The Advocate

Latest draft. Beware: it gets dark in my head. These are my digressions: the pseudo-pop psychobabble of 22 year-old hipster chicks persuading collar-popped bros to trade in those polos and yolos and lokos for PBR mustachioed fixie apropo cutoff jorts made DIY for $88.99 at the cookie-cutter knock-off conveniently located 'round the corner from their gentrified ghetto-fab $4,000 per month apartment, complete with homeless cranks passed-out beneath window-barred taquerias serving those highwasted fashionistas (and their exposed underbuttcheeks) because this is cultural appropriation faster than you can say "National Geographic" These are my digressions: the flowetry of Jared Washington who the prison warden calls Tyrone Farraconvict he missed a stop & frisk but not the DWB down International Blvd so now he's got a nickel that turned into a dime for possession of long since legalized Mary Jane while Mr. Corporate So&So's bleach blonde spawn pleads affluenza f

It's important for me that anyone reading this to remember that this is a creative space I have created. It exists solely for the purpose of exploring myself, my art, my connections with the world and within myself. It's purpose is to constrain me within a specific medium in order to free me from the distractions that would see the amalgamation of thoughts swirling around my grey matter don't disappear into some subconscious escape-hatch. It's also important for me that anyone reading this to remember that I use a pseudonym in order to distance the Me that exists within this pocket dimension from the Me that exists outside it. I'm both those people, but the former is, only a very specific presentation of Me. The latter is Me with and without filters, the flesh and blood, the purposeful and the fallible. The former is Me as I am creating myself, exploring myself, swimming amid the breadths and depths of life in order to understand, to empower my artistic express

(Art by Dave Correia) Every day. Since January 22, 2003. I sit and I write. I read. I rewrite. I read something else. I write something else. I keep doing this and doing this and doing this. I have been writing so much for so long that I've lost more writing than I can remember or pull from storage. Some days I write better than others. Most days I just write what I need to write to make it to the next day to write something else, something more. I miss my life before writing, in certain ways. It was prelapsarian. It was before the recorded word. It was the BCE to my AD. I can imagine any number of things, any number of myths about who I was, why I was, how I was... Once I started writing, I became unable to distort my lived experience. It was stark. It was unambiguously factual. It was lacking adornment to the point of emaciation. Before I could write I was a life full of adventure and magic. It was tragedy, it was comedy, it was drama. It was. Now It simply is. My

As you all may know, I consider myself something of a wordsmith and I wrote a book called "Distorted Orange Hidden County" about 8 years ago. (Still available from Wingspan Press, Amazon, and B&N.) Since then, I've been working on a second book titled "Sad Bastard Poetry." Well, after many years of work, cobwebbing, fund-raising, and random changes, my book is finally almost here! Currently it is completing its way through the proofing stages with Dog Ear Publishing. As a teaser, I've included the cover and back cover material for your viewing pleasure. The book will be available in softcover and e-book forms through Amazon, B&N, etc. It should be available for purchase hopefully sometime this Summer! If you're interested in fiction, poetry, or just want to support me in general, please pick up a copy and/or tell your friends when it's released. I'll be posting more about the book as we get closer! Thanks you all!