Monday, November 22, 2010

Ban on B.A.N. (Bitch Ass Nikkuhs)

This one goes out to all the fellas who are infected by the bitchass nikkuh disease. Thank you for all the gents that love to run your mouths and the nice young man on the train who seemed to be extraaa shiny for inspiring this...along with all the other faggatrons disguised as men that seem to be running rampant in these times...smh.



Gents, it seems that bitchassdedness has become an epidemic
Please stop frontin like you're the owner of a brand new pair of vaginal lips
afraid to approach a female who can outsmart you in a battle of wits
afraid to put pride aside...
afraid to admit...
let alone ever understanding how to initiate a conversation with a clit...
Are you seriously crying on the internet???...that's not even deemable to be called a tiff
You really should take boxing lessons
cause a mouth that loose calls for a busted lip
No, but really, you got beef on the web??...
Go thump in the street and get your teeth knocked out instead
Now maybe you won't talk so much...get a full time job
exercisin' those gums and jaw
slobbin up some nob
while rockin ya bitches a-cup braw
You...Batman?....helllll nah
Not even Robin,
cause even with your effeminate desires of pressin' up on 'bad' guys with that tightass suit on your skin...
your 'nots' must be tucked...or be a small fit
since they stillllll ain't poppin'
So yes, men, afraid of your own semen,
please go to a gay club with all those unnecessary excuses to act so damn feminine...


Apologies in advance to the 'straight' men who secretly are less suited to strut and more to prance
You know you're an STD dumpster slut…stop worrying about her past
We know what's up...
you got leprechaun meets infant meets midget hands...
Stop braggin' about how many bitches you got tryin' to get in your pants...
be more concerned with a need to socially advance
and knowing how to hold down an income, a home, and a mindfulness of future plans
a desire to truly know yourself...understand
Shit, you're 30 and live at home with your momma
TRUST...you are NOT THE MAN
Actually, with the amount of time you spend in the mirror
I'm surprised you don't practice a Zoolander glance
and that little 2-step dance...
so you can make sure you got your angle right and get on your
"I'm a peacock, please, please, pleaaaaase other dudes in the club, please notice me"
stance...


Your fear of self and emotional acknowledgment
is just a pathetic excuse to inflict,
words rooted in insecure rhetoric
I mean really, so quick to diss, so quick to knit pick
Is this all just a mask to hide your man boobs turned double d tits??
She's too intimidating, she'll break your heart??
Stop using that lame ass excuse to always be the one to inflict the scars...


You fuck with hoes, chickenheads ad grimey bitches,
but technically,
you're their penile equivalent
Silly bird, you're a dude more insecure with mommy issues
than a 15 year old pregnant chick
who dreams of trickin' for a livin'
Someone in your past hurt you so it justifies your current state of being a prick...
I'm tired of the excuses...
Get the fuck over it.
Oh, and while you're at it, you might wanna spit
but be careful before you get his cum stains on your girl's brand new carpet, since she'll surely trip
And while you're at it
Get some lotion on those knees so the rug burn doesn't stick


Men, no emotion?
They don't voice their feelings?
They don't have time to understand love and devotion?
You're in a delusion
grow up and move past it, understand that you're human
Now you might be able to truly materialize your vision
Once you accept that, you'll be more than a man
Until then I have no patience for your over-hyped self-perceptions...
and needs to wallow in sado-masochistic rituals
of female deprecia-tion


She thinks differently, that's a problem??
She's too outspoken??...c'mon son
Your penis is shrinking and your balls are gonna be too small to dot the question mark that is
your constant erectile dysfunction
And of course I can demoralize your image by attacking your phallic self-obsession
Your self-esteem is frail
Forget about the fact that intellectually
your softer than a baby's bottom


Gossip, talk shit, we fucked??...
That's funny considering we've never even hung out, hugged or touched...
let alone kiss...
anyway, I understand...
We could never in real life cause you're probably too paranoid about having a little dick complex
Please, I know you truly wish that you could imaginatively enhance the girth of your 'magic stick'...
Hold up...
Exactly...
It's magic...poof, where'd it go…What happened to it??
So with that, seriously, although I know you're envious,
back the fuck off....
and reeeeeally, hop off myyyyyy dick.



- © 2010 by Jessica Freites

Friday, November 5, 2010

Love and Light...


