these b my confessions.

you know what I just realized?

that if you write something that you’d rather at least one person not see. you probably shouldn’t put it on the internet. and so today, I decided to just write this instead of the list I had planned.

I can still make some confessions though.

I rush. And because I rush, I make rookie mistakes. The great thing about a rookie mistake, is you get to make one, once.

when I can do the crow pose I will die happy.
that’s a real confession. I can’t get that shit yet.

I take things off the street in my neighborhood. Its safe to assume they are free. So far I’ve collected a Nat Geo map of the world, a large piece of cardboard I have yet to design something on, and a chair for sitting at my leisure on.

its been a pretty wonderful sunday my friends.

I kind of like Drake.
that is another confession.

I love Lana del Rey, and I am not ashamed of it.

Also, I think Ayn Rand’s philosophy is an interesting model to base a personal life on. NOT in politics and definitely not through corporations. Paul Ryan, I never thought you were a legitimate idiot until you started talking about Atlas fucking Shrugging, He is shrugging the fuck at you. For the love of Rearden people, for the love of Holy Rearden Metal people, please stop. Can I get a John Galt?

LOL @ you dumbs. I just watched two double feature documentaries on my boy Netflix.

“Park Avenue – Money, Power, Politics”

and then

“Citizen Koch”

watch them please, if you give any shits about the dignity of business and dignity of america.

and then Pay Attention and Vote.

Speak Up, you can vote with a lot more than a ballot.

Vote with your dollar, vote with resistance, vote with action, vote with your mind, vote with your time. If you think the ballot doesn’t listen to your voice, what will? What voice? What is it that you feel isn’t being heard? How else can you conquer that? Do you need to speak louder? Change the conversation?

Think About It.

this turned out to be better than I thought it would.

Also, confession: I watched your stupid Atlas Shrugged movie in two parts. It was the worst fucking artistic interpretation of Rand’s vision I have ever seen. I’m glad part three has got no funding. I bite my fucking thumb at it sir. It sucked.

one last confession,
I love and hate the internet, both equally.

both. equally.

probably taking off for a little while, or a big while. not really sure.






thank you.

one hundred followers. yay


it means a lot to me. honestly. I know the whole point of this internet facade is to be detached and removed from warm fuzzy feelings. but I have them I promise, and right now they’re a warm light pink hue.

one hundred followers might not seem a lot to big wordpress vets out there pulling in 5389 comments on a post about wheat; but I’m running a blog with the man power of one and its based loosely off weed. Stories of a stoner girl really isn’t something I’m sticking on my resume just yet. I’ve been fired from two pretty important jobs in my life. Either I need to get my shit together or the gods are telling me to keep going with my gut and become an entrepreneur.

I’m currently building a post-production and distribution team. I might enlist my city slicker super awesome cousin to help me. But I’m kind of scared I’m too low budget for her. Definitely can’t afford her services for like…  even a day, but we’re family, and I think she likes me pretty well and I know she likes film, she has good taste and has worked for super marketing firms in manhattan. real city, real sick.

The biggest hurdles for me are 1) asking for help, because 2) being confident.


3) writing a business model with numbers, percentages, projected outcomes and business valuation.

I had a team once- aka a Rocco, on production who was my arm and leg. I miss him. He is so cool. But he’s busy being an actual professional in his field of cinematography, and I’m just being an artist running a company. I need another arm and leg so we can start running folks. Because the irony in that former sentence ladies & gents was “artist running a company.” wut. like who is me?


we have TWO images today because this is a celebration of LIFE!!!!!

haha, enough cats. I’m going to ruin this. I’m going to ruin your minds.


click that shit. to see what I did there.

If you have a Facebook, and you like to follow pages. We have a The Common Alligator page. It really won’t blow your feed up, promise I run that and I try to keep it low key. When we have clips and fun stuff, you’ll definitely want to see it. If at least half of you good souls like us, we’ll reach 200 likes, and then another space cat celebration, yay.


this mother fucking space cat will take you there, one more click to like us plz, and one more step closer to transcendental happiness.

space cats

I love you all



city of sin

won’t stop until its over.


won’t stop until you surrender.

Good thing I ate well while I had the chance.

My fridge is full of leftovers from my extended family. I’ve probably purchased my last bottle of sparkling mineral water for a long while ladies and gentlemen. But the payoff is, I don’t have to be a waitress anymore. I don’t have to be somebody that smiles while men make jokes about their big cocks and ask for hand jobs. But don’t worry. “They’re only kidding.” “It was just a joke.”

yeah? you’re 100% fucking right. it was just a joke.

BUT, good has come from it. My asian friend aka- tequila mockingbird, aka, kerli kerlz, aka the latest muse in my life – has decided to hand over permission to me to writer her unofficial memoir. Its turning out to be more of a fictional story threaded pretty deeply with actual anecdotes of working in a restaurant and living like a maniac. Think Anthony Bourdain but tequila and unrequited love instead of heroin and culinary talent.

Too Fat to Live Too Fat to Die

story bout dat kerli kerlz.

Its true, there’s something mysterious and fascinating about the restaurant industry, its got a grunge glamour to it and its something that nobody understands until you’re knee deep in the weeds with table 27 waving you down for an extra napkin because their kid just spilled their shirley temple no ice all over themselves.

Its more than just customers, its about the workers themselves. The ravenous renegades dealt a hand that lead them there. Because nobody really chooses to be a server, and nobody really wants to stay, but somehow nobody ever leaves.

