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April 12

This marks the first entry of Forward Slash. Made a video called "how i feel" for school. Got news of my first exhibition show acceptance a few days ago, I should be more happy about it! Got news a week or so ago of my denial to a dramatic writing program I applied to in January, I'm sad about it. Over the last month, I've lost my velocity; I've got speed, but no direction. Can't write, not painting much; only trying to figure out where to go. I've lost everything I had to say, but I know how to say things, usually, and how to say them well. We'll see where this goes.

April 19

I miss New York. Cuomo is talking on the TV behind me. I'm glad he has a sense of humor (did you know he can marry you and your partner?). And I'm still in a funk. I'm showing up and getting most things done but as a worker in society reasonably deemed "non-essential" I'm trying to wrap my head around how to make work that is essential (wildly more so than usual) or that shows how essential art can be (also more so than usual). Contagion did go up in rentals, I guess. I hope it was at least mildly cathartic to some. Going to try to make "win-win" art. I win in the process of making it because it's what I enjoy doing; the audience wins because they get something out of it when they see, hear, touch, smell, taste, feel it. We'll know how it went down one of these Sundays.

April 26

Reworked the website yesterday in preparation for the potential of new visitors after my first exhibition opens up in two weeks. I'm doing well. Getting more and more organized around the house under quarantine. Part of me still wishes I was dealing with the pandemic from my New York apartment but I'm glad to be home too. The studio in my parent's garage got a slight makeover; that has helped, made a self-portrait sculpture the night after the day it was rearranged. I wonder now who is/will be reading this "blog." What will they think of me? Another spoiled artist? A good man? He's not worth my time? All is well. I'll keep doing with what is offered and see if I really can leave the world a little better than I found it.

May 3

I was cautiously socializing again today. I'm listening to song a friend suggested, "Letter to Madeline" by Ian Noe, as I write. But I don't think I have much to say. Just thinking a lot.

May 10

A friend is over so I'll be brief. Finished The Master today. Saw the first hour and fifteen months ago. Glad I finished it. All good, all things considered.

May 17

Nothing to write. Sorry?

May 24

Found the song "Daily Battles" by Thom Yorke and Flea off of the Motherless Brooklyn soundtrack today. Will most likely be the highlight of my day. Haven't seen the movie. Maybe I will soon.

May 31

Going to try to do my part for others. Going to try and write.

June 7

So many pennies trying to funnel down into the water jug, so many that not one alone seems to make it through.

June 14

"The more things change, the more they stay the same."

June 21

"Nothing ends–nothing ever ends."

September 20

Apologies–to perhaps no one at all–for my hiatus. Life is good; I'm back in NY, doing school online. Jackson Pollock said something to someone (pretty sure it was him at least) in an interview about losing all his mannerisms over the summer so that by fall he could go back to work and be able to do it better. And hey, I know how problematic he has become among theorists and critics, but that stuck with me nonetheless (and arguably doesn't have any relation to what he is becoming infamous for in those art discourse groups). Moreover when I go back to Texas during the peak heat season I seem to lose whatever is bogging me down, and by the time the cold starts to creep up on me (especially in NY) I am spick and span for whatever comes at me more so than if I had not spent the summer shedding my old skin–which also isn't to say I spent it doing nothing. And I haven't told many this, in fact only a handful have any idea at all, because, like, who cares, but I'm going to pursue psychiatry. I'll always be an "artist" (that word gives me more annoyance–akin to how I imagine someone who gets called an "influencer" feels–by the month) but monetizing my creativity is just not how I like to work and definitely not how I want to make a living for the rest of my days. There was a guy in Texas who taught my mom at some point and even hosted Hemingway briefly while he was getting treated at Mayo clinic, who was an artist and psychiatrist. Evidently he even went to Italy to pick out marble for his sculptures, and he had the financial means to, which, I have no intention of being that traditionally posh but I'd like to be able to if I want to further down the line. My parents did a good job fighting for a stable life, I got to follow their lead for my children's sake. If 2020 has taught us anything, it's that the old boy scout motto isn't so corny after all–but I am glad they went bankrupt. Prejudice is a shovel that can only dig you straight to hell. Ta-ta for now.