Love and Light...

unconditionally bright, despite pitfall plights lurking in the most silent darkness of nights, alone, you stand and grow to exponential heights, towering over gray clouds that hover tears overlooking the moon, rising over redwoods and beanstalks in bloom, all with the intention of a child in womb...all with the ascension of rapture spawned out of doom...in the hours where the right and the wrong seem to dance along to a song that's nothing more then penned tragedies, blessings forgone, this ballad is nothing more than a madness psalm, a song sung by madmen, for ages unknown and you're ready to retire as lead in this tune...but all is really more than right because you're still in it, still in the fight, round 12 has approached and your opponent is withered of pride, the swiftness of his strength no longer has you mesmerized, you've managed somehow to hollow the evils inside, his black breath is weak, in dying whispers it begs for reprise, his left hook is shot, his right couldn't make even an infant cry, as he is consumed by the light, he falls to his knees, battered blood pools vanish into nothing more than dust, 'victory' is painted along the tattered canvas, bearing reproach on past visions, obstructions in sight, your opponent was no opponent at all just a mindful eye, a spectator, to witness the winning match of I against I.



- © 2010 by Jessica Freites

Friday, July 23, 2010

Venting Adorned in Poetical Face Paint...

I feel like everrryone can relate to this to an extent...that's the funny part. We're all so connected in our forms and manners of disconnection in hopes of self-understanding. But well, sometimes you don't need anyone to relate to you, you just need to be you...you need to be able to SCREAM and be left completely alone. You may want the whole world to HEAR you and could really give less of a fuck if anyone actually LISTENS...just as long as you weren't told..."Hey, stop shouting"...when in actuality you're just breathing...LOUDLY.


This is not poetry...this is me venting...this is me telling you, Hey! how ya doing...actually, no 'how ya doing,' just me telling you how I feel. This is what's driving me insane at the current moment...this is what's making me feel like me yesterday made more sense than me today and me tomorrow is my only hope for today...this is what's making it excruciating to have a conversation of substance with 99% of the population 99% of the time. This is why I smoke...regularly...this is why I cry in the name of joy and laugh in moments of suffering. This is why I'm me and you're you and we vibe AMAZINGLY or not...at...all (despite what you may think). This is not a cry for help, it is a testimonial of what is...I'm not requesting pity, nor understanding...I don't want a follow-up conversation...that's why I'm writing this as opposed to speaking this...although...This is not poetry.

This is the way my hand holds my heart, my fingers yell, my pen screams, my notepad processes and my ink bleeds...for me...in the name of MY understanding. This is venting. This is not a letter...there is no 'Dear so-and-so'...or 'To Whom It May Concern'...it may concern no one. I'm fine with that. Actually I prefer it that way, because if you're concerned, you shouldn't be and having to UN-concern you would only deplete me of more energy which has already seeped and drained through my...vents...pun intended. This is not poetry.

If I wanted pity and/or attention I would have let myself cry in front of all of you a long time ago...I'll cry later...Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten so good at smiling...all the time. I would've made you feel lucky...or hate yourself...or hate me...for complaining so much, about the most insignificant matters of life...of your life...because those matters don't really matter to anyone but yourself, let alone hold any matter of weight in life...pun intended. But...I listen...I smile, laugh, bitch...about the stupid shit, so you'll never really know what I'm venting about...you wouldn't understand anyway...there is no room for interpretation...This is not poetry.

This is not a rant...well, maybe a little...this is me venting. Pumping air out of my lungs, my words escaping breath, seeking refuge from ears, so they can fall and plummet into an abyss that lies somewhere between Pg. 0 and infinite...absorbed and eternally embraced... and only existing...here. This is me figuring out where my loyalties lie...where my words' best interests are the topic of non-discussion...where they resonate past your perception and are silently heard. This is me telling you I know what's best for me without telling you a damn thing...not to mention, I refuse to take advice from someone just as, if not more emotionally and mentally challenged than myself...no thank you...no critiques necessary...
This is not poetry.



- © 2010 by Jessica Freites

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Assault on Emotional Intelligence (EQ)

For me to write this is almost self-defeating...I shouldn't acknowledge human weakness, right?...actually I should, it's probably one of the only conditions WE all have in common...and this here...this is MY platform, MY stage, MY "connection" to relating, helping YOU help ME...
MY ego might like to believe...

I might just be helping YOU...speaking on behalf of YOU, YOU and YOU...oh and YOU too....making the other YOU maybe step back relax, inhale and prevent your other inner YOU from acting like a blithering idiot...the one standing over there...yeah, HIM...or HER.
But we're all ONE...right?...that's what one of my YOUs is telling me to tell YOU...


My insecure ME is smirking as YOU read this...thank YOU for that.

