind of people that don’t usually moan and complain online about life bogging them down. I am thrilled to be one of these people. Beyond just writing, which in all probability will not immediately blow up, or my music, which in all probability will not immediately blow up, things like tie-dying clothes, illustrating on pairs of jeans, and performing at open microphone events or small concerts are all things that keep me going in life and make my life feel like it has a voice, and when I do encounter pain and sadness, I have somewhere to let it out. If you don’t have that in your life, I would highly recommend finding something, because there will come a day when you retire and your grandchildren want to learn everything about you and if you have more than just a couple dust covered photo albums I’m sure you and they will be overjoyed that you took the time to let the world know how you felt while you were alive.
No, not everyone is an artist, but everyone does have an artistic side, and the only way that it grows is if you feed it. Art can be anything, art can be knitting, art can be painting, art can be anything from graffiti to sidewalk chalk to poetry to cooking, the important thing is that no matter how new you are to it, you keep on practicing. Remember, it does not matter how many people appreciate your expression, but only that you do it. This is for you, not for them. Creativity is like meditation, over time it gets easier to do, it almost develops its own consciousness, and becomes more fluid and authentic the more that you stretch the muscle. For me personally, I have recorded over a thousand songs in my life, and practiced the art of freestyle for countless of hours more. It has always been something that I have done on the side, to keep myself healthy and inspired, and I have always done it ever since the first night that my friends encouraged me to try. Art is a legacy worth leaving, and when you look back years later you will be glad that you gave it a go. There is never any excuse to quit because even if you go weeks without doing anything, the moment that inspiration hits and you let it flow into something other than your own mind, you become free.
“How Sensitive Is My Mind”
I have been without caffeine of any kind for almost two months now, and was free from it for about two months before the last time that I had any. This is coming from someone who was a fully-dependent morning coffee drinker by the age of 16. This is coming from someone who spent $600 in four months on soda and energy drinks alone last year. I noticed that I had been surrendering a portion of my conscious thoughts to that next cup of coffee every single day. No matter how interested I was in someone or something, the thought of when and where I was going to drink my next cup was always at the forefront of my mind. The nature of it now, when I had two sodas two months ago, because I have been such a heavy user by this point in life, is that the temporarily energizing effects are totally overridden. They are overridden by anxiety, lethargy, and an immediately overwhelming sense of “when am I going to get more?” I only address this point because of all of the chemicals that I have ever taken in my entire life, pharmaceutical or otherwise, caffeine has hands-down been the hardest chain to break.
When we are years into a habit of eating McDonalds, or chain-smoking cigarettes, or drinking coffee every day, or smoking marijuana daily, we start to completely lose the concept of how much these massive influxes of chemicals are absolutely clouding our brain. I know people who try to go cold turkey on nicotine and go from a pack or more a day to instantly zero, and before the week is over they are back to their original intake, if not slightly more. It is because no longer has it become for survival or “getting through our day”, it has become a ritual and a way to pass the time when we surrender to that comfortable spike of something foreign to our body. Now, I am in no way a health nut, I do not eat organic, mainly because I can’t afford it and I’ve read online that most of it is a scam, and I only go to the gym about two times a month, I was just blessed genetically with a high metabolism otherwise by now it would be a problem. Also, I underwent a series of revolutionized brain imaging scans which illustrated that my mind has an abnormally high blood flow and a significantly higher oxidation level, so I’m sure that along with my minimalist diet has lead to my desirable physique.
Health is like Maslow’s Hierarchy Of Needs, yes of course the physical is the most important but the beauty of even physical health is that mental strength is the key to embracing new habits, and ultimately that gym membership as a New Year’s resolution that you use for maybe a month or two is not going to be your ticket to a healthier life, understanding the things you do on a daily basis that threaten or compromise your overall health is. I focus very much on the topic of caffeine because my dad, who is an everyday lawyer of the perfectly normal coffee drinking business class, has been completely without caffeine for almost twenty years. He really got tricked into the detox unconsciously by my grandmother who brought decaf on a trip to the Eastern Shore one year when I was a child and forgot to mention it to anybody. Within days of refilling his mug, the headaches settled in. Once he discovered what had happened, the pain of his withdrawal from his former friend was enough to encourage him to cut the chains. This got me thinking. Since then, I have noticed that caffeine is the absolute best drug to legally mass-produce and sell on every corner because it creates just enough of an edge and sense of urgency and fear in its users that it is perfect for encouraging adults to get through that shift, get through that homework, get through that stack of papers and be done with the day. Only part that we rarely emphasize, is that when you wake up you have to do it all over again.
