A Lil Loopy

I’m getting scared yo. Recently celebrated a birthday and I’m working a 9-5 that has 0 impact on my life. Wake up. Go to work. Come home. Sleep. Repeat. This loop can go weeks without changing or I can break some of it up with hanging out with friends, going to concerts, going on dates, getting hammered on the weekends. No matter what though, once Monday hits, it all starts again. Is this my life? Is this a majority of every adult life? Sprinkle in some kids and variances in money and that routine gets everyone. Some people love it, some people would rather not just be a cog in their own machine.


Haven’t done a poem in awhile:

He shoots the ball

Around the hoop

In a loop

Until it falls.

He ties his strings

of his boots

In a loop

Until it stings.

She flips her hair

while she snoops

in a loop

Until he stares.


via Daily Prompt: Loop


This story is 67% true.

Man, this is so dumb. We got to this parade and I’m kinda in a bad mood. It’s been pouring for like 45 minutes but thankfully it is starting to clear up. I need to start drinking now. Someone in our group tells us there is a beer distributor around the corner. Alright bet. Three OE pounders and this cranberry vodka a friend gave me should be enough to get me to a happy place. The parade begins. Music, marching, mammaries are everywhere. Two beers down, it’s a great time.

Oh shit, I have to pee.

We are locked in the middle of this parade and the slow moving dance troupe in front of us is starting their routine again. I gotta get outta here. The sides are lined with people taking pictures of the extravagance around us and the end is not in sight. I’m a big boy and I’ve had to pee before but the stakes are much higher when options are limited. WHERE IS THE CLOSEST BATHROOM!? We keep marching but I’m surveying the land. Much to the dismay of my bladder, there isn’t one in sight. Ten minutes pass and we’ve reached critical mass. You know what, step 1: get out the parade. I’ll be able to walk and investigate faster. Also, if I hear Beyonce’s “Freakum Dress” one more time, somebody is getting a golden shower.

“Excuse me, excuse me,” as I break the barrier in a rush. The crowd is only like five rows deep but some onlookers caught a rough shoulder on my way out. Freedom. “Hey,” I scare a stranger, “Where is the closest bathroom??” The fear they felt subsides enough for them to point to a giant brown building about a 100 yards down the boardwalk. “Thanks!” I yell before run/walking through the masses. I see a line. Must be the women’s room.  I walk around the other side of the building and waltz into a stall. Now the rules suggest that you shouldn’t stand next to another man at a urinal unless space requires it. Bump that. Thank God, I’m wearing swim trunks. I peel the important parts out of the netting and let fly.

I was relieved.

via Daily Prompt: Relieved

Justin Davis-Justin Davis

This is a review of me, Justin Davis, the person. Album is self-titled obviously.

Justin Davis, born today, 26 years ago, is a black male hailing from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Now residing in Philadelphia, he attempts to slither through life as a product of his upbringing and experiences. He’s…alright.


Actual Picture of Justin

His parents raised him in church and taught him to be a generally respectable member of society. They were probably aware that his lot in life as a black man would make it harder for him but never let on that it could hinder him. They encouraged him to do things that he enjoyed and only applied force when they saw what was best for him (like getting a job). His parents were also results of their environment and could only raise him the way they thought best…which turned out to be decent. They are the reason he loves music and read a ton as a kid. Justin is curious, decent at many things, well liked (I THINK) and mostly healthy.

Not everything was/is sunshine and roses though. Personal trauma at a very young age and his first job at Walmart are two distinct events that had negative affects on Justin’s thought processes and emotional outlook. Experiencing retail first-hand formed a low expectation of humans in general and caused him to deaden his emotional range.  You can’t be hurt if you can’t feel (love proves this to be patently false no matter how hard one tries). It also made him a prolific liar. The dislike of people grew but so did a longing to be a part of society. Unsure of where his social awkwardness originated, he tries to navigate situations through analyzing all possibilities and having a prepared response. People tend to enjoy his company (GOD, I HOPE SO) but sometimes it results in him being the quietest person in the room. About the personal trauma…uuhhh nope, only family and few others know about it. Let’s just say that no good came of it, a net negative on his life projection that no child should have to experience.

