Every achievement, every minute invested is a moment I am proud of you. I. The obscurity of this page lives a nomad in a million time zones. In every one of those time zones you have an achievement. In being alive, there is opportunity. In being alive there is chance. Every moment you break away from chains-either those you are born to, or those that the world has now given you- I am proud of you.

Every day I wake trying to break from my own chains. The struggle never ends, yet in every battle there is history, in history an art, in art-beauty. A struggle is life playing its best role-the sculptor of us. 

Just a note from a rational mind to the part of me and the (if any) you(s) that reads this. Shit, if Trump, a shitstain with a wig can be anything- talent, hard work, and perseverance can absolutely make one EVERYTHING.

Chase the fucking sky. Be relentless, don’t quit.

Nomad

Trump takes pisses and those golden rainbows become lucky charms to the polifuck of American society. Four more years of what hasn’t even started with a possible four added on the side. 

I swim in marbled paper patterns to diffuse society. Art is a vent and a refuge. Adhd an ever constant flight.

And the channel changes as the thoughts spill like ink in water. 

A drop. Two drops. Thoughts flickering like xmas lights. Blue,red, green, yellow, pink. 

And another color stays. I think of the polifuck of the adhd mind. Chemical concoction of an universe in a drop. I fall into webs of thoughts.

This page is as sporadic as my mind is. The last two weeks have been absolutely crazy-more than I could have imagined. This url begins with the word nomad, precisely because that is what I have always felt like. An inconsistent book made of billions of pages that do not make sense and belong nowhere. I never made sense. My mind, a kaleidoscope larger than the internet itself all in one brain. And then one day two weeks ago, there I was, sitting in an office waiting for “someone to talk to” and just like that, a conversation and 20 billion mind races later- a sudden stop and an emergency break. Nerveous smile on and the words making their way through the air-ADHD. 

Enter symbiotic mental clarity with a side of mental mindfuck. A blooming garden had all its flowers turned opposite the sun to see a new world they had never known. Deep down I always knew- yet the id didn’t wanna know. I accepted the words with ease yet I am a landscape forever changed.

I accept it. My mind is every image ever made, every song ever composed, every book ever written, every hue that could ever be conceived in their raw-est state. 
It hurts that I have missed so much because of all the gardens that I must tend to, yet to see the larger garden of conceptualizing life in more than just the present is a gift I must learn to make sense of. 

I love the ways my toes move when I think and feel. I love that I laugh inside myself randomly as people say things that make my mind think of the weirdest hilarious shit 20 orbits out of theirs. I love that I can write and string someone’s heart and capture their soul with just the skeletons of letters, that I mold their muscles, forming them into a hand and presenting it to you, here- a faceless crowd in an infinite void where I let off my vulnerability turned strenght.

I accept me. 

After what seemed like a live episode of Game of Thrones the world has finally resumed their consistent hate and apathy. On one side orange is the new black and collective bitterness towards American politics is on the rise. Hillary won the popular vote after all. Trump won the electorate. Bernie would’ve beat Trump but that’s a whole other episode of GOT. 

GOT ORANGE TODAY?

Yes… Quite so for the next four years. FOUR YEARS.
Nomad

It seems that America has decided to follow in the footsteps of Rome before its demise. Rome, an empire burnt orange with Nero. America burnt with an orange toupee that will take everything in its path- Trump. Midnight strikes and the precious clock of doom strikes closer to midnight. The clock waits patiently at 209 vs. 238 it even translates to 50 vs. 48 million. 

50 million folks who forgot about America’s struggle with division. Here we are divided again. This time despot vs. despot but the bigger evil is looking like he’s booking his flight- four years of caricatures and flames.
Orange hair for days.

We’re fucked 

Days are long and time isn’t helping. We have all been there when time seems to speed up and we slow down. Inertia seeps in before we think of the consequences. Missing sometimes doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. In some cases it drags it into isolation. If you miss someone do not fail to tell them. The less you say and the more that missing grows, the more you risk. It isn’t risk in terms of losing- it’s losing in terms of becoming desensitized to that missing. Desensitized to the essence of a person.

Telk someone you miss you miss them. Set the spark of connecting aflame.

Nomad

What is it about phones that now create a stimuli deficit? We always expect an answer. Every minute a lit screen and the parasympathetic nerveous system lights up. Crack to the masses. I’m an addict I admit it. I have to write as if I have a cut that ceases to scab. Words just pour out of me in an unlimited supply. I have recurring case of not giving a fuck. I bleed I write. Words must be recorded the moment they occur and right now I need to record you.

It’s been a while since I wrote here. Not that I chose to ignore- perhaps prose chose to ignore me. Poems and sculptures pour from my fingers at a pace I can’t slow down. Yet the mind is in rewind. What am I digging for? If not for the dissolution of all the smoke and mirrors in front of me.

Recap of the last year:

The election became our claim to fame: finally, a reality show that is broadcast in every single nation. People are glued to their screens watching our slow and excruciating train wreck. Good ol’ Hill dressed a la Kim Jung Il vs. Trump, his hair, and that pout which looks like a hemorroidal asshole.

Brexit happened. Uninformed voters choose pseudo sovereignty from a fellow macaque Trump lookalike. Wake up next morning achingly trying to  get a prescription of PLAN B. Sorry folks- you don’t get 72 hours on that one.

More rappers rapped about bitches and money while guns and police violence claimed more lives. Silence is akin to compliance. Jim Crow flies over us like a hovering darkness that never left. Slavery just took a new identity- slaves to money and slaves to the system.

Emails saying “I made 7000 dollars a month sitting from home” scams keep popping up in my inbox. Global warming alone probably made people more money by the second while they sat at home too. Rich shareholders must absolutely love the catastrophy brewing. More sales, more, more, more. The dick named Profit ever stiffer at the chance of fucking the consumer. 

Funny how profit sounds like prophet. I guess we are in the second coming. The false prophet came (literally).
Go check my poetry and artwork. I’m a prism, see another prism of my light.

I have internal quarry with the word trust. How often do we perpetrate the myth that we are to trust when we are all born liars.

What a connundrum- a mind that seems in place that is so far away it doesn’t trust itself. A word implied to merit trust-trust itself means an absolute nothing as words are but letters all poised together to take some space, to make a word, to renigue the fact that words are but human creations to portray ideals short of what might actually be.

That is the ache of every writer- you trust the words you write, yet they could never truly write you. They can never write what you mean, what you wholeheartedly intend to say.

I’ve a bittersweet love affair woth words. They haunt me with how passionately they touch me and at the same I scorn them for the bitterness they leave after they’ve left me.

Call me a cynic- I might just be one.

Loss. We are told to invest time in those we love yet all I see are people working just to justify their love. We work for days on end, to come home-say goodnight, say good morning in a rush of 10 minutes. Leave for hours, just to pay a rent, get some food, spend on bullshit. Spend on time-invest the most you could instead of the most you could. Values are different, time is priceless. Time is non-refundable. Just like debit-it runs out. I am sore just thinking of how much I spend daily-how much I’ll never get back. Spend wisely.

My pockets are empty yet I will bank on time- when I run out I want nothing but debits that were worth it.

Perhaps it’s time you do the same.

Nomad.