The previous chapter focused on creativity, and since that is such an important gateway to joy and freedom, I would at least like to have taken the time to plant the seed of doubt in your current routines. One of the reasons that I bring this up is because I had the opportunity, on that same day two months ago that I had two sodas, to be commiserating with someone about our confusing caffeine hangovers when this person I was talking to was on his 5th tall Red Bull of the day. I don’t mean the cute little cans, I mean the biggest ones they sell on the shelves. Now, if you have a cup of coffee a day I’m sure you are dismissing this all, as you may, because you are probably 20 years or more into that routine. As you wish, I just have noticed deeper sleep, an almost total death of all anxiety, and a newfound openness of mind that allows me to be more inspired to be alive on a daily basis since sacrificing one small pleasure from my day, and I found it absolutely worth noting.
The Saturation Of The Media
“Quirky Quickness Over Quality And Quantity”
The unfortunate nature of the rapidly condensing “news” is that people’s attention span is now limited to blurbs and quick videos rather than articles and books. The same is true in music, quick gimmicks with trendy loops have almost completely obliterated any meaning from all music aside from the eternal topics of sex and spending money. The reality is starting to form a sort of socioeconomic classism which separates the politicians, the lawyers, and the wealthy and/or famous from the everyday person by leagues that can never be hurdled. The craziest part is that everyone seems to be completely okay with it, the obliteration of their option to choose. I don’t mean choice as in what smartphone to get or what to order on Amazon or what to get for dinner, I mean choice as in how the world is run. Ultimately, it has always been this way, the only innovation being the illusion of influence, now defined as the type of social media or internet presence that someone has, not defined by their ideologies or differentiations. The reality is that conformity has completely become the standard in society, talking about things politically correctly, creating the illusion of wholesome togetherness with online photo albums, and of course, buying all of the products that you see those around you buying as quickly as you can as if being in a total rush to fall into the very back of the line.
The reality is that the clothes aren’t different, the tattoos aren’t different, the drugs aren’t different, the entertainment isn’t different, and the lack of emotional connection is the only thing seeming to grow. Most modern fashion that becomes trending is ultimately something copied and pasted from thirty years ago and rebranded for an inflated price.
IT’S ALL SO FUCKING DUMB!
Richard “Henry” Griffin
4023 Stigall Drive
Midlothian, VA 23112
November 27, 2018
Dollar Tree – Cover Letter
Dear Dollar Tree,
I am a 21 year-old, highly motivated musician with dreams of being in the limelight, however, that does not pay the bills. With my family’s continued support I have been blessed thus far, although my father tells me it is time to learn about hard work, perseverance, and the American dream.
What better starting point than Dollar Tree? The advertisements are creative, the prices are competitive, and the job appears meaningful. I would like the opportunity to work for your corporation so that I can become an independent young adult.
I have taken AP Calculus classes in High School, so I am very good at math and crunching numbers. I was raised in a polite, southern family so my people skills are impeccable. I have grown a beard, which I am willing to shave if that is a job requirement. I am neat, cleanly, and a great team player. I think that I can be an asset to this store, and I hope that you consider my application for the job.
Richard “Henry” Griffin
The above cover letter is really trippy considering as of November, 2021 I have been a Dollar Tree employee at the Glenside and Staples Mill location in Richmond, Virginia.
“One Thing I Know”
By Richard Griffin
One thing I know, gold teeth don’t make a gold tongue.
I sold my soul so I could climb to heaven on gold rungs.
I don’t know a lot of things, but I know I know one.
It’s an uphill battle if I crack another cold one.
I used to think that ecstasy was what people expect of me.
I used to have the recipe, smoking weed to a melody.
Now I find myself, catching my breath with no lungs.
Numbers don’t make me a g cause everybody sold one.
I used to pray and wait for fans till the day that I stole one.
Now I know to show the globe, really I have to show one.
The lectures that I used to hear bore me to tears.
Maybe I’m the only one that knows you’re more than your fears.
Little did I know that the hopeless one that is in the crowd
was the only one who noticed what I said cause I spoke it loud.
One thing I know, if I gotta go it’s my own gun.
And also what I know is that closing a show is no fun.
I can make my kid walk, I cannot make a clone run.
Maybe when I slept through the class I wasn’t so dumb.
The shoes on my feet used to be my definition.
Now I speak of spirit and seek another premonition.
I never thought free, also never thought I was in a prison.
I never saw sleep, but all my thoughts are just indecision.
Now I live, only the dead are so done.
And now my favorite secrets I keep, I share with no one.
I like to think I’m sad, like a globe with no sun.
Now I hear the notes, like a beat that has no drum.
I talk about my path but I have never even seen a step.
I like to feel more than human, like moments when Jesus wept.
One thing I know, a phone won’t make me more receptive.
One thing I know, there’s always more perspectives.
One thing I know, I always have more questions.
One thing I know, my worst fears are my best guesses.
All that I have seen has shown me that life is hard.
