view. in those jeans.

Namaste international tribe of cult and other lovers

I have been having so much fun writing in a zillion styles over the past days. Aliases everywhere.

So far Sunday’s been spent writing sexy stories to Ginuwine. The particularly spectacular thing about all of this is that I haven’t had to leave bed to do so.

I re-arranged my house again. Not only can I stare at the east river anytime I like from the comfort of my queen size mattress, I can happily click iMac keys.

When you live in a studio, the enjoyment such basic pleasures provide is indescribable. As a Writer, sitting Indian style 18 stories up about a foot away from a guard-less drop staring at the Queens Bridge inside a New York City summer breeze is… yeah. Just that.


When I kicked this off in 2009, I never even imagined.

I was speaking with my very good mate Nathan Wills earlier about the number of creatures around inhaling life and exhaling something lighter. Something peaceful. I am ecstatic to be part of this and I wish the same for everyone. With the amount of insanity spilling around the planet, I uniquely worship moments where my memory is the most clear.

I try to remember that all I can do on Earth is be a decent person, regardless of an occasional lashing or over-heaped serving of life. Love spreading must carry on. Like words, for example. And Ginuwine. I’m about him today…

tell me is there any more room…

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