real men..

chicago, storefront.

Real men like to have a few secrets and mature the more time they spend with women.

Real men have nose hairs, and toe hairs, and gut hairs, and a fear of being trapped.

Real men pick things and scratch things and still want their dads to be proud.

Real men let their heads turn to mush around each other and always want to win.

Real men are just humans, with attachments.

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how to create.

paint on brick.

I'm an artist of words. It's my blessing as much as my curse, however I'm not blessed with discipline, in fact I'd rather be sleeping or partying at all times. It's not to say that it isn't satisfying to put your own words together. Less satisfying is to share them with random cyberspaces. It's some weird thing within the artist that somehow needs an audience, preferably one that will eventually understand them, and maybe someday give them a hug.

And words are especially important right now, underrated and underpriced, but priceless and invalueable. When people are bouncing off walls of shopping malls and cyber chatrooms looking for gratification first, little take time to say something meaningful, or create something.

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