One thing I know, problems won’t be solved if I fly to Mars.
One thing I know, mice will fight over old crumbs.
One thing I know, I am warm when the cold comes.
One thing we know, is nothing cause we aren’t the same.
One thing I know, I won’t melt in the hardest rain.
One thing we know, is nothing cause we aren’t to blame.
One thing I know, is the hardest part of art is shame.
One thing I’ve seen, is the back of my eyelids.
I’ve only ever done things, I’ve never really tried it.
One thing I’ve heard, is silence and it’s still my favorite.
Of all the songs I’ve ever made I’ve never really played it.
I’ve never seen a watch that made me cease to exist.
I’ve heard a lot of talk, but nothing really speaks like this.
I’ve bought a lot of land, we just call it a tax.
I’ve only ever walked forward, and I’ve only ever fallen back.
One thing I know, is I’ve never even seen a pause.
One thing I know, is another word for teeth is claws.
One thing I know, is I work as hard as I’ve ever worked.
One thing I know, is I hurt as much as I’ve ever hurt.
One place I’ve been, is nowhere cause I’ve never seen a place.
One thing I know, is I’ve also never seen a race.
One thing I want, is nothing cause I’ve never seen a want.
One thing I know, is I’ve never seen a start or seen a stop.
One thing I’ve felt, is nothing cause I’ve never seen a felt.
One thing I know, is I’ve never known how to tell.
I don’t understand, I’ve never stood under where I am.
I don’t make pickles, so I wouldn’t say that I can.
One thing I know, is light and dark don’t have a feel.
One thing I know, is that I do not know what is real.
One thing I’ve smelled, is nothing cause I’ve never seen a smell.
I can sit and I can stand, but I have never seen a fell.
I can run and I can dance, but I have never seen a move.
I am I and you are you, but I have never seen a lose.
I am blind and I have visions, some of which we can agree,
have some color, but a color is something that I’ve never seen.
One thing I know, is I’ve never seen a single left.
I can throw and I can grab, but I’ve never seen a catch.
One thing I know, is that no is just the meanest word.
I can move my middle finger but I’ve never seen a bird.
One thing I know, is that no one thinks like me.
One thing I know, is that I have never seen a three.
One thing I know, is that I have been a million places.
I look at the ground a lot, so I have never seen your faces.
One thing I know, is that this is just a vivid dream.
One thing we know, is nothing cause we aren’t a team.
One thing I know, and have always known, is that my favorite person will always be, me.
Vowels contain time and consonants are punctuation. If you think that existence is for enjoyment, you are seriously mistaken. The benefit of existing in time encapsulated form is that it allows for repeated exploration in breakthroughs of understanding existence. Only through understandings can enjoyment be attained. Enjoyment of an experience is directly proportional to the extent and depth of understandings. The extent of a risk indicates the level of a potential breakthrough. When I took a double dose of LSD for the first experience in my life, I jumped off a balcony because the urgency and depth of the potential breakthrough was too pressingly apparent to choose any other option. The alignment of my life’s boundaries, physical, mental, and circumstantial had ensured my survival with a seeded understanding of the furthermost extents of my mortal, and borderline immortal capabilities.
Resurgence of numerology, symbology, and circumstantial boundaries such as repeated words and phrases are indicators of greater existential understandings. A potential understanding is another term for a missed opportunity, allowing fear factors and other self indulgent influences such as emotionally expectant family and acquaintances to discourage potential breakthroughs. When a breakthrough occurs, the cooldown time for the status quo to attempt a systematic reset of conditioned comfort increases dramatically. This may take the form of time on the planet where you may not have to find employment or rely on just yourself for sustainability. Other breakthroughs push physical and mental stability and capability to an almost hunter gatherer state of absolutely paralyzed survival mechanisms.
The Story Of My Bisexuality
So, the story of my bisexuality started one Christmas Eve in my hometown of Winchester Virginia on the adorable, freezing cold walking mall with a very lonely, sweet girl who stuck her finger up my ass. I wasn’t sure how she knew, maybe she had tried it a thousand times before on less emotional, curious guys or maybe it was one of those spur of the moment impulses that we never look back from. I found myself in the mouth of a Jewish gay man when I went to a fruity rehab for the fifth time and my shame melted into confidence.
That same night, as my roommate snored, my female lover and I took it from a blanket under the stars, to the graveled parking lot behind a white van, to that same bed where I awoke, in between puttering snores, to this angelic blonde dominating my universe. Cigarettes and rap music being our common denominators, the three of us danced together, cut hair and pierced ears together, swam together, and I can’t remember a moment when we didn’t smile together.
The Same Dream
It’s the same dream every night, and every time I wake I have the same feeling of regret: I wish that I didn’t jump.
