He’s Just A Piece Of Shit: A correction to “He’s Just Not That Into You”

You’ve heard this. You’ve probably said it to a friend. Maybe someone said it to you, condescendingly, over your second vodka-cran, trying to help you land "reasonably" on an explanation for why some dude who looks like a cross between a baked potato and an ostrich who claimed to want you, was treating you like an option... And acting like the prize...

CONGRATULATIONS!!! Here's what you've won!

It’s meant to be kind. A clean explanation. A way to close the chapter without assigning blame (while blaming you for his behavior).

Here’s the problem (spoiler: it's him).

A man who realizes he isn’t into you romantically, but is also a decent human being (rare, I know), just... stops. He leaves honestly. He doesn’t pursue further. He doesn't objectify women as "backup toys." He doesn't deploy intermittent reinforcement or rage bait, while telling other people you're "obsessed" or "crazy" (*after you simply ask for clarity*), as a preemptive strike for... the inevitable fallout. He doesn’t take anything on his way out. He certainly doesn’t leave you poorer, more confused, or less intact than when he found you.

The breadcrumbing? That’s not “not that into you.”

The deliberate, malicious manipulation into sex? Not “not that into you.”

The resource siphoning: Your money, your time, your energy, your emotional labor, your hope, your creativity, while keeping you just warm enough to stay available?

That’s not a man who "isn’t feeling it."

That’s an insecure loser, who has been convinced he's the prize (*laughs maniacally*), who feels threatened by something that you represent, doesn't like you, AND has enough contempt to keep taking from you. Sometimes, he's just so deep in the closet that he's in a dimension where he *is* straight ("and it's the ONLY one, Morty" *belch*).

Those are two completely separate things. And collapsing them into one gentle self-help phrase has done enormous damage to an enormous number of women who deserved better, on top of an honest, REAL explanation, that stops absolving bad men of bad behavior.

"He's REALLY a good guy underneath!!" "I think he's an avoidant." "I understand why he did it, it's just that his wife..." "You don't have the full context..."

No, he's not a good person. Shut the FUCK up. You're the problem at this point- You, and your profound lack of critical thinking and pickmeism. You're keeping the bar in hell for ALL OF US.

I have paid for dates (in the ancient ruins of my past). *pukes in mouth*

I have "gone dutch" being told it was the right thing, the equal thing, the "modern" thing, the thing that proved I wasn’t "entitled" or WHAT-THE-FUCK-EVER. *shits pants*

I was wrong. Not morally wrong. Just operating on bad information delivered in (not-so) good faith by men (and some women) that benefited from my confusion and sabotaged sense of self-worth.

Here is what nobody told me:

When I paid, or split, or reached for my purse- I wasn’t demonstrating "independence." I was removing the mechanism by which a traditionally wired man builds investment and desire. I was doing his job for him... and he was letting me. And somewhere underneath the surface, without being able to articulate it, he liked me LESS for it.

He had it both ways. My resources and his diminished respect. Simultaneously... While I was struggling. Never "50/50" ALWAYS 90/10. Men attempting to rebrand no effort as a political position. "I'm a feminist." No, you're just some dude with childbearing hips and podcast bro talking points, who's exploiting a movement genuinely created to protect and empower women and girls, BY WOMEN, to have your cake and eat it too. All under the guise of "equality." At our expense. As usual.

And when I tell women this is what’s actually happening? When I try to hand them the cleaner explanation? Sometimes they argue back in perfect pickme circle logic. “Every relationship is different.” “I don’t mind paying sometimes, he doesn't owe me anything, we're equal.” (that's not equality) “He has a lot going on.” "At least I have a man, at least he doesn't hit me..." *projectile vomits*
(FFS why isn't anyone calling me a doctor?!?!)

I understand it. I really do. Accepting the truth requires accepting two painful things at once- that he’s not who you want him to be, and that you’ve been participating in your own diminishment with genuinely good intentions. That’s a lot to land on simultaneously. So the circle closes instead.

But here’s what the "circle" protects you from knowing:

If a man asks you out and then asks you to split the check or lets you pay, your body already knows before your brain catches up- "He doesn't actually like me." There should be nothing left. A full, instantaneous, permanent evacuation of interest. Your vagina should dry up SO COMPLETELY in his presence, that the entrance has become permanently sealed off to him- Not anger. Not a conversation. Just, "Ooohhh, so this *wasn't* a date. Got it." His reaction doesn't matter. "Disqualified, generic name ending in "n.""