By definition, 50% of the population is below average -- where intelligence is concerned...look around...which one of YOU is it?

And what kind of intelligence are we talking about here??...the one that got a 1400 on the SATs?...no, no. The one that can memorize and recite formulas and verses and equations
and put to rest the rest of anything taken out of context found in a text-book...or even a text?...

shake...
MY...
head...


Nahhhh, not that one. Wait, wait...lemme think, I almost got it, I feel it, I can't really describe it...I mean, YOUUUUU know?...right? Common sense isn't common and feelings are often the victims of perpetual serial suicide. We hold on to insecurity more than we do love...oh wait, that's cause we can't hold on to love...
it holds on to us,

if it chooses...

Let me rephrase that; we grasp insecurity firmly, violently, passionately pressed to our chest...with nails carving "I LOVE YOU" in so deeply that the pool of blood on the floor leaves us where we started...
alone,
with only a reflection at best...


But yet...
we keep grasping tighter and deeper and longer...Time doesn't even have this much dedication...and our loyalty is measured by our own emotional destruction...

We love to hate love...

We love to hate...ourselves...

MY wrists have converted to jackhammers and now I can barely see the bits of my nailbeds because they're nailed in,
embedded
in-bed-dead
tossing and turning, drowning in red-rum nightmares, hemorrhaging hearts,
cesspool typhoons, thimbled fingers nailing looms,

sewing towels to sop up the mess...fabric smiles to shield, using them to fight...
ourselves and the aborted notions of
future happiness.


Oh insecurity...
emotional intelligence only has so much patience for your antics...


the same insecurity that forces a male to think more with his head's foreskin...
to feel like the MAN upon
penetration,
to say "I Love You's" one day, I never cared the next, let's fuck on the third, and c'mon you always knew you were my favorite...
Let's be together now, before I was scared...
I wasn't sure if you'd always be there, I miss you, I miss your stare...

but wait let me figure out how to keep the others engaged...you know, just in case...you go astray...
I'm still the MAN...they still see me...I don't see them though, it's only you...
I just keep them around to remind me how special you are...
You don't feel the same?...the memory of our lie isn't entertaining to you, you're not amused by my games?
It's a waste of time?...Oh no???

Well fuck you, you're just another chickenhead hoe..anyway...

the same insecurity that has her more concerned with destroying her past lovers love interests than nurturing the self-love which she continues to neglect...
We have so much history, I can't let you leave...
you complete me...
I'm loyal, so loyal I'll kill myself and kill you
all in the name of a love that doesn't even acknowledge absolute truth...
and I'll hold on and grip, and to shreds I will make sure to rip
anything that destroys my wedding bell dreams...
even if the memory of we is really a nightmare...

even if it means you hating me and me hating you
but it doesn't matter cause as long as I own you
in my playhouse then I can play house and pretend there's a we and to be the woman
I will never know as me...


the same insecurity that has my ethnic brethren chillen at the bottom of economic stepladders because a pair of fly kicks and stacks fatter than the content of our gray matter is what really matters...right?...
Let them know how proud you are, how loud you can scream
BORICUA!! DOMINCANO!! LATINO!!...
let them know how loud your bass thumps, how to thump on your children's temples and self-esteem,
how to instill...fear...
how to have THE MAN fear you...
just make sure you clock in on time so THE MAN can keep feeding you...

Make sure your hair and nails are done,
the gold on your chest lies precisely in sight...the gems in your ears make me you a conquistador queen...

You just haven't conquered how to feed your children food that won't poison their Spanglish tongues and not turn them into
illiterate fiends....


Insecurity, the imaginary best friend we never had...

In-Security; i.e., NON-Secure...Does that make any sense???? holding on to the non-secure???...

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and
expecting different results. "

-Benjamin Franklin


And yet these insecurity cycles continue...we see them in every aspect of society...every human, every culture, every generation, every relationship, every YOU, every ME, every WE...and we embrace them more than truth...we fight wars over them, we commit "crimes of passion" over them, we raise future emotional terrorists because of our need to project these wounds onto the exact beings which are supposed to be products of our "love" and in doing so we continue to fail miserably on the Emotional Intelligence scale. We forget that love predates us...It is not dependent upon our definition. We must learn its definition, we must live its definition...even if we can't write a 1500 word SAT essay on it.

It exists with or without YOU...it is not conditioned upon us and our insecurities...which means it is bigger than and more powerful than ALL of us...


Let love condition YOU...