In one lifetime the number of voices you hear is innumerable, even from the moment of birth. A mother’s voice is one of the first, certainly, her screams. The nurses and the doctors’ voices, those are probably calmer if we care to trace it that far. After years of life, the pitches, the echoes, the depth and the shrieks pile on endlessly.
It’s the same dream every night, and every night I am on the edge of a grey cliff over a black abyss with nothing else in existence. The same dream where all I can hear is the droning blend of every person’s voice that I have ever heard, somehow all simultaneously, yet individually separate, and they are all begging me to jump. Every night I do.
I Make Big Circles.
By Richard Henry Griffin
I make big circles. I make full circles. I make it my goal to go as far out into the corners of the world to come back to where it all started for me. On a quiet street in Winchester, Virginia, it started for me. It started for me with imagination, dreaming of inventions throughout all hours of the night, illustrating my creations with scenarios of stuffed animals and fortresses of scrambled Legos. For me, it never stopped. You do you, my mom always tells me. Well, mom, it’s a process, and what a process it has been.
As I recount my life, my history, my process, I see patterns of numerology. I was born in Winchester, Virginia to Kate Obenshain Keeler and Phillip Stone Griffin II in a modern day medical center. I was delivered by a nurse named Mary Rudolph Hill, who’s son I grew up with and she ended up marrying my pastor. I was born on March 9, 1997, which some will recall was the exact day on which the great aurotor and hip-hop star Christopher Wallace was murdered suddenly in the streets of Los Angeles, California. To some, who still believe in coincidence, this seems trivial, perhaps meaningless to mention, yet I always tell people without a shadow of doubt in my voice that I am the reincarnation of Biggie Smalls, the Notorious B.I.G.
I was blessed by circumstance, born white, born to a family with legacies of business and politics. I was blessed with toys, pets, food in abundance and the sky was the limit for a child like me. Once in a blue moon, and sometimes less often than that, circumstances don’t always lead to the outcomes that seem so obvious, so predestined. As a child my fantasy wasn’t to be an astronaut or a firefighter, my fantasy was to pack my bag and run away. Why has never been a question that I ask myself, I get a feeling, I trust myself, and I allow my spirit to become gone with the wind.
I played every sport in the suburban world, soccer, basketball, baseball, all of the ones except for hockey that might seriously put some dents in my precious young body. I ran, oh I ran like the wind from the age of seven, even when the wind had snow in it and I begged my father not to take me to another road race. It gave me an attitude of brutality and a feeling of freedom, letting my feet carry my body until my lungs would bleed into my saliva. Runners high, I have been an abuser, a junkie for Asics shoes and Nike socks since the day my feet touched the pavement. My parents never could calm me down, I bounced in a chair, ran into their bed, jumped for joy when my four year old eyes saw 9/11 on the television, I was a product of the golden era of humanity, when the internet was breaking free and you didn’t have to wait in line at TSA to board a flight. Circumstance can be misleading, and variables are endless.
I traveled to Vegas before I was 12, I left the country before I was 14. I traveled to Africa, Costa Rica, and Europe my grandparents had learned that they would rather show me the world in the best way because I might not ever get that chance again. I stayed in 5-star resorts, learned to ski down mountaintops, learned to play piano, learned to throw a curveball, the movies I saw before I was 10 multiply the movies I have seen as an adult, I read hundreds of books, and my mom read every fantasy worth buying to me in english accents for Narnia. Then, as they do every seventeen years, Cicadas swarmed the streets of our small town and I would cut them apart with pocket knives, the invaders screaming for justice in my small fingers. I was brutal, my orthodontic smile and Bieber haircut masked that in the most beautiful way.
Girls, oh when it came to girls it was a taboo topic in my christian household, never tell mom about a crush even though mom says I can talk to her about anything. Divorce made that really easy for me because my father was my vault for gossip and my mother was the cover story of my innocence. Three nights a week it was time to pack our bags and walk to dad’s house, only three doors down from mom’s house, the bigger one. Three nights a week I had a vacation from the time I was nine to the time I was sixteen and my parents saw fit to send me to correctional programs. Three nights a week I was free at last. It never felt like running away, not the way I dreamed of it. I still had walls, I still had rules, and I still had homework.
No matter how many cell phones I earned with straight A’s, I still felt trapped. Trapped within a society that I had the most sheltered view of, trapped was trapped to me and I only ever thought about breaking free. Something felt empty about the Christmas cards. Something felt empty about the air conditioned summers selling lemonade on the corner and the bundled up winters of snow and hot chocolate by an open fire when it got too cold outside. Something felt empty about pool parties at my friends houses. Something felt empty but maybe it never felt empty maybe it only ever felt strange. I had so much, this tiny speck in the world of a private school microscope and Steve Miller Band CDs. Was there more was a question that I could no longer hide from, mom and dad must have wanted more.