That response isn’t pettiness. It’s information processed correctly, and it's not a dynamic I created- That’s a character failure we were too busy being generous to see clearly.

A man who is genuinely not interested (but basically decent), costs you nothing on his way out.

A man who costs you something: your money, your body, your time, your sanity, your safety, your next decade... wasn’t simply uninterested.
He was a threat.

“He’s just not that into you” asked you to be gracious. Soft. Forgiving. Self-flagellating.

This is the *factual* correction, and it's long overdue:

He’s just a piece of shit.

And that? Is not your fault.


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Suffer The Children

The kids are not the problem. We are.

We have collectively decided that children are the problem. Not the adults who built the world they inherited. Not the systems that failed them. The kids...

You can say things about children online that you would never say about any other group of people, and nobody flinches. “Kids these days.” “This generation is so soft.” Said with the smugness of someone who thinks that’s some profound cultural observation and not just... punching down at the people with the least power in any room. Kids who didn’t design the world they were handed, and are navigating conditions that would level most of the adults criticizing them.

Kids inherit the world adults built. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

And then there’s “child-free.”

Not talking about people who simply don’t want children. Valid, private, none of my fucking business. I mean the movement version. The identity. The whole community organized around active contempt for children existing in shared spaces. The “breeders” language. The fury at a child being present on a plane, in a restaurant, near them. Don't get me started on how weirdos in western society recently brainwashed and bullied others into accepting that dogs should somehow have more rights than little kids in public…

The language tells you everything. Free. As in liberated from. Children as the thing you’ve successfully escaped. That is a strange thing to build an identity around.

Children didn’t choose to be there. They’re not on the plane to inconvenience anyone. They’re new here. And the loudest voices in those spaces tend to be people with enough money to curate a life without children in it, looking down at people who don’t have that option. Punching down dressed up as a lifestyle.

Kids after Millennial have no reference point for a world without a camera in their face. None. And, I get why they're nostalgic for times they've never experienced. We, as (older) Millennials, got "The Last Great Childhood." The 80's/90's collective childhood was, as the kids say and fantasize about "peak." Delayed gratification, Saturday morning cartoons, and the expectation of third places... Even if some of our individual home lives were not wished on anyone else. Every awkward phase, every first experience, every normal bumbling moment of figuring out how to exist- It used to just disappear. There was a mercy in that. A kid at their first club night, wearing an outfit they were excited about, dancing awkwardly and having the time of their life... Those are sacred moments of simply becoming. Now they get recorded, posted, and handed to strangers to roast in the comments. Viciously. By adults.

And underneath all of that: School shooting drills as a routine part of childhood. An entire generation growing up practicing for their own potential massacre as a normal part of the school week. Plus cyberbullying, and sexual abuse material circulating at a scale that would have been incomprehensible twenty years ago.

These are not soft kids. These are kids carrying things no previous generation carried (collectively), and we have the nerve to call THEM the problem.

I’ve had to reassure single mothers more times than I can count that they don’t need to apologize for their kids. And I mean that literally. The pre-apologizing that mothers do in public, managing everyone else’s comfort around their children’s existence, on top of everything else they’re already managing.

One time, I just started dancing with some kids in the Dollar Tree and shouted “party on aisle 4!” They cheered. The mother looked relieved. Not just happy. Relieved.

In my building, a mom was trying to settle her kids down in the elevator, already apologizing before anyone said a word. I told her her kids were fine. A young man chimed in, "they're just doing what kids do." I said the people who have a problem with that are miserable. Because they are. I have always said that people who hate kids (to simplify it) hate themselves.

...To anyone feeling "triggered," this isn't a fight. This is the mirror- And I've paid the price more times than I can count, for being the only one to hold it up. I'll keep doing it anyway. Even when kids are being absolute terrors (I don't just mean bratty or obnoxious), I mean possible anomaly situations... They're still kids- All of them deserve regulated, competent adults who don't match or compete with them. If your instinct is to hurt, humiliate, or dismiss them, instead of empathize or understand as the ADULT (yes this is a lecture), you're the fucking problem and I want nothing to do with you. Let me be clear- All adults lose their cool, lose their patience, and have the human capacity to "snap" at times, but anyone who is reading this knows exactly the kind of asshole I am describing- That asshole should stay out of public spaces and get professional help.

Let me just slip in an edit here: The kids who eventually become adults, who need jobs to pay their bills, who will get into jobs they're very often not qualified for, don't have the skills or patience or energy for, aren't regulated for; don't give a shit about? That will eventually affect your life. Negatively. Especially when you need care, resources, or support... The kids who become adults that do not give af about anything, who get into positions with the slightest amount of power that they shouldn't be in, but they need the money from... tend to cause chaos in the lives of others and boy do they tend to enjoy it... "Sit with that."