September 27 (though technically written on the 28th at 1:54 AM)

A friend of mine said I text like a robot sometimes. Another someone told me I can be very dry over text and was shocked how I talked when we spoke on the phone for the first time. Coincidentally, I've been designing an artwork for the past 24-36 hours that could, provided that the person is skilled in doublespeak, prove them right. Though I'm no machine obviously; I conclude I've just been attempting to fix myself up since I was rather young, as if I were a broken machine, so as to simplify the work that is in fact healing a living organism's consciousness, not to mention my own (though I have, fortunately, had some help). I told them both in response then that I thought that would be the case because I am an avid writer, and texting has the same input as writing prose, poetry, essays (you name it) and I think I am not very good at switching to a social output as opposed to a pragmatic, essayistic, metaphoric, and/or poetic output. Admittedly, I am working on it and the artwork, if anything, juxtaposes their observations eloquently. I may have laid myself out like a computer in the piece to better understand myself but in the process seem to have shown myself and one other–so far–that I am a human with a makeup far too intriguing to be a robot; at least by today's standards. Going to keep it close like a chain around my neck though, so if you're reading this, odds are you'll never see it. Sorry not sorry and see y'all next week!

October 4th

Whew. What a week! Anonymous readers, somehow, amidst all my delicate, cautionary efforts I got the infamous COVID-19 not this past Wednesday but the Wednesday before that (thinks the nurses working with NYU). I have been asymptomatic the whole time despite a minor coincidence of symptoms that made me wonder after having Chipotle (TMI?). I will, hopefully, get the call sometime tomorrow to learn how to be able to go back out into the city, for I will have done my time in isolation with no symptoms by then. And it's been just fine. I wasn't fine at times, but it was just fine. I got a good poem out of my sorrows, and (for still lack of a better explanation) got bit in the ass by Forrest Gump himself early this morning and ran 10 miles back and forth within the confines of my apartment–or so my GPS tells me (they say on the internet the Nike Run Club app is 100% accurate most of the time...and it was wonderful! Truly. Felt like afterwards I was a little less cursed. And speaking of cursed, I've been watching the Paramount show "Yellowstone." Watching it feels like home, philosophically, at times. Many of the same things that make or break those men in that show; made or broke me too (as cheesy as it feels to write? –though I know it's not cheesy stuff at all, I suppose that's what the city has done to me ;) I think I'll leave this week with this quote from an ole timer in the show:

"GREENHORN"Oh, fuck!
"OLE TIMER"You need to see a doctor?*pause*It's the shame that hurtsthe most, you know?But shame, it's in the mind.*pause*You can turn that faucet offwhenever you want to.*pause*Rough business becoming a man, ain't it?Beats the alternative, though.Come on, let's go to work.

P.S. Sorry if I botched how this scene goes down a little, Paramount.

October 11th

Almost took down this whole website (I'm tired of the art world, of art professors, of selfies, of app stories, of witnessing self-promotion and thinking I need to do a better job of it myself, of seeing people I love get sucked into the vat of "trying to make it," of galleries and their pretentious milieu, the markets, the advertisements; tired of it all). But I didn't, not yet. Won't do me any good while I still have to show up for art school. But I look forward to it, and look forward to the day I get to erase it to the best of my ability from the web, because that day too will be the day I'm doing anything else successfully enough to wash it all off and live like I know people still can, like I know I need to, want to, will.

October 18th

Nothing to say tonight. Here is my excuse: "the more you know, the quieter you get."

October 25th

I'm so tired (I'm saying it in my head like Paul McCartney) but things are looking up! Gonna learn some new things, learn a new medium from the BASIC (hint-hint) level. Saw an exhibition at MoMA PS1 today, it was great. I'm so tired (I'm saying it like Paul still). Gonna eat and get some rest. Tomorrow, I continue to try to get in better shape, or sleep in 'till class again. But I'm working at it! Getting better at it all day by day. One day perhaps not just I will know that is true. Add biographies of Da Vinci and Ada Lovelace to the reading list.

