The other half of the duo. The uninteresting one. The one who’s shy and awkward, but likes to play drums. The noisier the better. That’s my only talent. 😔 Noise.

My writing journey began in the late 90s at the infancy of internet and blogs. Back then we had paper and physical journals. Cursive writing was still a thing. As my mind kept on (and still does) shuffling between non-stop altering thoughts, voices, and ideas, I had to stash all that chaos somewhere, otherwise I would go crazy. Paper was a reasonable choice to regain some peace, quiet, and structure. What is there to expect from these pages? Something of personal, abstract, non-linear, and ordinary. A work in progress of digitizing my scribbles, entries, and tales.

• WIP •
(Work In Progress – Fiction)

story teller and his senseless bits
story teller: bazaar of the bizarre
story teller: midnight haze


lovers’ tiff: a ballad
the reservoir
note to self
jacob journal (real time with jacob)
poetry (words)
words worth less than a dime plus a nickel

eyes: DEEP BLUE – hair: DARK BROWN – height: 177 cm

art back view black and white dark

i regard this life as a nonchalant passing of bits so bluntly equipped to be a stride, a vast and epic achievement when collected into a total sum. it isn’t always a volcanic eruption of events. at times, it’s consecutively simple and un-inventive.
—  my arbitrary thought (jacob)