Imagine if the funding, the resources, the actual political will, went toward building up kids and their struggling parents instead of keeping everyone’s nervous systems on fire. We know what works. It’s not a mystery- Stable housing, supported parents, safe schools, nutritious food (see: Kyushoku), early mental health access. We have the research. We’ve had it for decades.

Instead, most vote for and fund the downstream consequences. Prisons instead of pre-K. "Boot straps" and schadenfreude, instead of social and financial safety nets… until it's their life or someone they care about. Then suddenly it's, "well, this is completely different." We keep making the other choice, and then logging on to flex, "Fuck these kids" or "What’s wrong with kids today?"

Nothing is wrong with kids today- Everything is wrong with us.

Party on... Aisle 4.





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Top 5 Dream Drummers to Work With and The percussive Ramblings of a Maniac

In no particular order:
Terry Bozzio (I lied. He's number 1)
Neil Peart
Jimmy Chamberlin
Stewart Copeland
Phil Collins
Also, "top" lists are always bait- The list would be endless.

Drummers: The percussion might seem secondary when it comes to a song/composition as a whole, but the drummer, the beat, the rhythm (even the absence of said bangery) is so utterly foundational when it comes to a piece of music, that you immediately notice its absence (or hollow yet commanding solo presence). The first musical instruments are widely considered percussion... being obviously the most intuitive/practical. I'll give a brief nod to include the bass section here as well, since that often functions as percussion, or its stand-in.

My friend Alex (a *truly gifted* piano player since childhood) and I had a conversation years ago where I mentioned jazz-based drummers being superior in their training to all others. "If you can play jazz, you can play anything," he said. I agree, with one caveat: this is ONLY as far as percussionists are concerned. Jazz-based drummers are ABSOLUTE FUCKING BEASTS. I want a jazz drummer for anything I'm playing. Notably live. ANY DAY. With all other musicians, I don't care about the background depending on what they're contributing. Ad-libs, style, raw talent, what they've composed... It doesn't matter. Training or no training, and the best are often UNTRAINED. Untainted by training and technique (I'm a little biased). I think kids should develop their ears, first and foremost, and everyone has their own musical "language." Moving along... The drummer, the foundation? Give me jazz, give me the chaos, or give me death. I do not necessarily agree that jazz musicians in general can play anything, and I don't think that's a particularly controversial take either. Classical musicians? Maybe. Musicians with perfect ears? Again, I might be a little biased there, but...

Btw, Alex, I hope you're doing well if you're reading this. Shoot me a message.

Why Terry Bozzio is my first pick:



I wish I'd been able to catch Missing Persons when I still lived in Los Angeles. "Nobody walks in LA," my ass. I walked EVERYWHERE. That city is beautiful, warts and all, and the people who don't walk it are truly missing out. Some Australian guy once shouted that line at me and then said "Hey, you wanna ride babay?!" as I left a Del Taco (my former LA happy place. I no longer eat carbs or fast food) and walked past the gas station where he was filling up. If LA is "God's toilet," that also means it's God's Golden Shower State. That's me. Always trying to see the golden lining... so to speak.

I don't consider myself a "drummer." I don't consider myself an exclusive "anything" though I'm more than proficient (whatever that means) at many instruments. All instruments are tools that I use to write (even virtual ones), and I happen to apply the skills from the ones I already know intimately, to any that I continue to pickup- Isn't that how it's supposed to work?

My first continued exposure to consistently playing percussion was being part of an African drum ensemble for two years as a kid, run by a Ghanaian man named Sowah Mensah. I know it heavily influenced my developing brain and my music, and I'm deeply thankful for that. What I didn't fully realize until much later was how naturally that tradition baked in unusual time signatures and polyrhythm. You're not counting 4/4 like a metronome when you're in that circle. You're locking into something... living, something that shifts and breathes and lands somewhere most Western ears aren't trained to expect. 7/8, 12/8, patterns that stack on top of each other until the whole thing becomes its own organism. That got into me early before I even had my own musical language, and never left- STOP DEFUNDING THE ARTS FOR OUR KIDS, YOU FLAT FUCKING KILLJOYS. GIVE THEM BACK THEIR CREATIVITY AND DEVELOPING BRILLIANCE!!!!! *Pukes in mouth* *Spontaneously combusts* This blog post would go on for a week if I said all that I wanted to say, and included my additional goofy rants.

