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Memory Fractals

1980s. A frustrated young man sits in front of a mirror. He's writing and torn pages sit on the floor all around him.

Ghost in the Machine: A Pop Culture Junkie's Confession

Recently I decided that I needed to take a sobering look at my life. In an effort to figure out why I've constructed an impenetrable barrier of genuine feeling, I cleared my mind and went exploring. I thought about my past and how every decision I've made in life has lead up to this exact moment of contemplation. I thought about the future and how completely selfish I am. The next several years seemed to have no consideration of family, friends, or the inkling of a significant woman. That disgu…

In the background, a highly detailed and realistic x-ray of a chest takes up the entire frame, with a subtle gradient of grays and whites, on top of which a high-resolution illustration of a broken heart is prominently placed where the heart would be, with blood dripping from the heartache in a dark crimson color, the broken heart illustration is rendered in a mix of bold lines and soft textures, with cinematic color grading and cinematic lighting applied to enhance the dramatic effect, the image features a shallow depth of field, a noticeable vignette, and a beautiful bokeh, reminiscent of photographs shot with kodak porta 400 film or cinestill 800, captured with a leica m10 camera, with a filmic quality to the overall aesthetic, and a carefully crafted color grading that amplifies the emotional impact of the scene.

Declaration of Honesty

The façade of my vociferous "happily single" column onslaught can no longer be kept up. That really bums me out. It has nothing to do with putting my foot in my mouth or the painstaking conversations that will ensue once a certain few get their hands on this confession. No, the lies can no longer continue because an amazing woman has crept under my skin. "Under my skin" is such a disgusting and horribly visual phrase. Like a splinter starting to fester, turning red as it swells. That exactly is…

3.7 Seconds

I have a picture hanging on my bedroom wall of a beautifully discontent woman. The LA skyline is in the background, black and white. The woman’s tank top is white and her hair is black, rich sun-kissed skin glowing. Her eyes are closed but if she were to open them she’d be looking at her shoes. Her posture, however, is what ties this picture together. She’s confident. Her shoulders, cheeks and lips have not been defeated. Her head is heavy but her spirit is on fire. I find myself thinking abou…

A female rock star holding a pink guitar. She has pink hair and is wearing sunglasses. She's standing a willy wonka field of pink flowers. Generated by LeonardoAI.

Crushed by Chloe: A Media Masochist's Tale

I read something the other day that made a lot of sense to me. I wish I could remember what it said. I’m so sick of television, music, movies, and books that I actively go out of my way to watch even more TV and listen to more music. I’m a media masochist. I’m not completely sure why I enjoy torturing myself. Like at this very moment No No No is playing through my stereo by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. My heart sinks in such a beautifully content way. I suppose I could relate it to all the women…

Vibrant neon. A man and woman argue while having dinner on the patio of a restaurant. Generated with LeonardoAI.

01 February 2008

Instant Gratification: Dating

Being the 20 something single that I am, dating is not only on my mind but also the people I surround myself with. Not necessarily even those who are single, in most cases it’s friends in relationships who try to live vicariously through my encounters. Most of our conversations are concluded by them accusing me of being a moron, I guess having the reassurance of someone at home gives them the confidence to make such statements. However, I can’t argue with them. I am a moron, or as I like to pu…

An old man with white hair and purple sunglasses eating sweets. A purple and blue psychedelic background.

The Bitter Truth: A Candid Reflection on Mortality

Recently, I've been faced with a lot of questions about mortality. It just seems to be a constant issue in which all endings are bleak. Think about it, this little journey we're all on. The young years, all of which you are in who would be reading this, are great. Everything is new, we have dreams for the future and ideas of how we want our lives to turn out. Does anyone really think past 55 or 60? I mean, once you've risen to the top and you've gracefully bowed out of your professional life…

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Additional Articles

THE BALLAD OF
STEVIE PEARL

A modern fish-out-of-water entagled with Romeo and Juliet.

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