Clear as whiskey

There are days and nights when my mind digs deep into the crevasses of the subconscious, pulling out everything kept hidden down there. The worst things you pile on with other trash, a Pandora’s box of different ills and madnesses but with no golden, shining hope to find.

Sometimes lucidity is a curse. A fucking traitor of a curse that I jones for most days.

Huracan del mal

I finally learned the secret to forgiving yourself, after a thousand years of flogging myself mentally. It’s not something I stumbled upon; I realized it’s something I already knew, but never really put into perspective ’til now, like wiping fogged-up glass to see right through.


To forgive yourself, all you gotta do is acknowledge you were wrong, understand why you were wrong and why you did the wrong thing, deal with the consequences, and promise yourself you would do better in the same situation. Most importantly, you gotta accept that the sin has been committed and can’t be un-committed, and that you can only make it right by doing right next time.

Sometimes people who think make the simplest things more complicated than they truly are.


Today I did something I haven’t done in a long-ass time: I spent the day all for myself. Not in the land of dreams where the past lives, but in the daytime where the present shines–and the future is only awakening.

On dreams and reality

I have a little secret: I’ve wanted to be a pro wrestler ever since I was young.

Okay, okay—it’s not so little, and it’s not really so secret. I’ve play-wrestled when I was a kid, like all children tend to do (because nobody, and I mean nobody, listens to the “don’t try this at home” commercials; how else would the business be infused with new blood?) but it was in high school when I figured out that maybe, just maybe, this is something I could pull off. Given the right training, of course.

This was why, after some initial resistance, I sort of welcomed the idea of moving to America during our much-publicized attempt to do so back in ’06. I figured that when I got older and bigger, I could’ve gone to any wrestling school in the States, gotten training there, gotten into the business somehow, then go back home and try to jumpstart the industry again here.

Alas, the move was botched and we had to go home. I had to shelf those dreams indefinitely—until now.

A bunch of guys got together and started a local wrestling promotion, and what’s even better is that it’s not some ragtag backyard promotion. Everything is legitimate as it could be, and everyone’s serious about making this work. And deep down, I’m all like, “Finally.”

It’s time. You’ve got an idea of how long I’ve been waiting to do this, but you have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do it. I’m bracing myself for all the consequences I will suffer. I’m preparing myself for a future of pain, humility, humiliation, and sacrifice all just so I can chase my life’s dream. I’ve never even known anything else, and I’ve never wanted anything else more than this. I’m even willing to jinx it with all this talk because I feel like I can put this out to the world.

One day they’ll look back, and they’ll say we sparked a huge fire. I’d like to think that I started with my writing and the podcast, and I’ll be solidifying it with this. I’m gonna do this, or literally die trying. You mark my words; turns out dreams do actually come true.


This playlist’s for those who need a little pick-me-up in the morning: