Small patches of imagery, strung together with hazy thread... I'm quasi somnambulant as I stumble and grab the remnants of my tiny bag of coffee grounds. Jesus I needed that. First two things I felt this morning were...nothing. Okay perhaps that feeling that starts in your stomach and ends in the back of your neck after a night of heavy drinking and a little regret. I don't know anymore. I don't particularly care. See, here's that ever present dilemma again, conscience get the hell out of here I'm drinking my coffee and moving on. Because that's what you have to do, right? Live in the moment, they say. Be happy and don't think about everything--and that's how I try to do it.

And it works for me. 

Except for the fact that I keep breaking people's hearts. 

So sue me. Or don't, I certainly couldn't afford that. 

In fact, I prefer that things remain amicable. Hence, why I treat you better after the whole situation has blown over. Hence why I try to be honest upfront, even if my communication skills are less than adequate. I've never been very good at talking; but I lay what I can out there and hope for the best. It's hard to be an optimist these days when people are so starved for physical and emotion connection all in one package. Fuck you Facebook. 

Anyways, I suppose it's time I clue you in to some of my mantra that led to my tag as a certified, kid tested mother approved, "head fuck".

When I go out, when I do anything to be honest, I like to do whatever I want. It's a simple enough rule, one would think. But then there are those 'relationships' that everyone spends so much time elevating and articulating. Your rules, those rules of human connection, those little moments that linger in the memory and congeal into your subjective opinion of who I should be--those tend to conflict with my rule and that's where all these problems start.


I'm distant but people are always trying to get close to me. I'm never outwardly an asshole because it's just easier to be nice, catches people off guard a little, but I'm also not particularly good about cleaning up my messes.  Shatters and shards of partners past are usually swept just out of sight and I keep on keepin' on. 


Life isn't particularly tidy, and I'll have a maid someday.

The last couple of girls I left behind told me, in varying forms and with tones ranging from spite to sympathy, that I needed to "sort out my feelings" or "talk to someone" but I'm busy as hell, so hopefully this blog can accomplish both while being an interesting read to all you people who have ever wished they could take a peek inside the mind of an externally titled and internally accepted "head fuck"... Me!

Just to preface, I don't do it intentionally. Purpose doesn't really factor in. I just love living my life, the way I want to. I don't speak for all of the fucks out there, obviously. So here it is, greetings interwebs!

Enter into my den of iniquity.

See the way I let life happen around me—from the brain that constantly confuses the body, to the body that currently confounds the world (or at least a large section of lower Manhattan and the Bushwick area).

 I don't want to hurt anyone, never did, I just refuse to be caged in, ya dig?