Later in high school, finally getting time on V drums with a pro showing me actual technique was genuinely helpful. But honestly? Sowah had already done the real damage. When I actually started recording music, drum "programming"/recording sounds from any and every source, is where I really started bringing all the pent up madness into focus. The grid was never just a grid to me. It was always something you could push against, play inside of, or blow up entirely if the moment called for it- That's what I want from a drummer. Not just someone who keeps time. Someone who understands that time is a suggestion and a conversation, not a cage- A human drum machine, and a drum circle with tap dancers if necessary.

Thank you for the read.


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Violation is never a Misunderstanding or Mistake

It is always entitlement coupled with contempt.

That’s it. That’s the whole thing. Entitlement says, “I should have access.” Contempt says, “you don’t count enough to stop me.” Together, they’re a permission slip someone writes for themselves, about you, sometimes without your knowledge, and definitely without your consent.

And then they just… act on it. Enter your living space when you're not home. Go through or even hack into your devices/network. Decide you two are closer than you are. Steal, destroy, or sell your possessions/belongings. Sexually assault you. Beat you. Choke you. Narrate your life and completely fabricate stories to other people in rooms you don’t know about, so that you won't be credible if you ever do speak up (the double whammy). Forge your signature or steal your identity. Insert themselves into your story with zero acknowledgment that it’s your story. Sometimes people you’ve barely met. Sometimes people you’ve never met at all.
Sometimes, these people are in positions of "authority" that they have no business being in.

Here’s the part that took me awhile: It doesn’t matter if you just tell, or give them access. Freely. Openly. It doesn’t satisfy anything, because it's never actually about the information or access. It's about taking something from you- It's about getting in somewhere without consent. A door that’s already open is boring to someone who showed up to breach it.

So “a misunderstanding” or “miscommunication” or (my favorite) “you're paranoid”... are the oldest uno reverses in the book. Except, they're not- Especially when there's documented evidence. They made a decision. They made it before they acted. They made it every single time after that, too. The decision to violate someone is always made before the violation happens, whatever their "justifications." And it is very difficult to get people to part with their "just world hypothesis" view of their own bubbled little worlds... So people (mostly women) are always expected to “extend grace” or “give the benefit of the doubt" and are often just apathetically ignored, hoping it goes away and THEY won't have to act or help. Or sometimes, (I love this one) you just get hit with an… "Are you SURE that's what happened?" *pukes in mouth* *shits pants*



The misunderstanding or even misremembering framing only works if the other person agrees to it. I never did.

Ps: Since we’re here- This has gotten worse. People have become increasingly... weird- Social media/The digification of relationships did something to people’s already questionable grasp of social boundaries, and then covid finished the job. Antisocial behavior (not to be confused with asocial *waves hand*) got normalized so gradually (notably in group settings), that a lot of people genuinely can’t locate the line anymore, were never formally introduced to the line in the first place through proper socialization, or stopped caring entirely that it exists. Digital access to someone became confused with actual access to someone, and actual physical access gave way to an even more twisted sense of entitlement. Watching became mistaken for knowing, proximity became mistaken for closeness. And entitlement, which was already a problem before any of us had a smartphone, got a whole new set of tools and a much larger audience... Not to mention, the pornification of everything, which we're only beginning to see the devastating effects of on not only male desensitization/aggression, but the utter dehumanization of women and girls in the last 20 years or so... Another blog.

Honestly, I've BEEN fucking tired of all of this, and I know I'm not alone.


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The Plight of The Average Midwest Man?

There's a specific kind of man who cannot accept that he is, in the most neutral sense of the word, average. Not broken, not particularly damaged. Just ordinary. No mythology, no wound that sets him apart (...not counting self-inflicted), no story worth telling at a dinner party... Just average. There's nothing wrong with that, but to him, it is... agony. Meanwhile, it's like, “DUDE, YOU WON." The safe, supportive nuclear family/safety net, stable job and income (in most cases), no childhood trauma, abduction, bizarre pattern of catastrophic events or abuse to speak of, often a house, and the friends you've known since grade school... But, it's just - not - enough. There's some empty hole burning through him... And so he finds the story, the mythology, the trauma... Or rather, he finds someone to borrow hers from.

I've been that someone. More than once- And I'm not alone in this.