November 1st

Been listening to this one song a lot this week, it's called "All My Fires" by Adam Townsend. Here are the lyrics:

I can't put my finger on it, it's hard to say

The more I think about it, it's better this way

If I said what I should, would it ease your misery?

Sometimes it's just hard to say I'm sorry

Oh my my, I'm starting to

Feel remorse for those things that I do

All my fires start this way and

I'm a liar most everyday

And I conspire, and accept the blame and

I, I retire amidst the flame

Oh the longer that this sits unsaid, the bigger it grows and

The harder that this becomes to swallow

If I'd done what I should, would I be here all alone?

Sometimes it's just hard to say I was wrong

Oh my my, I'm starting to

Feel remorse for those things that I do

All my fires start this way and

I'm a liar most everyday

And I conspire, and accept the blame and

I, I retire amidst the flame

Oh my my, I'm starting to.

Feel remorse for those things that I do

I've just sat by, now I've got to try

To swallow my pride, ohhhhh

All my fires start this way and

I'm a liar most everyday

And I conspire, and accept the blame and

I, I retire amidst the flame

November 8

Happy birthday.

November 15 (but written the morning of the 16th)

Have a headache. Father is on the line, speaker phone is on, can likely here my keyboard click away as I write. We haven't talked in maybe weeks, which hasn't happened in years. I feel a bit queasy. Looking forward to the first snow of the season whenever it decides to fall.

November 22

Shot My Camera Was Depressed today. I hope the humor in it shines through; was fun to conceptualize regardless. But I have to shoot something even more 'important' if you will by Tuesday evening. (Personifying my D800 isn't gonna cut it for that assignment.) And here's the rub: when I took a much needed but albeit unapproved break a few weeks ago, when I came back to the keyboard, I flew. The words, left in my mind's oven much longer, would've burned and been unreadable, but instead they tasted–at least to me and those who've read the piece so far–wonderfully! Probably the best thing I've ever written in some aspects come to think of it; though Carl Phillips will in some ways be the judge of that when I submit it for a contest soon. That said though, school wants me to make art-food too quickly for my taste sometimes (okay, all the time!). And I'm not saying it doesn't make for good practice–and sometimes it's responsible for some of the first sparks of a work–but that's just it, all you end up (at least to me) is being able to practice. And the work that has gotten me shows or published or admired wasn't made under the motif of "let's try to make something in a week." And now I'm reminded of writers, "revise, revise, revise!" they say, flaunting their marked to hell stack of drafts. Suppose all this talk could be boiled down to the age old dilemma: school real world. Anyways, if anyone sees this before Tuesday afternoon, wish me luck!

November 29


December 7th

Deferring to TikTok this week, citation here.

December 14th

I am plainly warn out as I type. Applied for a job on a whim last night. Haven't heard back from the poetry contest people. Been writing for hours and then revising drafts of poems on top of that work; my left thumb just had a panic attack, calling it there. I wonder where I'll be Christmas Eve this year…

December 20th (written on the 21st)

All is well.

December 27th (written on the afternoon of the 29th)

I'm late! Been babysitting a kitten. Had the best Christmas morning of my life. Got champagne for New Years today. It's getting cold again. I hear the music and everything is alright. Best wishes to anyone out there who sees this.


January 3rd

A new year. Kept reading Dune today. Enjoyed.

January 10th

Nothing to say.

January 17th (written on the 19th)

Still have a quiet mind.

January 24th

Been watching Ted Lasso after ol' Barry Jenkins tweeted about it. The "be curious" monologue got me. And their damn use of the song "Strange." I'm not crying you're crying. And happy Sunday.

February 7th (written around noon on the 8th)

"And the river keeps on flowing."

February 14th (written on the morning of the 20th)

Lost track of time! That Sunday was quiet. All is well in my new home.

February 21st

Hard to find a place to get quarters these days!

February 28th

Spinning plates between pool cues: balancing too many things–subtly hoping it drowns out the holes in me that seem to keep letting minutes slip through them. It's 12:26 AM now. Almost slid it in by Sunday. And I think about writing more, pouring out letters at this moment, but they need to head elsewhere.

