Why I do What I do

I was blessed to be sent an unbelievable text from my great friend and consistent inspiration Colin Maddock. The text was not unbelievable because he sung my praises. Or told me he supported me. Or told me how cool it was I what I was doing. I think he sent me a text like that when I was flying back from San Fran to Columbus. It was unbelievable because of how much I connected with it on a deeper level and how much it related to my journey and why I do what I do.

I do not know if Colin is for sure going to post it or if he already has or not. Just know that is what inspired this blog and if you like anything I write in here you’ll love what he has to say.


“There he goes. One of God’s own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.” – H.S.T

For starters, why do I use quotes so much. This one is so important to me it is actually tattooed on me so I’ll tell you why I get those as well. I use quotes so much because it is usually the only way to describe how I feel to a decent extent and not sound crazy when I say it. I know I have been sheltered, filled with thoughts that are not mine, and I am really fucking dumb because of it. When I find quotes, sayings, or even words that stick with me they usually stick around in my head until I write them down. Usually if I have journaled them and they do not shut up, I will use the quote for inspiration of a blog. If they public has seen the quote and why I like it and it still wont shut up, then, I usually will use a short hand of that quote or word and either use that or create a design and get it tattooed. That is usually the only way I can truly get it to shut up.


Now going off that I guess another great question is why do I write. I always just answered that question with, well, it was something that helped me after my Dad died. Which is the truth but so little a tip of an iceberg of what writing has brought me and what it brings me every time I do it. Writing has been my saving grace. It has been one of the few things outside of those that supported that I can honestly say is a reason I am still here today. I always have people telling me ” well I cant write like you” or “Man I would love to journal but I dont know what I would write about it or how I would find the time to do it”

Well you and I both know thats bullshit. You know what I do know? That I can’t write like you and that is what is so beautiful about writing. Do not start writing trying to be the next Mark Twain or Thoreau, just write to be you. Start with a journal about how your day was. The great thing about a writers high is that it is much easier to get than a runners high if you write for fun. What will start as three sentences about your day could turn into a critque of the 9-5 workweek. Or a call to arms about how people do not understand what recycling bins we are supposed to put what into.

I am not asking you to post it. Just asking you to give it a chance.


Why I wear at least two watches- most of the time I have at least two watches on and neither of them ever tell the correct time. This started as a joke but ended up saving me from deep cuts to my wrists during a hiking accident in Park City. Now I look at it as an ode to a great mentor of mine. Kurt Vonnegut. He got to me in high school. My senior year I read Slaughterhouse-Five. It was my senior paper and I was in AP lit so it was extra intense. Since then I have read two more of his books and listened to hours of audio books. He introduced me to the idea that time was not linear but moments we could always go back to, that did not make much sense at the time, but now with that thought I am never away from my dad as he is with me in my memories and dreams and other forms of time travel. Also a quote from Vonnegut to ponder –

“America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves. To quote the American humorist Kin Hubbard, ‘It ain’t no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be.’ It is in fact a crime for an American to be poor, even though America is a nation of poor. Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters. The meanest eating or drinking establishment, owned by a man who is himself poor, is very likely to have a sign on its wall asking this cruel question: ‘if you’re so smart, why ain’t you rich?’ There will also be an American flag no larger than a child’s hand – glued to a lollipop stick and flying from the cash register.

Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves. This inward blame has been a treasure for the rich and powerful, who have had to do less for their poor, publicly and privately, than any other ruling class since, say Napoleonic times. Many novelties have come from America. The most startling of these, a thing without precedent, is a mass of undignified poor. They do not love one another because they do not love themselves.”

Why I thrift and try to find the craziest look at me clothes- To be completely honest? I think its an attention thing. But most things I do I rarely can find a deeper meaning to until its so obvious. I think the reason I dress crazy is to create familiarity. My defenses are already down because I travel alone and people can see that. By creating an image they may see in my manic walking around town in the first 3 days i usually get to any where it gives them a reason to come up and talk to me. Most people think I look like an asshole, which is true, but I am on a quest to prove first impressions mean nothing. 75% of you either met me or have seen me so fucked up, I have said terrible things, done terrible things, and yet here you still are. Like bad dogs just waiting for me to kick again. I am sorry I dont mean to kick, its just that rent is do, my wife keeps bringing her boyfriend over and my kids dont even know who I am.

Why I have a mustache and wear a pinky ring- These two are two of my favorite, what started as nothing more than a joke has become to of the grounding parts of my personality. The mustache is a lost art ruined by horrible and creepy men. But along with a really fucking long beard it still stands as one of the greatest uses of facial hair. If you are man enough to pull it off you are in a rank of few. It helps me relax and think by rubbing it. Which is similar to why I got my pinky ring. Less of a joke more of a “I need navajo jewlery and I dont think I am ready for earrings’ but it also has become one of my favorite few things I own. I constantly play with it when my yo-yo is occupied, I always know its there and it keeps me grounded

There is much more I could go into, but no need for it now. Enjoy.

Keep on keeping on,


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