ya local artist/ writer/ creative director/ cancer flower child who believes in partying hard and good food.
Photo shoot with photographer Christabel Ramirez
The Dysfunctional Love Story Of An Emotional Yet Incapable Of Trust Cancer Baby.
She was my first and only true love but we grew distance when she went to college. She lost interest as I lost my ambition, taken over by my abusive drinking trying to numb the fact that I acknowledge that she didn't love me anymore. I didn't realized at first but looking back at it retrospect, I knew she did what's best for her because I'd become too toxic and emotionally abusive for her well being. She told me she never intended to hurt me, but for someone who avoided feeling any emotional feelings towards her, how could I feel so torn apart when she she told me she was done with me? Where did the emotions come from? Have they always been there but I never had the guts to tell her how i felt? At the time I knew she cared about me more than just a friend and I wanted her too, but why did I push her aside to fuck with someone I barely knew? Why did i throw away what I knew was a deeper connection between us? I knew I should've kept my boundaries between us, but every time we were together and alone, I could open up to her in away I haven't felt in years, that's why I wanted her. Was our friendship worth hooking up and having sex?It was!! But now apart of me wishes we didn't because now I felt hurt and lonely again. I knew from the beginning she would fall for me, but I took her for granted anyways but now she wanted me more than ever . I couldn't put myself in a position to be with her, then because of that, I broke her heart. I barely knew who she was, was I in the wrong? I really enjoyed being around her and the conversations we had but she was so willing to have sex the first night,that's why I couldn't be with her. She was an intelligent woman with strong goals, why throw it all away for random sex with a guy you barely know? When you know you're worth more. At the time, I was so blinded by my sexual attraction to her, even tho I knew I was just other guy to her. We had been thru so much, more bad than good, why was I so hurt when you betrayed me? It wasn't the first but I still let you do me wrong over and over again. Part of me still hates you for what you did to me but i have respect for you because it made me a stronger person. I knew when we first met , you wanted me sexually and even tho i was dating someone,we both didn't care. It wasn't until the social consequences that we realized we both fuck up. Now you hated me more than I could imagine, even fucking random guys to get over me while blackout drunk. We were both confused and needed comfort and we didn't care if we were crossing an unspoken boundary we both knew we shouldn't cross. We were happy with each other for about two weeks but at the end we hated each other because we both knew we used each other for our own personal gain. That night ruined my life because we had sex to get back at the same guy. Turned out you were drunk and horny but you told people i took advantage of you and now nobody was there for me. I still hate you til this day and still hope for the worst of you. We were both lonely and wanted comfort. We liked each other a lot and we could've been something more, but you went sober and I was still heavily drinking. I was unhealthy for you and you broke it off before it was too late, I will always respect that. You just got your heart broken and I was there to comfort you but as a friend. The more we kicked it, the more our feelings grew past our friendship. After our first sexual encounter , you broke it off because you didn't want anything past causal sex. I fell for you in a way I haven't in a long time, you made me feel lonely and abandoned just like how you felt. Better me than you, right?
Only a self-inficted, self-doubting, self-destructive soul will truly understand the meaning of a mis-guided love.
Disclaimer: this story is about 13 different women in the past 6 years, it's not in order because I decided to write it like that.
A Lonely Night In Florence
As i walked into the hard rock cafe, where I was previously getting drunk the night before, I saw the same bartender as he welcomed me with a huge smile and a hand shake. He really enjoyed that I was at the bar yet again working on another short story. He turned to the nice looking couple next to me and told them I had been writing a lot and that one day I would become a famous writer. One day I hoped to achieve what he had just told them, I was honored that this random person who I have no knowledge of who he was, believed in me more than I did. Maybe he was just doing his job, but I still appreciated what he said anyways. I apart of me would later think it was genuine because he asked for my info , just in case I ever put him in one of my stories. I told him I deff would, he smiled with joy because now I would take his name across country. For you curious readers , his name was Mattia. He would ask me why I came to the bar to do my writing and not at home where it's quiet and peaceful, I told him I enjoyed writing in a chaotic environmental, it was where I felt truely at peace and where I could freely put my thoughts down on paper and writing while intoxicated because I would hold back no emotions. He responses, "don't get too drunk that you won't remember how to get back home." In a jokingly manner , I told him I had been thru way worst and still made it home safe and uninjured, just had no clue how it happened. He laughed and told me to be safe and to that, I would raise my 12 oz. glass of craft brew as a sign of acknowledgement. Two shots later and some contemplating, I would call him over and ask for another 12oz of brew, he asked "of what?", I must've looked confused because when he saw my reaction, he knew I met another brew. I laughed and told him, "you're working to hard" , he leaned forward across the bar table and said, "I'm training this new asshole behind me", we shared a laugh as I went for the first sip of my freshly poured 12 oz brew. I noticed on the trainies arm he had a tattoo that resembled the skull for the day of the dead. I asked him what it meant for him, he explained that he had been in 2 deadly motorcycles accidents and broke his collar bone twice in his right arm and his grandfather told him to slow his life down. After his grandfather died, he would get that skull tattoo as a rememberence of his grandfather advice. Now two things were going thru my mind, the first was my pop's told me the exact same thing a couple hours earlier. The second was the death of my best friend tony, who died a couple months ago from a horrible car accident. I got depressed but took another shot to remember that he was a wild, heavy drinking motherfucker. He wasn't drunk at the time of his death. I still wished I could call him up and have another bullshit conversations that we used to have everyday, just an excuse to hear your voice again. I really miss you , you were the only one who there for me when nobody else was, why did this cruel world take you away? It felt that everytime I was drunk and sad, you're always the first person I think of , because honestly you were the only one who I could relate to the most. I had more respect for you for being my only friend when nobody wanted anything to do with me, I respect you more than I respect myself. I felt a tear drop run down my right cheek, I told myself , don't cry, be strong, be strong because I knew Tony was looking down at me with a smile , telling me everything would be ok. Everything is not ok, I needed you now more than ever, I confinded my deepest ,darkest secrets to you, now who will be there for me like you were. Not speaking relationship wise but as two human beings acting as brothers, looking out for each other, caring for each other. Not a day goes by when I wish we could link up after work and get another six pack and a pint of jameson, go to some random steps and drink.