March 7th (written in the middle of the night on the 9th)

Yikes! What a mess everything seems to be. My heart is heavy and now as I try to explain it I think of Inside Llewyn Davis. That's how it feels. That's how it always feels. Fare thee well 'till next Sunday.

March 14th (written in the early morning of the 18th)

If I imagine myself outside of my mind looking at myself listening to this song I've found since I last wrote and fell a bit in love with, it sounds so...me when I was fifteen...or just rather mopey. But then I think that a lot of the problems I'm dealing with now are due to not having the time then to heal from–let's say–emotional injuries. Maybe, dear readers, you are aware of how when you are trying to get stronger physically you do not want to push yourself too hard in some sense. The silver lining is in finding the good hurt, and pushing along, yet stopping when the muscles are tearing in a negative way that doesn't net a positive. Well, I think I've been pushing through the 'emotional muscles' tearing for years, and I'm beginning to feel the price of not taking time to properly heal. So now in the middle of many responsibilities flying around me, as opposed to just a few at the time of the injuries, I've got to try to heal. And then I think the song doesn't sound mopey or like a younger me would bask in it (though I bet he would) it sounds apt. Apt as hell. Anyways, here are the lyrics:

Hayd – Changes

[Verse 1]

I've been going through the motions

Learning how to pretend

That everything is perfect

And I've been sinking in an ocean

Drowning but I'm silent

Yet everyone thinks I'm afloat


I'm running through mazes, mazes

Maybe it's just a phase but regardless

I'm flipping the pages, pages


I'm going through changes

But I swear I'm the same

Could you show me some patience

Along the way?

I'm going through changes

But I swear I'm the same

Could you show me some mercy

If I start to stray?

[Verse 2]

I've been chasing aftеr feelings

Most of which are fleeting

I still feel empty

And I've been trying hard to fit in

But how comе I'm so different

From everyone I see?


I'm running through mazes, mazes

Maybe it's just a phase but regardless

I'm flipping the pages, pages


I'm going through changes

But I swear I'm the same

Could you show me some patience

Along the way?

I'm going through changes

But I swear I'm the same

Could you show me some mercy

If I start to stray?


Trying to fight the seasons

Trying to find my meaning

Maybe there's a reason

Why I'm going through these changes

P.S. AKIRASDAD's Miss The Rage also sounds apt lately, which reminds me of a quote I heard in the TV adaptation of American Gods recently; paraphrased it goes something like, "love and hate may be two sides of the same coin, but only so they may never meet." 'Till next week.

March 21st (written on the 24th)

March 28th (written 4/2)

Don't know what I was up to last Sunday evening. And I've sat here for five minutes or so now and it feels like nothing is seeming to want to get typed this evening so I think I'll call it for now.

April 4th (written 4/13)

Nope. That's what I might've said.

April 11th (written 4/13)

At least MTV's Downtown made me smile.

April 18th

A new chapter continues–one way or another–this evening.

April 25th

Today was hard, emotionally. I'm reminded of Casey's brother, Van, and his video I saw about men's tears sometime this week. "Men cry in private, but that doesn't mean they only cry in private." Or something like that. It feels as though many doors are finally closing. The ones that are open now, or at least now unlocked, are showing light through their cracks–something I've needed for some time. In other news, I found the adoption papers of a 'pet' I lost a few years ago yesterday, and his birthday was this month. I've had to cry for him again and properly grieve now that I am beginning to feel like myself in new welcomed ways. And I needed to let out some hard tears for the unnamed, now long gone fiddler who first played the tune that became "Danny Boy" too. If I had to sum it all up: relief. So much relief. Looking forward to this week too. Got a great job, and the training will be enjoyable hard work. I can't wait. To whoever is reading, I know a few of you; I'm sending best wishes from Manhattan. Namaste!

May 2nd (written in the late night of the 3rd)

When I got home tonight, I found a pile of gifts. One of them was a t-shirt from my Pop. It had an abstract piano player on it. Whimsical line but wanted to be taken seriously too. Attached was a story I wrote in high school and mended last year for an application. It made me cry–though I only managed to briefly. The rain came down on me more, aptly so, as I left behind many great people who were in town this weekend that will take a steel bird in the morning back south. Turns out a Malbec and the beer from McSorley's don't mix poorly either (light or dark). My godbrother has a hard copy of Dune to send too; I imagine it will arrive just as I finish Miranda July's No One Belongs Here More Than You too, which was especially wonderful when I read as I laid on a lawn at Battery Park this weekend. I made another banger Spotify playlist today as well (*cough* "jacobt28" *cough*). Ta-ta 'till next week sometime, Universe.