I learned everything right. I learned that no matter how bad the food is at someone’s house, you still put your napkin in your lap, eat the food, smile, and ask to be excused. I learned that you always smile in family photos. I learned that you only agree with Republicans because that’s all your family has ever believed. I learned that there is a Hell, and if I’m not on my best behavior at all times and diligent with my prayer life then Jesus will not let me into Heaven. Christmas was a team effort, I always begged my parents to let me do the lights outside and they always bought more boxes of lights so I could do it. Easter was epic, the egg hunts that my parents created seemed to last an eternity. Halloween was safe and festive, I always got the costume that I wanted, even if I got some help creating it myself, Robin Hood to Buzz Lightyear. Birthdays meant I mattered, and my mom always made the home cooked cake of my choosing, although it tasted so sweet that I never could finish a full piece.
I make big circles. I make full circles. I was always taught that it is better to be well rounded than to be the best at one thing. I played the Tuba when public school began, I played computer games like Backyard Baseball and had to set a timer next to the computer that would keep me loyal to my homework and faithful to my sports. I have no room to complain about my life, my childhood room had bunk beds from the store and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. My walls had posters and photos and Scotch tape, my house was a place to run barefoot and the only danger in my world was a splinter, and I definitely made it a really big deal when the tweezers came out.
Fax to 5 N Kent St. Winchester, Virginia 22601
Richard Henry Griffin
Dear Honorable Judge Mary Daniel of the Winchester General District Court,
I am currently 95 days clean and sober from all mind or mood altering chemicals including alcohol and I recently completed a 28-Day Intensive Rehabilitation Program with the McShin Foundation located at 2300 Dumbarton Rd. Henrico, Virginia 23228. I transitioned directly to one of the McShin Recovery Houses where I currently live and have been paying my own rent. I work 6 days a week 8 hours a day at Burger King on West Broad Street in Richmond, Virginia. I am writing this letter to request court-appointed counsel for the alleged incident for which an arraignment is taking place on Monday June 28th, 2021. I have neither the finances nor the work schedule to be present in person and I hope that this letter will suffice in place of my appearance as I understand the matter in question has already been continued once. Thank you for understanding.
Electronically signed: Richard Henry Griffin d.o.b. 03/09/1997
Thursday June 24th, 2021 at 11:40 a.m.
AN EMPIRICAL STATE OF MIND
Dedicated to William Shakespeare
“The world is but a stage upon which we all act”
The three most powerful Emperors of the planet Earth are as follows.
Jesus Christ. Mohammad. Siddhartha Guatama.
To this day their impact on the structure of civilization remains unparalleled.
None of them had a Facebook page.
None of them recorded a single song.
To this day their legacy lives on and their spirits are beloved in the hearts of many.
They lived life in a state of harmony and in pursuit of the actualization of brotherhood between men.
Their example is what has inspired temples, what has authored literature, what has forged statues and what has illustrated murals.
Each of us has the same opportunity in every waking second of every moment to set a legacy of behaviour worth following.
Our application may not be the same, our career paths drastically different and our styles of love so diverse.
Domination is inherently achieved not through application of force, but through allowing life to run the show.
According to Gary Temple Bodley from his book A Perception of Reality on page 21, “There is no need to dwell on unpleasant thoughts.
The higher your vibration, the more access you have to thoughts at this higher vibration.”
In every moment we can choose to think as if Jesus, as if Mohommad, as if Siddhartha, a thought is a choice.
Thoughts determine beliefs. Beliefs determine actions. Actions determine habits. Habits determine character.
This is the knowledge that unlocks a life of ease, a life of joy, a life of pleasure.
Emotion is a precursor to physical manifestation. Choose the thought, choose the feeling.
Choose the feeling, choose the choice. Choices determine patterns and patterns determine integrity.
The Gamble of the Ten Bones
Once upon a time Tyler Grey was walking back from school and he tripped on a sidewalk slab. Tsssh! The hissing sound of his hands catching the concrete before his face hit gave him a sigh of relief. Once on his feet again he looked down to see two hand prints: his. The desire to vandalize the slab was not of his own making, it spontaneously appeared in his mind and he acted. Grabbing a knife from his bag he carved “FTP” in capital letters.
“It’s a great day to be a vandal,” said Tyler.
Why I missed the 12/15/21 Wednesday 6pm meeting
by Richard Henry “Lil’ Peep” Griffin
Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away the sun rose upon a wintry Wednesday in suburban Henrico, Virginia, just outside of the James River City known as Richmond, circa two thousand and twenty one years after the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and Patrick Henry was nowhere to be found.