Despite a concerted effort to only exhibit emotions between nothingness or joy, there is a quick tempered, easily annoyed person that is constantly kept in check. He’s made it his only goal to exclusively seek happiness. History shows that when he gets emotional, things change swiftly (and sometimes recklessly) to accommodate. Whether that be quitting a good job or ending a healthy relationship. Justin’s aware that his life outlook is inherently selfish, focused on bettering and appeasing himself first before putting a great deal of effort trying to better the world. Music makes him happy. Watching movies makes him happy. Puncturing the cellophane of a Ben&Jerry’s container makes him happy. Successfully weaving through a conversation makes him happy. Making someone else happy makes him happy. Playing the drums is not only deeply cathartic but is Justin’s positive contribution to the world and that contribution makes him happy. This pursuit of happiness, has created a strict set of social guidelines. Justin wants everyone that he interacts with to have a pleasant experience, even if he hates their guts. No excess drama, creating the least amount trouble and generally staying out the way.  This has caused sacrifices that he’s been willing to bear but he’s no saint because as previously stated…it is all for his happiness. And you know what: he’s pretty happy.

Justin Davis is a decent person. He needs to lose some weight and shrug off his tendency to choose laziness over something smarter but at 26 he’s got some time to figure it out. He uses his Twitter to vomit stream of consciousness nonsense and writes here not just for himself but in the hopes that someone can find just a little bit of joy in this RIDICULOUS WORLD.

7/10 because he got a haircut yesterday.

Thoughts on the Taper

Haven’t written anything dumb in awhile so here

*Theme Song*

Shout out to the GAP for making pants for big behind. I wouldn’t consider myself fat but I do have thick thighs and a big ol’ butt. I’m thicker than a bowl of oatmeal. Recently I discovered that the GAP made a straight leg pant that tapers at the bottom. They are perfect. I bought them in three colors. I’m wearing a pair right now.

I realized that I a lot of time when I talk I taper off. I wonder why? I already speak weird because of my big tongue (LOL I DONT KNOW IF THIS TRUE) so I shouldn’t make it hard for people to understand me. Start strong then trail off like I’m unsure of what I’m talking about.

I image searched the word “taper” on Google and the results were a bunch of dudes getting haircuts with it faded on the sides. I’m gonna start getting my hair cut like that. Currently I look like a homeless man but I got stuff going on soon (and get some cheeks), so I need to get taken care off. I used to get it all one length cut real low. Once, during a particularly bushy period when my coworkers were urging me to get my hair game situated, one said “You’re a man, you don’t wanna be lookin’ like a twelve year old boy.” He’s totally right. I might go today honestly.



via Daily Prompt: Taper

Food Rules, Portions Drool

What’s for lunch?

I’m a hungry person. As I’ve gotten older portions have really started to play a factor in my daily life. When I was younger I could eat a buttload of food and not feel bad. That ain’t the case anymore. Thanksgivings of the past would be a competition between the older dudes in my family, myself and my brother of who got the biggest plate. We would go in.

Recently I went to the Deke’s (RIP) and I was sure that I was gonna have at least four plates of their buffet. Not today. I had like two plates and after that I knew I was done. Couldn’t go any further. I was a little sad and a little glad because I’ve become substantially less active….which is bad. In my recent epiphany, I realized that generally I was eating too much. Drink more water, don’t get a full second plate, say no to the snack drawer at work.

SPEAKING OF WORK. I’ve never seen a place so consumed with food. There’s the aforementioned snack drawer filled with chips, Doritos, and cookies. On top of a file cabinet there are Swedish Fish and pretzels. Someone is always retiring, birthdaying, anniversarying and all those events are catered. “There’s food in the Large Conference Room.” Then like possessed robots, the entire office stands up and marches to our dooms free food. What I need to do is tell myself that just because it’s free doesn’t mean you have to eat it. Seems like you get hungrier as the price diminishes.

You could totally lose weight if you just controlled how much you took in; which is why meal prep is so poppin’. Also it’s cheaper if you eat less…that’s just like basic math.

Whatever, I need to get my food life together.


via Daily Prompt: Portion

Bedlam in Goliath is the Worst

That hurt to write.

I’m gonna try writing negative reviews of albums that I absolutely adore…for fun?

The Mars Volta’s Bedlam in Goliath is by far the Texas-based progressive rock band’s worst effort. As a fan of their earlier projects, this album is just jarring, loud and nonsensical. The biggest offender is the new drummer Thomas Pridgen, who, simply, does too much. I will delve more into him and his style in greater detail later.