A Way To Get Out
It was October 30, 2:09 p.m exactly, kev and I were on the 88 bus going to downtown shattuck, to try out this new southern comfort restaurant that had opened a couple months before. As we sat directly across from each on the bus, in complete silence, I had so much going thru my head. I had just got back from Guatemala a couple hours earlier with pops , who had just lost his brother , to aclcohism. He tried escaping a 3 story window from a locked room he was in, to try and get a drink, he fell, smacked his head and died. It was a week before our Europe trip that I get a call from my older brother, asking if I can go to Guatemala with my dad in support of him and so he wouldn't be alone, I agree to go and they went.... After getting off the bus, we casually smoked my Turkish royal cigs and ran into my homie ,slim, waiting for his other homie to swoop , we talked for a couple minutes about my trip before he turned to get into the car. I said my goodbye to everyone in the car he just jumped into , and continued to the restaurant while still smoking my cig. We walked into the restaurant, the lights were lightly dim, old school jass played in the background, a nice young blonde waitress came over, and took us too the table. As we sat down, looked at the menu for a couple of mintues, we joked about what to get, then processed to order our food. I had then realized , I never got to tell kev, what I was thinking about on the bus, I was so excited to explain to him what i was thinking. I began to explain to him, how in Guatemala, my pop's family , would compare me and my pop's personality so much, they would say, "you really are your father son". I asked, "how?give me an example". As I awaited their response, I had this feeling that I already knew what they were gonna say. As I imagined , their response consumed of "my drinking habits were just like my pop's" (alcoholism runs on my dad's side) , my infatuation with taking care of little children and being a caregiver in my family were just like my dad's (before he had 9 kids) , the always smiling thru the pain aspect my father carried is something I learned thru my own life experience, and even down to our facial structure was more alike than any of my other siblings, I was legit a product of my father . It seems that the only thing that kept us different and strange to each other, was my ability to feel pain and depressed when times felt like i had hit rock bottom, but for him, it was just life and he kept going on and living. That is not the case for me, as something I learned from my mother at a very young age , was don't deny the emotions you feel, to embrace them makes you strong. Although even with the death of my grandfather, my father's first son, and even his brother, he was so numb to the pain, I'd never seen my father cry and as much as I have all the respect and love for my dad, I still hated him for that reason, because i felt that he wouldn't shread a tear for me when I died. After explaining my death fear to kev , he proceeded to ensure that if my pop's didn't cry, I have more than enough people who are willing to cry for me , I smiled at his reinsurance. In the past couple years, I had become someone who can only be friends with people for a couple of years before we slowly drifted apart. I knew kev from this continuation school we went to together in high school, he was always my older homie, and we had smoked before in the past. A couple month ago, when he became infatuated with flim (taking pictures) , I made it my goal to introduce him to my new group of friends who were socially active in the Oakland art scene. Just a month before my planned Europe trip, we had came up with the idea to start our own zine, even tho we both had completely different reasons for why we wanted the zine. Kev was really interested in improving his photography, while I just need something to put my focus on because I had be drinking and going out every night after work, feeling like I lost my true purposes in life. I've felt like this for a while now, not going to school because I didn't wanna waste my time on something I was completely ready for or not slowing down my drinking ,because I still felt the pain of not having someone to feel open and happy with so I would numb myself with booze until I couldn't remember the night before. I told myself that this zine will be your outlet from now on. This zine with be your blackout drug from staying up late nights ,trying to finish it by the deadline . It will be my true love for a long time because I knew I was emotionally unavailable for anyone who truely care about me. As we sat in that restaurant kev also mentioned how he felt that this zine would completely change our lives, I was curious to what he meant. He mentioned that, as the public figure in the zine , my life would only intensify because I would be exposing my lifestyle to a level of exposure that was far beyond the standards of instagram and how as the anyomous figure of the zine, he was be able to make a name out of his photography without anyone knowing it was him. I would later agree with this statement because we both knew what we wanted out of this zine, which was a certain type of exposure for the both of us but just enough to keep it along the line of what we wanted in our zine. I specifically remember talking about Jean Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol at that restaurant and how I imagined myself as the basquiat/warhol in my family because I knew I didn't wanna live a normal life with a normal job with the wife , kids and a dog. I wanted to live fast, exposing my art and other people's art , being remember as always on the move, could never settle down then tragically die from a horrible accident or an overdose, that's how I wanted to live my life. Not your ideal lifestyle but it's definitely not the norm in society, That's why i was soo attracted to it.