At approximately 8:45am that same morning in the small town of Winchester, Virginia at the location of the courthouse at 5 North Kent Street there was an appointment scheduled for a strapping young Jedi by the name of Richard “Patrick” Henry Griffin, also known as Lil’ Peep, to appear for the Felony charge of Unauthorized Use of a Motor Vehicle. The minivan containing this celebrity was dropping the children of Andrea Wright off at elementary school, for Finlay, and Daniel Morgan Middle School, for Halston, which just so happened to be Lil’ Peep’s alma mater, assuming that term applies to middle school graduates. After these successful deliveries, Andrea drove Henry to a coffee shop known as Lenny Sweet’s “Steamy’s Cafe”. Richard is Mormon, so of course fore went the coffee, but did indulge in the home made from scratch hot menu item of an everything bagel with bacon, scrambled egg, and cheese.
Along with the incredibly electric taste of the food, the conversation with entrepreneur and bagel cook Lenny Sweet, Mister Griffin’s former employer, realmed from Grateful Dead bandanas to electric bicycles, and Andrea Wright helped herself to a drip coffee from the brand La Colombe, which is a carefully sourced and curated premium coffee bean company dispensed by Mister Sweet. Visit https://www.thecoffeemademedoit.com to learn more about this unique establishment located on the downtown block of Piccadilly Street in Winchester, Virginia, and be sure to stop in for a bite or a boost of caffeine in the early mornings of a weekday on the town.
Now headed in the silver blue Honda Odyssey minivan to the court house, Andrea and Peep gain some last minute insight from one another as this pressing event looms in the near future of this twenty four year old show businessman, budding politician, and musical entertainer. Beep! Beep! Beep! The line to the metal detector is reminiscent of the airport security T.S.A. yet is instead overseen by a highly paid law enforcement officer making sure belts and cell phones are removed and that no weapons enter the premises. Check the screen. Court room 2D. Elevator button. Ding! Presses button for floor two. Ding! Andrea steps out followed by Griffin and they wait patiently by the bench next to the court room doors for Richard’s attorney, public defender Charles “Charlie” Billman. This well built, young fifties man in a sharp suit approaches, very confident, and begins to discuss the options in this situation and how to proceed with the prosecution and judge.
After many back and forth, Lil’ Peep transitioned from seeking revenge with the Commonwealth in the form of a jury trial to electing to extend the date six months provided continued good behavior in which situation the charges would be completely dismissed. This prevents the aspiring United States President from becoming a convicted felon, and enables him to continue treatment in the McShin Foundation, located at 3200 Dumbarton Road in Henrico, Virginia, 23228. Following the court appearance, Andrea Wright drove Richard Henry Griffin up the street to 102 South Kent Street which is the location of the business “Griffin Law”, Henry’s father Phillip Stone Griffin the Second’s law firm which has been in operation for twenty nine years in a row. The timing was impeccable. Anna Thomson, one of the paralegal and clerks was walking the dog Louie who has on a bow tie collar and was very excited to see Lil’ Peep. Anna let Henry in to the office, and it just so happened his father Phil was in the back office working on an essay!
After hugging and chatting briefly, Henry elected to grab some scratch paper and a pen to doodle at the front desk, since no appointments were scheduled for the work day. Michelle Cooper, another paralegal and clerk of Phil’s, arrived and said hello to Peep. After doodling to his creativity’s extent, Richard asked Anna to enter the password for the desktop computer so that he could further kill time by logging on to https://www.armorgames.com and playing a tower defense game as he waited for his father to be ready for lunch.
Lunch time! Jersey Mike’s or Subway? There is a Subway right near the Dollar Tree where Henry works on Staples Mill and Glenside in Richmond, Virginia so he chose to go with the Jersey Mike’s located on Pleasant Valley in Winchester, Virginia. “Mini Philly Cheese Steak please.” “Sorry, we can’t do a mini size for that sub.” “Okay, can I please have a regular?” “Sure.”
The car conversations between Phil and Henry began with intensity, as Richard is not speaking much with his mother, who is divorced and remarried, and he shares his gripes with his father because, certainly, Phil can empathize with what it was like to live with Kate. After Phil put his bags in the trunk, they embarked on their journey down to Richmond, Virginia. Phil had lawyer appointments to take care of and Henry had to return to his half way house located at 4815 Belle Glade Drive, Richmond, Virginia 23230 because he is only allowed to take one over night at a time. Henry arrived at home shortly after four o’clock in the afternoon in plenty of time for his six o’clock, mandatory meeting at the McShin Foundation’s headquarters.
Normally, Lil’ Peep and Dean Perez would ride together, but Dean’s license is on hold and so Henry and Dean both asked Jordan, their house mate, at five o’clock if he could drive them to the meeting at six. Jordan agreed. When six o’clock was approaching, Jordan was awoken by Dean and refused to drive to the church, so Dean and Henry were unable to make it at six o’clock.