The woman they actually choose, the one they “partner with" or marry, the one they build the whole nuclear family with in some cases, she's not the problem. She's wonderful. She's beautiful. She deserves someone who is fully there. He is always the problem. Because he builds a life with her while quietly maintaining a phantom somewhere else. Someone whose words he reads in secret. Someone whose voice, whose music, whose processing of her own difficult life he consumes from a safe distance. Without her knowledge, and certainly without anything resembling reciprocity.

He casts her: Muse, "cautionary tale," "manic pixie," "the one that got away," the unattainable "thing" he keeps perfect, precisely because he never actually reaches for it. And then when the structure holding his real life together starts to shift, when the grief or the dissatisfaction, or the quiet desperation gets loud enough- He reaches toward the phantom like she's a lifeline. Like she's been waiting. Like she'd want that? Like she fully even remembers him.

What they never seem to understand, is that being someone's mythology isn't a compliment. It is a specific kind of erasure. You're not a person; you're a function. A screen. A mirror. A role in someone else's story that you never auditioned for and can't quit, because you were cast without your knowledge- The real kicker is, he's cosplaying as protagonist, while actually being a real-world NPC...

I've been the fetish/novelty, the one they'd never actually commit to even when they (allegedly) loved me, the joke/punchline, the punching bag/projection screen, "the bitch" "myth" "the genius" "the Barbie" (…) the subject of someone else's narrative that bore no resemblance to my actual life. I've had people insert themselves into my life and work, literally and figuratively, people I've never even met or met in passing, with enthusiasm and contempt, and never my consent. And they often think they're honoring me- That's the part that's both hilarious and dehumanizing. "I'm sorry, but have we actually ever met?" I once said to a woman who needed a reality check on her bizarre over-familiarity. Another tell is when they use a childhood nickname of mine to address me (that I *never* use to introduce myself, and don't even go by now), and I cheekily ask, "Who's that? That's not actually my name. So, who's been talking shit?" The deer in headlights look is priceless.

The women who get "chosen," *pukes in mouth* the ones who “make sense," they're not lesser. They're safer. They won't hold up a mirror. They won't see through the performance. They won't name what's actually happening and hand it back with a raised eyebrow. And so he chooses her, and quietly keeps the phantom.

Here's the truth: I've been single for nearly seven years. Celibate for nearly eleven (there's a 7-11 joke in here somewhere...), and not because I've been waiting by the window or quietly dying inside. I made a conscious choice, and I've been completely fine with it. More than fine. What I haven't been able to locate is someone worth disrupting that for. Someone who shows up as a person, not a casting director. Not someone shopping, not someone extracting, not someone competing, not someone destroying.

What I actually want is not complicated- I want someone who actually sees me and goes, "YES, this is it for me. Only this." Then moves and invests accordingly. Not, "YES, I'm gonna try and siphon this bitch for all the light she possesses, and then when I've baited her into being angry enough, I'll pretend that's what she did to me." …Kind, generous, honest, assertive, someone present and patient. Not trying to break me, compete, or compare… Just someone flawed, but always learning and growing- in a real, non-threatening way (…oh, and handsome). Considering most men sadly don't even like women, and have no real incentive to be better people...

...I'm starting to think that's a relic of a bygone era- But I haven't completely stopped believing it exists somewhere for me.

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Pretty In Pink 2: Andie and Steff's Post-rehab Hookup

You know that moment in the original 90210 when Kelly Taylor, standing between Dylan and Brandon, looks at both of them and says “I choose me?” That was revolutionary for Gen X teen girls. I am not Gen X, but I am a geriatric Millennial fan of 90210.

*🎶Biblical electric guitar anthem🎶*

Andie Walsh deserved that same moment. “Quirky” *pukes in mouth* girls deserved THAT moment in 1986. THAT’S how the movie should’ve ended… Not Blaaaaane kissing Andie- And not to mention, the gaslighting he did to her at the end... Fucking Blane! I hate Blane! BLAAAAANE was SPINELESS. Irredeemable. Loathsome. Contemptible. And I mean this in absolutely no offense to Andrew McCarthy, whose work I do appreciate. He certainly got the job done.

Hear me out- Steff is the most redeemable male in this entire film. The only smarmy 80’s villain you actually want to end up with the girl at the end. The entire movie, Steff is just expertly serving cvnt to us, and not just because he’s James Spader. Ftr, daddy can still get it. Anytime. On his death bed. I'm on call sir... Nobody's surviving the ride. Not even the bystanders... Just, tossin' this one out... (bring the linen suit). James Spader, my beloved… where was I? James Spader has been somebody’s sexual awakening in every decade since 1980. Every woman, some men, and several people still figuring it out, between the ages of 18 and 73, have had a James Spader moment. You know the one.