- © 2010 by Jessica Freites

Monday, April 26, 2010

Untitled Love Poem


The beauty often lies in the shadows…
where the curves and dips lurk
awaiting the shadows of another

Only in the coolest of shade
such deeply misunderstood trenches are
a bed bred of
warm breath n’
hot sweat
enough passion and sex
to keep the dimming lighthouse
within ya chest
fueled,
beaming, gleaming and streaming
up
massaging the nape of your neck
deep tissuing your spinal cortex
and
surging, cracking and blasting
the thick walls of your tunnel vision mask n’
Now,
the same curves and dips are baskin’ in
….light…
in the dance of
rays n’ wind
….bright…
just raise ya hand
…right…
…never the left…
Feel me.

See,
cause, I was chillen
alone, numb and cold
in my maximum security snowglobe
Forced to reflect upon walls
of tainted mirrors made of distorted glass
Pictures painting self-portraits portraying crystal ball futures
laden of false pasts…

My solitary snowglobe…

But you,
you helped me bust
through the frosted dome…
(all three of them…ha)

And now the shards of broken glass
reflect spiderglassed glimmers
of memories past
With the sun’s hand reaching down
to wipe away the debris of dust
clouding future’s path
No more are we on the inside looking out
nor merely on the outside looking in
We’re IN our outside
and OUTISDE our in
and when we philosophize and dwell upon
each other’s skin
there’s a loophole in time
and a shift in spatial atmospheric
conditions
That when we breathe to each other
we generate….wind
So bold and so transcendent
Sweeping away the still hollow solitudes
of snowglobes within

So put ya right hand up and
FEEL ME.
Feel his words breathe…
You take my breath away…
actually,
I gave it to you willingly.
Let that same breath
be the oxygen that lights THAT flame
within ya chest
guarding it
with a bullet proof vest…
My hide-out vestibule
for blind love-fools
shell-shocked
from cherub bows and arrows
and hollow tip travels
into the cores of
right and left ventricles
With shock absorbent forces
to absorb the clamorous stampede
of horses
who’ve trampled my heart
in previous affairs
with an
“I’ll always be there…”
type of sentiment

But you…you’re different
Cause you,
You make me feel a certain kinda way
You know, that certain kinda way when your glances
play tag…
that glance you get withdrawals from and fiend for
that glance that later develops into a stare
A stare…that’s always lingering
riiiiiiiight….there.
Cause regardless of your physical
where…
abouts
there is no doubt
that you SEE me
You see me,
You know me,
You HOLD me with your gaze
speaking to me
at my dream’s peak
and as intimidatingly
as it may be

I want it…

That feeling
You know that feelin’
you be feelin’
when you’re feelin’ like ya illin’
like a group of children
who just
went in on
some sugary sweet
Sour Patch chilerrrins
So sweet, so so so sooo sweet
You’re gonna need
some new fillings
to bite, to suck, to lick, to fuck
to harness your inner smut…
Well,
that’s the other side of that certain kinda way feelin’
When the idea of his seminal seed
implants itself into your
bed of thought
to sprout various versions of perversions
adorned in thoughts of romance
n’
holding hands
n’
all that corny shit
that’s got you smitten,
lifted
off into an outer planetary trip
trippin’
off endorphins
cause the horizons of bodies in different orbits
make me want to astral project myself
into your landscape’s orifices.
To learn the shadow of your eclipse
and experience the constellation of your
Big Dip-
per
and I’ll stay and get lost in you and you’ll get lost in me
just to come to realize that
we
as one
are universal consciousness in love

The beauty often lies in the shadows…
where the curves and dips lurk
awaiting the shadows of another



- © 2010 by Jessica Freites

Friday, February 12, 2010

No Homo - You're Gay

"You can't be fuckin people in the ass and say that you're a gangsta" Thank you Method Man for the clarification.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

The Count is a Pimperish Dirtbag


FRUITY PEBBLE PIMPIN'

He wears a gaudy robe, has a foreign accent, all black errrthang underneath, tight ass edge at all times (no stuble) and lives in a dope ass mansion...sounds like some suave dirtbaggin' goin' on to me.



I Heart This...


and this


and this song...


and poopies...

Effin' Cool - The Work of Shohei


Ball-point pen...brought to you buy Shohei. Wild

Thank you The World's Best Ever for this one.