No content in this document may be reproduced or used without explicit written permission from the author, Richard Patrick Henry Griffin, also known as Lil’ Peep.
I Ate In The Room Because This House Is A Prison
By Richard Henry Griffin
Once upon a time in a galaxy not so far away there was a house on Dreary Lane. The lack of professionalism in the leadership is to an extent which I cannot explain. If someone gets paid a hundred and thirty five dollars a week to live somewhere, that comes out to a total of over six thousand dollars a year. I work at Dollar Tree and make ten dollars an hour and due to my Schizoaffective Diagnosis, I can only work between fifteen and thirty nine hours a week. This person being paid six thousand dollars a year to simply live in a house should have some responsibilities which merit the payment of what I basically make at my minimum wage job. You would think.
I am so grateful for this opportunity to write this thousand word essay because I get to break off a piece of my mind. And don’t worry, I’ll keep these opinions to myself, staying to my own business is a skill I possess, unlike most of these plants I live with in this mildewing, overcrowded flophouse in an industry where the standards are so low that bedbugs and cockroaches are a regular occurrence. First I would like to shout out to our Fuhrer, the famed John Shinholser, without whose hush money in the tens of thousands to exploited addicts and their families would have closed down this business and many like it which operates in the slim, murky gray area in between mental health services and criminal justice programs.
Of course we can’t go down this list of wonderful, kind-hearted individuals saving lives and healing families without the famous client-impregnator himself, Jesse Wysocki, without whose prolific sperm count would leave several “baby-mommas” in need. Then we can be followed up with John’s near clone, if it weren’t for homosexual approaches to many former clients, inviting them to a quiet Bed and Breakfast getaways, Christopher Ronquest. I’ll bet the Richmond Times-Dispatch would just feast on this essay, don’t you think so, Cricket? I would leave out the new face of the online effort, the “Get In The Herd” podcast, if he hadn’t offered me sex at John Shinholser’s 2018 Christmas party. Popping out his two front teeth was to make his offer of oral more enticing, but we’re addicts, right, this all should be run of the mill.
The main reason this organization is still in operation in th volume which it is it one person, the C.E.O., Honesty Liller. Her concern with gaining and maintaining private donors has shown to be her primary concern. Not the quality of the housing, not the level of care, but who donates money and how frequently they can donate again. There is a memorial garden in front of the Hatcher Memorial Church on Dumbarton Road where McShin rents office space, and I asked how much it would cost to put a name on a brick, memorializing an overdose. I was told, “$100, each.” I gave the financial officer Melanie a $200 money order, one hundred for the name of Mac Miller, a musician who had overdosed, and one hundred for Lil’ Peep, a musician who had overdosed. They later came to me and said, “Sorry, we need a family member’s approval, why don’t we just credit it to your rent.”
As I have learned in this business, not just this organization, but most “recovery” organizations, your only option is to say, “Yes.” Here, I am two things: a $300 non-refundable processing fee, and a $135/week rent check. If you kiss up to Jesse, he has the ability to make you a house assistant leader, paying part of your rent, or a house leader, paying all of your rent. The business model at The McShin Foundation seems to be this: The more people we intake, the more $300 non-refundable processing fees we get, so the more we kick out, the more $300 non-refundable processing fees we get. My space in this house which I have been paying for since May 2021 is a corner of a room which is about 6 ft by 8 ft. I have two roommates. Most rooms have a total of four men in them. Most people are in this organization by the skin of their teeth, on probation with sometimes many charges and violations. This desperation is exploited in this industry, and in this business. Any time some employer needs cheap labor, often physical labor, they come asking for workers and offering slim pay such as ten dollars an hour. However, most clients in this business are handed cigarettes, vaporizers, coffee, and energy drinks from the moment they arrive, to keep them comfortable with low pay, borderline incarceration living conditions, and rough, physical labor. The problem compounds if they have no identification, expired driver’s licenses, or can’t afford all of the D.M.V. fees and requirements to drive such as eyeglasses.