*Adjusts posture* Moving along... Steff isn't the actual the villain- He's the most honest character in the film. Immature, reckless, jealous, narcissistic, entitled, spoiled rich kid... but still the most honest. He's NOT OFF the hook, but he's the most likeable. Steff actually liked Andie, despite his obvious character flaws. Underneath her self-respect and understandable contempt for him, there was actual chemistry. BLANE is the actual villain. Steff knew what he was. Blane pretended. Oh fuck Blane... I FUCKING HATED BLANE!!! *Literally shouting this out loud* Duckie was almost equally terrible as the original "nice guy" blueprint, but Duckie had potential for growth.

Pretty in Pink 2: Ten years later

Blane is exactly where you’d expect him to be: Married to someone appropriate, someone his parents approved of, someone he doesn’t love. He’s in finance. He coaches little league and he’s miserable and he deserves it.

Duckie is… Fine actually. Grew out of it. Still besties with Andie. Plays bass in TWO bands.

Andie? Andie is running an independent record label out of Los Angeles. It’s somewhere off Sunset. She found her people. She’s good.

And Steff?

Steff calls her record label after getting out of rehab and doing “the work.” Not because he planned to. Because he might be on step 9… and she’s on the list. Okay, you know what? Scratch that- Anyone who’s ever received one of these apologies, knows that they’re not always (or even usually) welcome. They're often a spontaneous insult, or retraumatization... For the asshole "apologizing" to check a box (that’s another blog). He did coke for a decade and after a spectacularly ugly divorce and blowing through most of his trust fund, somewhere in the wreckage he realized the only person he was ever actually honest with was the redhead he spent 4 years terrorizing in the hallways of a high school he barely remembers.

She calls him back. That’s what I have for you all.

If John Hughes were still alive, I would tell him this: You owe every woman an apology for Judd Apatow movies.

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Leon Kennedy, my Beloved (oh, and Kiryu's here, too!)

My life is basically a mashup between Resident Evil and The Yakuza Saga. Except I’m the only human showing up without a gun or superhuman reflexes. Somehow, Leon Kennedy parries literal zombies with chainsaws while understanding people better than most of the men I've met. My OG husband Kazuma Kiryu? He survived entire gang wars, betrayal, and the literal collapse of the world around him- and still somehow loves, protects, and listens.

Meanwhile, the men I encounter in real life? Most wouldn’t survive a single chapter of either game. Not emotionally. Not morally. Not physically. And certainly not with the subtlety women need.

Leon Inspires Chaos, But is Not My Usual Type

I’m not typically attracted to translucent blue eyes and pale, ethereal features. Most of the time, those traits just scream “fragile vampire boy” to me. Yet Leon Kennedy… somehow short circuits my brain. He inspires the most unhinged reactions in the general population. People either want to be him, protect him, be protected by him, punch him, or claim him as their own. Entire forums and social feeds (sorry if you follow me on IG) devolve into chaos over him. He is literally a walking social experiment in desire and gay panic.

And now, the moment that broke my brain: Gideon stroking Leon’s hair while he’s tied up and supposed to be interrogating him. And Leon? Not a twitch. Not a flinch. Just calm. Lethal. Magnetic. Existing. My jaw detached itself like a Ren and Stimpy episode somewhere around the third second, while I shouted, “OLD MAN YAOI! WE HAVE OLD MAN (DOOMED!) YAOI!!!" (I see you, Capcom). The randomness, the absurdity, the chaotic sensuality... It was like watching a perfectly choreographed trainwreck.

Actual footage of my reaction*

*** Family Guy Cutaway --- Unhinged flashback ***

Leon: “Think you can swallow me whole, huh?”

{Camera pans to everyone's reaction}

Me, with zero hesitation: “I dunno, daddy, but if I’ve got your permission, I’ll give it my best shot."

Gideon, from nowhere, sniffing Leon's jacket: “You're a dead man walking!"

Kiryu, the irritated dad who's had enough of this shit: “落ち着け! (Cool it!).”

(I'm... so sorry)

And yet, somehow, Sam Reid in Interview with the Vampire sneaks into my brain. Not usually my type, right? But watching him… maybe now it is. The elegance, the gaze, the VOICE, the chaos simmering under control; it’s like seeing Leon Kennedy’s calm, magnetic energy in human form. Coincidence? I think not.