Shepard Fairey's Relief for Haiti Print



Shepard Fairey, Studio Number One’s Cleon Peterson, and Casey Ryder collabed together in conjunction with Artists for Peace and Justice to bring us this very fresh Relief for Haiti print. Besides it going towards a good cause, I'm happy to see good ol' 'O' incorporating some different color tones in this one. The print is based on a photo captured by Tao Ruspoli and can be purchased on the official OBEY site....surprise, surprise :)

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Like Self-Esteem and 19 Year Old Bulemics...

...it just don't fit, or maybe it dooooes??? Im just sayin'...


No but seriously, you really sure you wanna let your hoo-hoo near this one??????

Lady Gaga and Marilyn Manson = <3



Tasty Safety Smut

Classic film...

Shoe Lust

Nike Air Jordan IV "Oreo"



Sooooooon to be released. And seriously, mama needs a suga daddy.

Boundless Radio Returrrrrrrrrrrns

The Return of Boundless Radio from Kellen Dengler on Vimeo.


It's the return of dopeness streaming into your earspace and massaging your brain. It's been sometime now since these cats were broadcasting on East Village Radio. We've all seen DJ Teddy King holding down the Boundless fort clothing wise as well as musically, but now they're back LIVE. Yessss. For more info and streaming, peep the Boundless blog.

Happy Trees...

Monday, February 1, 2010

Different Over Here - Streets Buchanon feat U-N-I, Bk Cyph and Lex One



Just had the homie Lex One shoot me this gem. Smile hip hoppers. PEEEEEEEEP it shhhhun!!!

The Illumination of Life


So anyone who knows me well enough, know that my relationship with my father has been a comical (like a dark comedy), painful, loving, fond, cold, awkward, distant, non-existent, existent one.

Once upon a time he painted...beautifully I might add. And after a few years of not really seeing him and barely speaking with him he showed me this..."The Illumination of Life."

For a seemingly non-spiritual, non-profound individual to make this piece with this message as the body, "Thanks for a gift that will spark up the light...,"well let's just say it resurfaces years of buried dialogue. Thank you Dad, guess we're not THAT different after all.

P.S. Women do really date "their fathers"

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Did You Know?

I suggest you watch this vid, and pay attention. Just sayin'...

Did You Know? from Amybeth on Vimeo.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

For Her Listening Pleasure



P.S. Gentlemen, you know you love this shit. And if you don't, well you should start reexamining why you're not getting an ass.

NYC Gets the Best of Me...


You ever feel like your phone is like the creature in Alien, but instead of it trying to escape by ripping and shredding out of your womb in a violent struggle it's doing the reverse and passively aggressively attaching itself to your brain to then slowly spread and embed itself into your cellular composition?

Shoe Lust

Lacoste x M.O.B.


Mama needs a suga daddy.

Boo Pic of the Week


21 Jump Street Boo

You Know What They Say About a Man's Feet...


Sebago Lighthouse in Tinsel Black & Dark Brown


Adidas Originals x James Bond for David Beckham

Colette x Burberry Trench

Rock Chic...



Hot Sex on a Platter

Rhymefest - Exodus 5.1

Cause hip hop doesn't suck alllll the time.


Friday, January 29, 2010

HaHa Pick of the Day

Summer Heights...


Back When Myspace Surveys Gave Life Meaning

My fine is $520.50, guess I'm a semi-dirtbag...yeah I've pissed in a pool. You have to, don't lie you filthy liar.

Via Facebook Message (more appropriate for a Myspace bulletin, once upon a time)

This is fun to do. Just read the 'offense' and if you've done it, you owe that fine.
You don't have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.
NOTE fines to be added once, not for how ever many times you have done it.

Smoked weed -- $10
Did acid or pills -- $5
Ever had sex at church -- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace/Facebook/Bebo etc -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Ever had sex with a Puerto Rican -- $20
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Cross dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed someone who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive and drank -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a vehicle while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video or took pictures -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in public -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex --$25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars-- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under the age accepted by rule of thumb (half your age plus 7) -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time-- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Pissed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex -- $80
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

Tally it up and put it on ur status as: "My Fine Is..." (nothing else) then repost

Effin' Cool

My top 'effin' cool' picks for the day.


See through frogs..effin' cool.



All black errrrrr'thang.



Like Self-Esteem and 19 Year Old Bulemics...

...it just don't fit, or maybe it dooooes? I'm just sayin'...


Hippie Ish...

Yeah, so often times I want to dance around in a field with flowers in my hair barefoot and perhaps tripping on some form of hallucinogen...or some PCP if I'm feeling lucky. These songs are inspirations to my dream...









Lady J's Personal Blogggery Promise

Yeah, so I've figured that I should prob update my blog more frequently and live up to my mental monkey clusterfuck testimonial. But before that there's a couple of guidelines...or should I say promises I make to you, the reader.

