Some nights, the hardest part of writing isn’t the writing — it’s the limbic friction, the bloating, the tech acting stupid, and the long days stacked with gigs, Pilates, and L.A. chaos. Between a rebellious gut, a glitchy laptop, and a productivity goal I’m trying to hit, this is the unfiltered truth of what it takes to do the thing anyway.
Read Morey'all could never make me hate the hood
After a craving for fries sent me to JJ’s Fish and Chicken on the “bad” side of town, I was reminded of something people forget: the hood is full of warmth, humor, and community. Between taped booth seats, cheap fried food, and strangers laughing together, I felt safer and more at home than in any suburb.
Read MoreI’ll Get There When I Get There
On the way to a gig—already late and oddly unbothered—I found myself reflecting on procrastination, productivity, and why a cold shower might be the real hero of my day. Between a no-nonsense Polish coach, childhood memories, and a 12-hour shift ahead, I’m realizing that producing—tangible or not—is what keeps me alive and aligned.
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Sitting in a locally-owned coffee shop, it came to me… idgaf about an algorithm fr, why did I “niche down” trying to please one?
forget the analytics
SEO can kiss my a-s-s and the algorithms can follow in line.
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