May 9th

I'm a bit early today with my writing. Felt up to it earlier than usual, or maybe I just needed to write. It is drizzling in the city this afternoon. One trade-off of living in these parts is we rarely get to hear a strong and teeming thunderstorm. I have witnessed it since I moved, but maybe only once or twice was I in the right place at the right time to hear thunder cackle and lightning ignite the gray. But if I remember right, the times I have experienced those storms were in the summertime, so maybe we are due for something I would love along the way. Last night I rediscovered a song. It greeted me again this morning, Je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson. Now it's on a repeat-one as I try to glide through this Sunday. Got the Dune book; it continues to impress and make the in-betweens at work beautiful all in their own. And a message was left in my voicemail late last night that I listened to this morning from an old friend. He said many nice things about me. I realize now I haven't heard that sort of thing in a long time–at least not from a heart place. Be well, to whom it may concern.

May 16th (written on the 17th)

"The spice must flow!"

Sunday, May 23

"Just thinking of you, hope all is well. It's a soggy day around here, just slow, steady rain. Sending love." Diddo! :D (I think it's going to rain in The City sometime this week–which I hope for adamantly.)

Sunday, May 30

Felt sick, thought I might have had a fever. Nice Sunday however, all things considered.

Sunday, June 6th

Feeling as healthy as ever. I'm eating good, trying to work out more. Still not making art. The dog walking job is wonderful though!

Sunday, June 13th (written on the 18th around midnight)

What a mess of a life I've lived–a beautiful mess, don't get me wrong, but a mess of one so far if you ask me. Learned so much so fast I forgot how smart I am. Forget how sad I've been in specific times so much that I forget how to sail through the 'easy' blues. Have so much to say on just another Thursday night, and yet I'm just gonna let it all go down the drain of my mind for another time. This is supposed to be a light and short journal for everyone, not what I feel like it's become. So there! I'm done leaking for this week. Hope any readers of recent or future are doing okay. Going to work on Studio Zero more in time; hopefully, get the legal work covered before June is up. Happy trails!

Sunday, June 20th

Did I have a weekend? Yes. Did it feel like I had a weekend? No.

Sunday, June 27th (written on 6/29)

Had a wonderful weekend this time around! Still no legal progress with Studio Zero, but I'm working on it!

Sunday, July 4th

Doin' well. No progress on Studio Zero legal stuff though!

Sunday, July 11th (written on Monday afternoon)

Super tired this week. Don't have much to report.

Sunday, July 18th

Had a good thunderstorm earlier this week, as well as some much-appreciated rain. Feeling blue, healthy, but blue. And working on too many things at once!

Sunday, July 25th

Going back to Texas this Wednesday. Bringing back my kiddos. Looking forward to it! And–the weather was lovely today.

Sunday, August 1st (written on the night of August 3rd)

I'm in Waco. Saw a good friend last night. The dog and the cat are OK. Looking forward to hitting the road.

Sunday, August 8th (written at night on August 11th)

It's been…a rather awful week. Leaving Waco in five days and I'm worried about Molly, but we'll be okay.

Sunday, August 15th

Bad day. Surprise, surprise. Change of plans too.

Sunday, August 22nd (written morning of 23)

Leaving in a few hours. Home by tonight.

Sunday, August 29th (written around 1 am on the 6th of September)

Looking for jobs in the city and have been trying to relax more in my spare time!

Sunday, September 5th (written around 1 am on the 6th of September)

Found a couple of potential jobs that could work; interviews, and more applications coming up this week. Fall feels like it's coming on lately–though I wish it would rain more.

Sunday, September 12th

Feeling okay...finished a piece of writing this week, it's on the 'Index' tab if anyone wants to read it. I'm not too happy with it but it felt like I needed to write something and let it go. Hope any readers of this are doing ok despite the ongoing pandemic. Been staying inside myself and have been trying to be more healthy.