Meanwhile, Kiryu? He’s my actual type: beautifully swarthy, impossibly solid, but with that understated softness under the steel... His intoxicating bass voice (bites fist)- I regret not being able to link to Kuroda Takaya's NSFW Voice-over recordings... Anyway, I’m pale mild chaos; maybe it’s why I like the calming bronze gods. He grounds me, thrills me, and embodies the kind of presence many women tend to actually desire and need.

Audible Gasping*

Trauma Doesn’t Break Them; It Makes Them Human

Leon has seen things no one should: blood, betrayal, people he trusted turning into monsters. And yet, he notices the little things. He adapts. He doesn’t avoid the hard stuff because he’s scared of discomfort; he faces it. Kiryu? He’s watched his chosen family crumble around him, been betrayed, beaten, shot, left for dead… and yet he’s still steady, reliable, and attentive (like... women in the real world).

Contrast that with real men: Discomfort and inconvenience often seem to make men avoid responsibility, dodge conflict, or perpetuate cycles of harm. Emotional avoidance/immaturity isn’t charming; it’s exhausting and repellent. Many men I’ve known (and observed) have been quick to anger, slow to empathy, and eager to blame rather than reflect. Some even repeated abusive patterns, claiming ignorance (or projection) as a shield while I’m left cleaning up the damage.

Leon, Gideon, and the Umbrella Curse: Chaos, Hair, and Hormones

Here’s my theory: the Umbrella Curse doesn’t just make people murderous or biohazardous. It also makes everyone horny. Throw Leon into a viral apocalypse scenario, sprinkle in trauma, and suddenly every character goes borderline unhinged with desire. I don’t know if it’s canon, but it should be.

Meanwhile, Kiryu walks in, solid and composed as ever. He doesn’t trigger apocalyptic hormones (unless we're talking the fated Dead Souls release...). He just is. Grounding, terrifyingly competent, devastatingly attractive. Without even trying. Leon = chaos incarnate. Kiryu = safety net. Me? Squealing internally while applauding the physics of fictional sexual tension.

The Parallel With My Own Life

I see myself in Leon and Kiryu. I see women’s needs and actual behaviors reflected in their actions: empathy, respect, patience, and courage. And then I look at real men who dodge, excuse, or deny. Men who avoid the hard conversations, refuse accountability, or actively gaslight, and I realize how much survival skill women develop just to navigate their avoidance.

It’s exhausting. It’s absurd. And honestly? It’s why I retreat into worlds where men can be flawed but still grow, protect, and cherish. Where their trauma shapes them, rather than excuses their harm.

In Closing

Yes, I love two men who don’t exist outside games. And yes, they’re better than most of the men I meet in real life. Leon inspires chaos, Gideon dislocates my jaw, the Umbrella Curse confirms my suspicions about universal unhinged desire; and now maybe Sam Reid does, too. Kiryu embodies the kind of integrity and presence many women desire and need. Until men like them exist in the wild, I’ll keep surviving my own Raccoon City Kamurocho, quietly cheering for my husbands who could actually handle it.

...For your viewing pleasure:

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The Darker Side of Gossip and Distortion

Where it’s done deliberately, with the aim of destabilizing or destroying someone else’s life- Slander doesn’t need to be loud; it can be whispered, cloaked as ‘concern,’ or disguised as social commentary. Yet its impact is very real, measurable, and lasting. Observing these patterns isn’t judgment; it’s recognition.

Some people don’t just gossip or manipulate; they also weaponize it, targeting the very people they’ve harmed under the guise of ‘truth,’ or poetic justice. What this really is, is revenge. But, for what exactly? In their eyes, they’re taking revenge for imagined slights, perceived disrespect, jealousy/envy, or simply for being caught in a reflection of their own behavior... even though they would never admit it. They often sprinkle in a grain of truth; just enough to make their narrative believable- While twisting context, exaggerating faults, or outright lying. They stir drama and cast blame so convincingly, that their targets end up defending themselves while the abuser plays victim. This creates a vacuum of confusion, self-doubt, social isolation and withdrawal, and emotional exhaustion. Victims are forced to navigate a minefield they didn’t create, often questioning their own perception while the abuser’s narrative drops faster than a cringey 2000's Eminem diss track (hands up! hands up!)... **neurodivergent grimace**... It’s not loyalty, concern, or nuance; it’s cruelty disguised as performance art.