The first thing you hear is Cedric Bixler-Zavala unintelligibly yelling at you in a weird high-pitched, electronically treated howl on the opener “Aberinkula.” For me, you can get the idea of the entire album by the first thirty seconds of the first song. It’s all pretty much one note. Very little variance in dynamics and tempo. Oddly enough, many songs have different parts or ideas that sound like they don’t fit together. In addition to all of this is the aforementioned screeching of the singer. It’s all in a super high register and you can barely understand what is being said. Basically, on top of all the noise (instrumentally or otherwise) you get another constant noise throughout every track.

Cedric Bixler-Zavala (left) and Omar Rodriquez Lopez(right)

The Mars Volta is influenced heavily by their Latin roots and on older projects this is abundantly clear. On Bedlam, we get the end of “Agadez”…… They also always offer a ballad that, on this project, should serve as a break for the monotonous noise. We are presented with “Tourniquet Man,” a strange, droning song with watery vocals, sparse drums and woodwinds. Eeeeehhhh. So what’s wrong with this project in comparison to older albums. Is the lengthy song times? Nope, fans are used to this. Is it the electronic sound effects that permeate the sound landscape? Nope, that’s a TMV staple. The problem is that there is no soul, no depth and too much of everything else.

Speaking of too much, the drumming is an egregious and indefensible error. Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, eccentric mastermind and lead guitarist, introduced us to this young “phenom” Thomas Pridgen. We go from groove master and tastefully aggressive Jon Theodore to this supercharged, pocketless, fill machine. I’m not sure how much Pridgen’s style influenced the music but his style definitely changes the entire feel of the band’s music. I honestly don’t know who to blame. Omar is notoriously controlling over his creations but Thomas played the instrument. How would Bedlam In Goliath sound with another drummer? Would it even exist?

A few positives include the mixing. You can hear EVERYTHING clearly. The levels and clarity are pristine; smaller things like horns and ambient noise are not drown out by guitars. While annoying, even the vocals sit right in the middle of the mix. Also, out of context, the drumming is mind-blowingly impressive from a technical standpoint. Their Grammy-winning, “Wax Simulacra” is a blurb of drumming wizardry that honestly can’t be ignored. Otherwise, the song is a mess.

You know what, fuck this. I love this album. I love the aggressive musicality. I love the technical, balls to the wall drumming from Thomas Pridgen. Somehow between all the craziness, each song offers some quality, stank-faced, head noddingness. This album blew my mind and changed my life. Maybe I’ll review it in earnest one day.



Yes, this is a short story of a cellphone named Darryl.

Hi, my name is Darryl. I’m a cell phone. My make and model don’t matter. All I know is that I have to do my job and survive for two years before I can retire in peace.

I belong to a young 26 year old man that is clearly just enjoying his life. We’ve been only been together for 5 months, 23 days and 19 hours and 39 minutes but he seems to care about me.  I’m usually in a warm pocket, a cool desk or a soft bed. Sometimes I get placed on new surfaces and there’s a little worry that I will be forgotten. So far so good though, unlike those pesky keys which sometimes get left inside (HA, That’s why I’m first in PKW). I would say that I vary between heavily used to utter nothingness pretty often. Like I said, I have a job to do but I do get a good amount of rest.

The biggest worry that us phones talk about is breaking and being replaced. We want to work and do our jobs but it’s like they keep making us thinner and more frail on purpose. WHY? Do you know how terrifying it is to see a wood floor or concrete sidewalk flying up at you through both of your cameras? First thought is always, “Welp, there goes my screen.” I’m just glad that we’ve evolved past the point where pieces of us were breaking off. Also, this dumb case I’m in thinks he’s sooo tough but I don’t trust him. One weird angle and I look like a colorful spiderweb. I’ve been dropped a couple times and luckily I haven’t broken but that sheer terror never goes away.

Survive the toss to the bed when he’s tired of me receiving messages (he doesn’t like you girl). Survive the drunken nights when the chance of a spilled drink rises exponentially (I hate rice). Survive time itself (Did you know they already made a 2nd Google Pixel???). Many of us don’t even make it to two years but the lucky few get to rest easy as grizzled vets prepared for our next journey.

I love the swiping, vibrating, the tickling of when a text is being typed. The warmth of my bottom when I’m charging up. I know that soon enough that I will lose functionality, get slower and newer models will be introduced. I’m okay with this but for as long as I’m around I will try my best.

But in the back of my CPU there will always be the thought: “Survive…survive…survive.”

via Daily Prompt: Survive