To be honest, I might not have left if I hadn’t been fired. My super kick ass fire spinner best friend of incredible coolness proportions put it best. I got comfortable with the money. It was easy, for the most part. You’re usually just fucked up and work though the bullshit numbed until you hit the bar and continue the up fuckery. I got comfortable where I was. My bills were paid, I had a gold watch, a nice apartment, food in the fridge.

2 out of 4 aint bad though. I still have that watch, the apartment, the bills we will see about and the food. Well, hell. I said it already. Good thing I ate well while I had the chance.

Starving artist life?

Bring it.
I’ve been waiting for you to take me

Because I don’t think I could have gone willingly. I’m a Libra, they like the nice things. They like to eat. But I’m ready now. I’m ready for a whole different ballgame, a whole new city of sin.



begin again

its time for a fresh start.
time to take a different pace.

I’ve been unhappy. And I didn’t even realize to what degree.

I was making so much money, and working so hard, constantly. That I hadn’t taken the time to account for my spiritual well being. I was turning into a machine. My heart was getting hard around the edges.

I got fired from my waitressing job. The only one I’ve ever really liked. And I think it was for all the wrong reasons. Its either because I would or I wouldn’t have sex with one of the two men in charge. I’m not sure which one it was. I hope its because I wouldn’t… that would at least make me feel better. (C, you’re ugly inside and out, you have a small cock, and NEVER had a chance) But the other dude? Fuk. I probably still would. You bald handsome reckless sonofabitch. Why’d you let me go?

Because now I’m gone.

going, going, gone.

I’ve been thinking. About writing. I don’t practice as much as I should. I’ve written so much in the past few years. I take it for granted that its a natural talent. I used to work at it, every day. Now, with technology, iPhones, the internet and social media, my brain has been absorbed with Ecards on pinterest and new photos on instagram.

and that is not how you nourish any part of your heart.

So today, I woke up. and decided I would practice.

because practice and gifts from the mysterious beyond make perfect.

I used to think writing was something that brought meaning to my life because it was a tool I could use to create change. I thought through satire I would be able to awaken moderate fools to tune into a higher power; to change their rudimentary way of thought, to stop sucking and sitting idle while the world around them dies.

That is one reason why I write. Its one reason why I write what I write. But there is another reason, the first reason, the real reason, the greater reason why I’ve been a writer since I was much younger and inexperienced with the world.

the reason that grips your soul, holds you captive, commands your language, makes you cry with madness and laugh with grief. the reason that every artist does what they do.

to make this world a less lonely place.
to not feel alone
to share
to open up a little bit of your secret soul for a stranger to see
and through that, through that little bit of harmony
being a little bit less of strangers.
being a little bit less strange.
filling up the empty parts
with whatever it is you feel
owning it
knowing it
showing it
letting other people pick it up and find what they can see in themselves.

to put it simply.

to feel

this fresh start. this redirection, is going to help me to feel again. ways I hadn’t, ways I ignored, ways I wanted to run from.

doing the things that scare you, bring you closer to the source, grow your heart, make you fearless.
being fearless makes you a force to be reckoned with.

become unstoppable.



(by the way, if you want to read fux news, you have to know me: its my first and last name no space, enjoy)


people’s climate march




mothafuckasssssss. hell yeah.



This morning in new york city a bunch of dope mothafuckas are marching to bring wider attention to climate change. they’ve organized again and fuck yeah finally is just about all I can say. I’m really happy about it. And I wish they were occupying again so I could visit like tuesday or something.


I think we should #occupy again- ANYWHERE. This is the second time we’re knocking – and to be perfectly honest, I think we’re far too nice. I don’t know if they’ll even care this time- again… Who’s they? Corporate Sponsors, Frackers, dumb mother fuckers who think they own the planet and they can do whatever they want to the earth with no consequence.


people are screaming in my neighborhood.


I’ve never heard anybody scream like that around here before.






there are repercussions. to every.thing.

big & small.



So while I’m not making it down to the city today. I just wanted to say – I am with you in spirit. 25o%. And I wish you were fucking shutting shit down. striking, stopping traffic, STOPPING LIFE> because something’s gotta stop


how about fracking. that shits easy. STOP THAT.


and how about change to geothermal, hyrdo, solar or wind, power depending on where you live in the world and what’s easiest.


long process. I know. I know. and if there is one thing I lack friends, its patience. but it is true. great things take time. But I am so glad that there are enough down ass MF/s who love this earth the way I do. and get real sad thinking of all the people that don’t just disrespect it, but hurt it and take advantage of it.


if there is one thing we share in common with our mother earth

its that we’re just too damned kind to criminals.



in solidarity




sex and the city, sustainability, writing

wake and bake baby

its a good life

when you can do that.

took a wake and bake walk today. saw the sights. took in my new neighborhood. I live in the legit suburbs now. and I’m pretty much legit celibate also. So we can totally flop that Carrie Bradshaw reference. By some standards I’m probably not cooler at all anymore. I might have adopted the allure of a 40something year old stereotype soccer mom.

I walk a lot on private property. Nobody finds me though because I’m part ninja, part pixie. So I find myself, somewhere…. on the shore of maybe public water supply property, maybe not. And I pass by this water everyday. I see the shore I always thought was sand. And I thought, wow, there is a lot of sand showing. And I thought, wow, there are a lot of lily pads in the water as well.


well, somewhat wrong.

its mostly garbage. legit basura.

anybody speak spanish?

that means garbage.

I was walking along what I had imagined would be a sandy shore of a town river bank; and it was like walking on cardboard. I thought John The Baptist was going to appear to me himself and tell me to get my shit together. I can say literally it was an extremely sobering moment in my life.

that’s really all I’ve got to say about it.

that & don’t throw your damn trash out the window.

& recycle when you can.

make good choices