- This is the shit that enters my mind sporadically and on occasion follows no linear train of thought...well at least to you it won't.

- Don't expect me to update this ish on a daily basis. I WORK! you lazy shhhhmuck...plus like I said it's sporadic, and so are my "blogging moods"...whatever the hell those are.

- If you're entertained...GREAT!!!, if you're offended...stop being a cunt, and if you're inspired... I <3 you for <3'ing me.

- If you like what you see...spread the mo-fo word gawwwdbody!!!!...you know, like the hip hoppers say. "Tell a friend to tell a friend biiiiiitch"

- Oh and while you're wasting your life away on this here spaceship box, check out the otherrrr site I write for :) www.Frank151.com ...after you're done with that go get some fresh air.



Let the random shit storm start it's flooding!!

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Crashing Tides and the Spaceship Gypsy Junkie

Autumn has fallen...



The beauty of death...



And the rebirth of light...



I like to consider myself an Urban Non-Mad Nomad, Gypsy Gone...Right, Administrative Hustla, Life Experience Pack Rat doing my study abroad backpackin' across...NY.

(PEEP THE DUO, it'll make more sense -----> #1 & #2)

But baaaaasically, within a 5 month period I've rested my head in around 19 places, moved 3 times, "resided" in 4 boroughs, 5 cities & 2 countries (U.S. included), had 5 health problems spring up...& progressively heal up, been on 4 different meds, had 10 doctor appointments within 2 months, applied to around 90+ jobs (dead ass...counted the emails), had 17 job interviews, 7 for 1 position in particular, worked 2 temp jobs, 2 side jobs, 2 perm jobs, discovered and been reunited with with 13 family members residing in 5 different cities, lost "friends", gained more than friends and maintained ENOUGH sanity to write about it....EL...OH...LOL.


"Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous. Crazier than a bag of fuckin' Angel Dust..."


Just in case you forgot...


Happy Errffffffday to me...and my Virgo brethren!!! (not my bday cake, sorry, not thaaaat cool)


Lived around these parts for a few months...gettin' my timeshare game on point.


Made a great friend in this charming gent (yes, that would be bird caca).


All Hallow's Eve


I <3>


This song...

this goes out to alllll the lovely gents out there...

Realized this...

Leads to my ideal...this...

NYC is a haven of compassion...


and Bangs doesn't love me as much as I love him (peep his comments)


Cool

The cats from MGMT like my shirt...



SEEEEEEEEE...


The path of living is on some dope skitzo shit
approached and flipped
into a battle of wits
with hidden agenda tricks full of covert operations and tactics
where the transitional final product is the immaculate gift
of the conception of one's

...LIFE

The trife life, basked in nebular limelights
where the enemy can't come to phase you since they're only dwellin' in
the 2nd dimension,
n'
missed the last ride on the express time continuum

bobbin' n' weavin'
bobbbbbin' n' weavin'
bobbin' n' weaaaaavin'

tetanus infected
jagged wrenches
Constantly attacking your voice of reason
and then you could end up like me and...

Smiling and breathing and moving and healing
Keeping the faith and embracing your inner heathen

Collecting the the day in your memory banks
Psalms sung by sparrows and freedom chants

Navigatin' odyssies next door
Comforter sessions on the spaceship floor

Loathing mediocrity whores
Embracing simplicity...and escaping the bored

This is the LIFE...

Next day...

and those to follow...

Blang blang...

One mo' 'gain

Oh yeah, I failed to mention that I went to DR to celebrate Big Baby Jevus with the homie Rich.

Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks...

Please note: my paleness, his Ed Hardy <3,>

and summore...

Tracy Morgan sighting...Dominican Lou is real.

GANGSTA BOO

Mad boats, mad close, no safety regulations...a good time!


Please read the fine print...

Sure, why not.


El Crew and life inspiration.

Johnny <3

Nah...we won't...

Bye bye.

Travel MUZAAAK...

DC babies for the Nu Jear.

On that note...GUBBBBNA!!!


Back to NY...New Year, new job, new crib, writing for THESE CATS , & a good amount of this...



Who knows, maybe I'll write more now that life is finding itself to be more stable these days...or, not. I'll just let the weird life shit keep doing what it does. So far so good.


Oh yeah...I want one.



And with that, remember..."Hey shuddy, you really looking' niiiiice..."


P.S. Today my boy gave me a taser...yay!


- © 2010 by Jessica Freites