The following are the programs I have been to in my recovery journey, and this does not include hospitals: Second Nature Wilderness Therapy (Georgia), Wisdom Ranch School (Idaho), Rivendell Recovery Center x3 (Virginia), Phoenix House Arlington (Virginia), Legacy Outdoor Adventures (Utah), Red Mountain Sedona (Arizona), Rivendell Recovery Center (Virginia), The McShin Foundation (Virginia), True Recovery RVA (Virginia), Phoenix House Arlington (Virginia), Edgehill Recovery Retreat (Virginia), Lord Fairfax Halfway House (Virginia), and The McShin Foundation (Virginia). I say this to illustrate my scope of experiences and I just want to say I am so grateful for the 1st Amendment of the Constitution of The United States of America which grants me freedom of expression. I understand that being opinionated makes me an easy target, this has been the case each of the three times that I have attended McShin. The important thing is that just because my house leader does not care for me on a personal level should not be grounds for unfair treatment consistently on a daily basis. I have been at this particular house since May 2021, have failed no urine screens, and have not even bent or broken any major rules. I missed one 6pm Wednesday meeting (for which I wrote an essay illustrating that my ride sabotaged all 3 of us riding with him, and what do you know, he wasn’t even held responsible because he kisses up to our house leader) and this essay is the result of me eating sorbet in someone’s room while watching a movie. And if those living in the house cannot eat in any rooms, then neither should the house leader, even though he has his own room. Today, Saturday the 8th of January 2022, the day after I was assigned to write this essay for eating in a room, my house leader literally ate his weird lemongrass mixture in his room. Poor leadership, case in point.
How To Become A Billionaire
By Richard Henry Griffin
The method of becoming a billionaire takes three simple steps:
- Decide that you will run it up, create a product that can be sold one billion times
- Run it up until you have sold that item a billion times
- Step Three is: RUN IT UP AGAIN!
How do you convince someone to elect a certain politician? The three following steps:
- Here is why you should vote for them
- Here is why you shouldn’t change your mind
- And here is why it is very important that you do so!
Donald Trump, Elon Musk, and Jeff Bezos aren’t necessarily geniuses, they have just made a decision, that first decision on the list. Every moment of every day must revolve around that decision. Discipline and drive are products of decision making, and making this mature decision to sell one product one billion times can yield the most success the earth has ever seen.
The two most important commodities to a billionaire are time and repetition.
If a process works, repeat it. Repeat it for as much time as you can. Don’t stop. It is never enough.
The feeling of enough is the same feeling as quitting. For most people this is a disease. When that paycheck arrives every week or every two weeks, the individual quits. They go into spend mode. Once it is gone, they go into make mode, and they repeat this self defeating cycle.
To create a winning cycle, you must decide, deep in the core of your self and the heart of your mind, that you will always make.
November 28th 2021
I was baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints on November 28th, 2021.
Howard Richard Herndon Jr. was baptized on December 12th, 2021.
We are in the last days. Name another artist this prolific with mastery of so many pathways. Catch me when I blow up and the shrapnel hits the market. Domination is preceded by harvest. March with the authority of a recently freed slave. My ancestry is angelic and I can transcend this plague. How could you fight a jedi like myself? Mental exhibition with spiritual stealth. Gray is the way of those in the middle. The white light in my night light is the only thing civil. Give me jargon and style. Walk with me to Nine Mile. How the river roars into the ocean is a sentiment. I would be institutionalized without a nightly handful of sedatives. Prescription tribes and athletic meditation. Reeking of recently rolled up vegetation. Lecture as I ponder what to pray. This is the illusion of night and day.
I am so dope you might overdose, chill and catch the holy ghost, roll up let me holy smoke, baaaaby. Third Eye Gang till my ascension enjoy me while I’m briefly earthly.
Why are you looking for a new job?
More hours, more room for growth and advancement, financial incentive, better clientele, better work atmosphere, more positive work environment, enthusiasm for products, enthusiasm for brands.
Why do you want to work at Buckle?
I am a very driven, entrepreneurial individual. In my time I make music, have a side business selling electronics and making in home audio production studios, and I look at Buckle as an opportunity to work in an enthusiastic environment. Coupled with my outgoing nature and my knowledge of quality brands, I am highly motivated to become successful at Buckle and advance in the company. I am leveraging my current retail and cashier experience to launch a career in fashion, which I am highly passionate about. I follow Machine Gun Kelly closely, and saw him perform for a second time at the Richmond Raceway this past fall, and his fashion style is close to the type of gear that Buckle provides. I am very pro American and patriotic, so a lot of the brands Buckle carries support that American Spirit, promotes The American Dream, and I hope to become a part of the team.
What makes you a great candidate for this position?
I am naturally outgoing. It is easy for me to quickly pick up on someone’s energetic vibration and tempo and style, allowing me to let them feel in charge while guiding them to the closest products we carry which match the belief that the customer holds, the ideal they want to portray, and the image they want to display and be known for. Fashion is personal, it is intimate and deep and my attention to nuanced comments and subtle body language makes me uniquely qualified to introduce the client to the person they dream of becoming, because fashion is not just about our story and where we come from, fashion is futuristic and trends are critical. This process is delicate but I, as the salesman, bring the confident foundation for which the shopper can dream. I support them wholeheartedly and encourage them honestly in a direction that Buckle can satisfy. You will be thrilled to see me in action. (This is the part where Leonardo DiCaprio from “Wolf of Wall Street” says, “Sell me this pen.”)