I remember..

everything..summer bike rides. Pabst beer. long Pocahontas hair. resin bowls. bustin flows. singing along to red hot chili peppers. sketching our crew names. spray painting the nights away. Boyle Heights. hitting gravity bongs under 562 trees. backyard kickbacks. dramafuckingrama. down to pound. rolling blunts. making smoke circles. meeting sketchy fools. Bernie's weed delivery service. summer love. laughing our lives away. metro park. getting away with most everything. knowing when shit wasn't right.

getting pissed drunk. riding those damn scooters. hitching rides with boys. train tracks & Raspberry Smirnoff Ice. crying over bullshit. getting fucked over. not giving a fuck about anything. acting biligerant. hot boxing anything and everything. smoking out chocolate. zig zags. lighters. apples. foil. coke bottles. buckets of water. homemade gravity bongs. pens markers and paper. munchies. making weird concoctions of food. talking about the day the world will end. singing 'the great gig in the sky'. rasta fools.

Bob melodies. bone cancer. rasta beanies and bracelettes. uncertainty. shifting in and out of reality. 211's. smashing cameras. painting NARS. trippin balls. drawing trippy shit. realizing realms of perception crash into one another. realizing we are insignificant atoms. one love. three little birds. times at the hospital. Mr. Bob. questioning and reasoing. making up shit. making funny voices. talking shit. high and dry. down and out.

Venice Beach. being a pussy. meeting fine rasta fools. stealing shit. driving high as a kite on the 605. close to dying. taco bell. driving. driving and then some more driving. bike tracks relax "hey kid walk straight master your high". crashing into bushes. hearing voices. paraoia will destroy ya. "you fucking freak now keep yo days out ma week". hearing your stories. telling mine. catching up with you. moving to fucking Nebraska.

cancer spreading. three little birds. you were never afraid..of dying. you proved alot to everyone that knew you. mostly to yourself. always down. head high. "the lower you fall the higher you'll fly". never taking shit from anyone. i can still hear you laughing. "draaaaaamatic!" right? i miss you so much. i know you took a lot of shit. a lot of fucking bullshit you shouldn't of had to deal with. i wish it didn't have to be this way. so soon. so young. "how i wish, how i wish you were here. we're just two lost souls swiming in a fish bowl year after year". fucking miss you man. rest in peace my good friend. Peace in da middle east! :)


"To start life in positive way, got everything i need! No need to ask for much from anyone. Im as happy as can be! To move on in life expecting the unexpected is the way to live. To get up and go anywhere, and just being able to smile look back and laugh, and say ...Shit What a Trip..... hahahahahaha life is! :) ....NARS♥"

Hi, How are you?

I went to L.A. for the weekend and got to see Daniel Johnston play at the Henry Fonda, very small venue, it wasn't what I expected. Nevertheless, it has it's potential for radiating some form of sound through the young ears of our generation. I walk in with my cousin Roxy, who introduced me to D.J., only to see that quite a few young folks were wearing the famous "Hi, How are you?" white tee, which I regret not purchasing. We're so excited to hear some good music. Curtains rise, hearts pulsing, audience cheering, drinking, and some band opens up for him, I don't remember the name (go figure), anyways they sucked! Like baaaaad, despite being open to most music and their vast array of art forms, I couldn't find an ounce of enjoyment or satisfaction for their music. I think it was the "Ooooo sha lalas" that did it for me, fucking bullshit. HAHA. And Daniel only played like 3 old songs, the rest were with sung along with that infamous band, "the Ooooo sha lala's", yeah that one!

I think the highlight of the night was when this guy wearing a KORN t-shirt ate shit after being in a obvious drunken state; wobbling side to side, eyes dozed to the maxipad, trying to act all non-shallont. Within this time frame of trying to enjoy the show with inebriated fuck ups getting in your face, the show was over.. Roxy and I looked at each other, "It can't be over!" WHAT!?? "No Devil Town, no Casper the Friendly Ghost, no Walking the cow, no nothing!" We left disappointed, ironically with inspiration that sunk into my skin.

Daniel Johnston suffered from Manic Depression, which is the aftermath for such effortless self expression, via drawings and music. Thats what I love about music and art and all forms of self expression, the pieces are about YOU and no one else. Private and exposed thoughts lingering in the air, evoking minds to reciprocate. Art enables an invitation to our minds, to expose our thoughts in a way for others to understand.."See I had this tiny crack in my head that slowly split open and my brain snoozed out, lyin' on the sidewalk and I didn't even know it. I had lost my mind." -I had lost my mind

It didn't take much for me to appreaciate this effortless, amature, childlike noise that Daniel Johnston mindlessly composed. Walking the cow, man, such a reassuring song that music doesn't have to be "good" but simply a token of self graditude. Making music and drawing was his way of relieving his emotional distress and obsession; enabling the spawn of creativity while simultaneously providing his audience with life enhancing music.