Sunday, September 19th

Got a day job. Orientation starts Friday. Feeling alright, all things considered.

Sunday, September 26th

Exhausted! I have been choosing to take care of myself this week though–more so than in the past–and that is bringing me more joy. Cheers.

Sunday, October 3rd

Okay week. I still find myself rather tired often. Looking forward to more rest until I'm back in school come January.

Sunday, October 10th (written on the 17th)

My energy was low this week from what I remember and have noted from then. Eating three meals a day as opposed my usual fasting until dinner has helped balance me out a bit when I do it. Still learning about various things at a good speed. Working on my hopes and dreams mostly as I get ready to go back to school.

Sunday, October 17th

Watched three movies in a row yesterday. And started writing another novel sometime this past week. I think it will be dark and creepy but also full of mazes with lots of sunshine. It's centered around a big family of characters though and I haven't felt up to mapping all their relationships out yet so...it's on pause for now. Can't wait to carve a pumpkin for Halloween. Any costume ideas? (Cheap ones.)

Sunday, October 27th


Sunday, October 31st

Happy Halloween to anyone who sees this!

Sunday, November 7th

Watching the new Yellowstone premiere, then on to watch the new Succession episode. Being healthy still. Enjoying the encroaching winter in New York City.

Sunday, November 14th

Tired. Missing people I can't see. Don't want to visit family. No one understands me. I begin to wonder if anyone ever will as I need.

Sunday, November 21st (written on noon of the 23rd)

Rough day turned to the beginning of a rough week. Could be worse I suppose.

Sunday, November 29th (written on the Monday after)

What a week! You all won't believe it...well, you'll believe it! But...

Sunday, December 5th

Parents came in on Friday! Out of the blue! It rocked!

Sunday, December 12th


Sunday, December 19th

Early Christmas this year.

Sunday, December 26th (written early on the 27th)

Good week.


Sunday, January 2nd (written on January 17th)

Out of town.

Sunday, January 9th (written on January 17th)

Out of town.

Sunday, January 16th (written on January 17th)

Back home.

Sunday, January 23rd

One step at a time kind of week, one day at a time kind of life.

Sunday, January 30th

When I'm listening to music now, it's just the score of The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I think that sums it up.

Sunday, February 6th

Mathematically my mood did not change this week. Listening to different music now, however.

Sunday, February 13th (written on the 18th)

The weather here is shifting all over the place. And I'm having a hard time.

Sunday, February 20th

Like the poem on the steps back home says, "days are years," but now they feel so everywhere and not just in that room.

Sunday, February 28th

I often find myself watching the lights on the back of my modem and router. I got rid of my beard today. The first person to select 'maybe' showed in the finder's questionnaire on this page. The rest previous have been 'yes' and I like that this new response coincided with where I am now in life. I'm not sure I'm glad I've written all these entries because I'm not sure I like who I sound having written them. I can't find inspiration, or rather, don't know what I want to say for my art classes. I'm keeping up with my life, but realize more and more each day that I have to act like myself, my true self. Be myself. Consume as myself. Speak as myself. People in my past and present life have helped me to not see who that is over the years because I've let them help me be, almost naturally, someone who is not me, but who looks like me and has my voice. It was a simple act originally as a teen and one meant to help my true self but it has since become who others see, not a little act of defense so I could hide when I once thought I needed to. So the past few weeks I've begun to clean my mental space and plan out my future physical spaces to live and display myself as who I am and not who I let myself be for others because I found it easier to hide and be messy. Evaluate more sharply to define over the next few years who I am to myself and others more clearly. I hope to leave the mess so I can see more clearly the growth and I am not in denial of what I've done. However, I also find it tempting to bleach things instead. More accuracy and precision of character are needed regardless. And it's a lot of housekeeping and it might take a lot of time to do or bring myself to do. But I've started.

Sunday, March 6th

I guess I thought being an artist would be cleaner.

Sunday, March 13th


Sunday, March 20th


Sunday, March 27th


Sunday, April 3rd


Sunday, April 10th

Neglect and perseverance come to mind.

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