Hello, Lovine.com

there's this vegan stunt lady named spice, at the house of champions who explained to me why her family doesn't eat meat nor consume any type of dairy products. after skimming the usual processed foods story, she goes on to organic detail about pus on cow's tits and antibodies designed for baby calves that will eventually concoct havoc on your pancreas. at the rate she was going, we might as well grow udders and rot from mad cow disease.

gosh, and i thought it was bad enough farting noxious fumes after a glass of good ole vitamin d milk. i brew a mighty concoction, i must say. but having to worry about viral proteins chimmying down my immune system? forget it. as my dad king benny would declare: "i eat to live, and i live to eat."

not eating meat is one thing. but to desensitize all foods into a scare of chemical slews that would bestow cancer upon thee, is another. i'm allergic to shrimp, but i'd happily consume copious amounts because i know i'll die anyway. might as well go down a happy man. whatever floats your sushi boat, brah.

oh, and check this out. fo shizzle.

pictures from saturday night's shenanigans are here. i came back from a long yet awesome possum training session out at stone cold philly, straight to the club. not too shabby. aside from the snafu of losing luggage for a few hours, and the pain of getting up with a hangover to iron your shirts for the morning session, it can't be all so bad when you've met tons of wonderful people while thousands of miles far far away from home. and never being too tired to spend time with old and new friends alike. :) cheers!

condolences, brother. your pain is always mine. i share in the ups and downs, and my prayers are with you and your family. god bless.

stuck exactly 2,814.6 miles away from home, in a different time zone. away from the warm los angeles sunshine, holding nothing but the company issued laptop and the clothes on my back.

tomorrow is the first day of training here in philly. two hours ago, my baggage didn't show up at the airport. fun times!

so they're supposed to deliver my baggage between 12 and 4am later, but murphy's law tells me something that i don't want to mention which might jinx me. what worried me walking out of the airport holding nothing, was the fact that i wasn't so worried. it's a weird feeling.

let me put you in the picture, let me show you what i mean..
the messiah is my sister, ain't no king man she's my queen..

i have a dream, i’ve seen the light
don’t put it out, say she’s alright, yeah, she’s my sister..

:)

the weekend sure does creep up on you. and in the bat of her eyelash, it's over. but the next one is fast a-coming even before the last one ended.

instead of numbing yourself to the routine burdens of responsibility, there must be something or some way that will keep on pushing me to do more, and break through the ices of complacency.

girafa reminded me today what it takes. you can only grow when you push yourself harder, just when you already want to quit. and that short painful distance is worth more than all the comforts of your security blankets. and i might be digressing - you can always put up your walls and declare your space, but all it does is make you softer and more vulnerable when you venture out. and eventually, we all have to. everyday. inside the burdens of our responsibilities, and out.

i spent the past two weekends afloat in the company of gorgeous women, and a slew of random events that leave me cavorting down the rabbit hole. if it sounds like fun, i'm up for it in a heartbeat!

in keeping with the tradition of reckless spontaneity, i was out in melrose this afternoon to met up with this guy named jerry garcia and director cullin tobin. something's brewing, and it smells like the speaks. i'm totally stoked. perhaps it would make more sense in a few weeks when i eventually write about what happened in that dirty alleyway. the cops sprung up on us too. but i'm not spilling. :) what a weekend! banzered!

why do i have the sinking feeling that i'm not the type of the girls i eternally crush? gosh.

if you're a hot chick, and want to rid yourself of size 1 1/2, or waistline 26 slacks.. i am gladly accepting donations for the lovine's fine ass foundation. in exchange, you'll receive the first series of my postcards. good stuff! more details later. :)

how do you feel about reading something that's not really there? you can stretch the lines so far apart that you can begin to deconstruct realities and extrapolate your own. basically, you can believe in whatever truths you want to believe in. its just that the key presumption of 'truth' will be subject to debate. closing your eyes for a second makes you remember that the lines are still there, fragile yet real. but yet you choose to look through them, in between them, outside of them. can you believe in something so much, that eventually, it overcomes the shadow of all doubts and begins to stand on its own? and then you can conveniently throw all the obvious out the window. it's more exciting that way, don't you think?

i write, not because i want people to read. i write, not because i want people to understand. i have no messages for anyone, and i write for no other reason than to satisfy a deeper understanding of the lines that criss-cross into a flurry of intangibles inside the pit of my stomach. everyone is always welcome to join the party, but remember..

caveat emptor... buyer beware.

just for you, i can die a thousand deaths, and still be alive.. just so i can die a thousand deaths all over again.

finally! it's the weekend! there are so many things i want to do, in fact, too many things that it just ends up overwhelming me and i sit here befuddled. pffft.

a few weeks ago i boarded a train and took a lot of pictures. took me a while to get them up and running, but here are a few. let's board the space seattle!

in my head scatter long silent nights where nothing exists aside from your company, listening to the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat against the cavity of my chest. in that moment, the beats might as well have been my own. time will stand still while the old vinyl record spins carelessly in a round dance. scratch... hiss... pop.