And, FFS: Before you assume anything about someone, and become a little flying monkey, ask yourself: Have you ever actually met the person in question? Do you *actually* know them, personally? Have you been a recent part of their life? Or are you only seeing them through the warped filter of someone else’s (alleged) story? If the answer is anything other than yes… congratulations! You’re forming opinions about a caricature; not a real human being. Here's some free advice, especially for women: Stop outsourcing your judgment (we've all done it). If you’re letting someone else dictate your opinion, it’s probably because you crave approval (male approval... *pukes in mouth*), or your self-worth is conveniently on vacation. Try therapy (be discerning), and standing apart from that protective group think bubble for once.

Writing this isn’t just venting or documenting chaos. It’s my way of permanently killing off roles that I never auditioned for. By observing patterns, exposing manipulative tactics (which I know are not always conscious), and holding up a mirror- I reclaim the space and energy that used to be wasted on their games. I’m not here to argue, to prove anyone wrong, or to beg for recognition. I’m here to live clearly, and on my own terms. Fucking finally... And if someone feels implicated, that often says more about them, than the situation itself.

Saturday through Sunday, Monday, Monday through Sunday, yo (I can’t be your Superman).

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Some people never mentally leave their formative years

Actually, I’d argue that it’s most people. If you pay attention to how people in groups form their goofy hierarchies and petty competitions (yes, that’s a touch of snark that you detect), how they gossip about people close to them, this is easily most people in simple group settings. I’ve never understood or operated with a sense of hierarchy or competition in mind. Only when I’m attempting to play along for a sense of social normalcy (which has backfired on me). The only real sense of competition I’ve held, was directly with my own body of work. Sincerely. And, let me be clear about this- Blowing off occasional steam (which ideally should be done with someone who doesn’t know of the other person), or warning women about a predator, is not the same as “gossip.” Therapists are great for this, btw, as long as they're not projecting their own harmful and arrogant theories and problems onto you (to say it politely). I think a lot of people have lost the plot on nuance, due to social media.

Don’t get me wrong here- Some situations have inherent hierarchy: Military, work situations (“work culture” is just an extension of high school anyway, right?), some family structures, even romantic relationships, regarding outsiders and time- If everybody is in charge, then nobody is in charge. So the rankings/titles matter. But, in many cases, they seem to devolve into some sort of underhanded malicious cohort. Back to relationships: Most people are monogamous, and one’s significant other, in most *healthy* typical relationships, should come first most of the time (don't read into this the wrong way), or tension will arise pretty quickly. Though, in the case of “non-monogamy” (which, I’ll be upfront about my utter contempt for), you have hierarchy on stimulants, avoidance, and co-dependency… Though many of these folks will argue that this is untrue.

Is that all “high school," or is that human nature? Or, is it all the result of male socialization and domination? Does that make people like me anomalies, or robots? Sometimes I feel like I'm just too oblivious to understand, coupled with my disinterest in playing along. This is why I mostly enjoy my own company, and simply being alone. Which adds to the ruffling of feathers- As if I haven't "earned" the right to opt out somehow (...and as if I care at this point in my life). Other people projecting their sense of unworthiness and worthlessness onto me; that's nothing new, though it has affected (infected) me in the past. That's a discomfort I've learned to reflect right back to others with graceful assertiveness. “Return to Sender."

I don’t know exactly why I’m posting this (wtf is a blog?). Tangential streams of thought are kinda my thing, and maybe someone will come across this and feel some sense of relief (or maybe anger). So, I’ll end with this, as I think about it a lot: Some people use the language of pain to avoid accountability. Some exaggerate pain so they can justify the pain they cause others. The strangest part being, the people that they cause harm to, have already suffered through extended situations and events, that would’ve likely killed them; and perhaps that’s partly (and twistedly) why they do it. If this applies to you, I’m sure that you have been in pain, but I’m also sure that it’s *been* time to sit alone with yourself, in a mirror. For an extended period. Here’s the thing- Character isn’t loud; it’s just consistent.

Don’t coddle people who repeatedly take advantage of the humanity in others.

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My website is back up- I never left.

Hi!!! After years in hibernation, my site is back up! So: While in general I'm a pretty transparent/honest person, I'm also fiercely protective of my privacy- I'm fiercely protective of those I love, often to my own detriment. I detest others exaggerating, lying, baiting, or twisting context for their own motives, narrating on my behalf, or exploiting me in any way... To put it simply, I have a zero-tolerance policy for malicious gossip, rumors, and scapegoating; notably, when the goal is devaluing, dismissing, discrediting, humiliating, and silencing women. Let me make myself very clear: Nobody speaks for me, nobody speaks on my behalf.

Due to the nature of, and (de-)evolution of social media and the internet- I have not had public, personal social media accounts for years, and I have fully distanced myself (...YEARS ago) from the people who have harmed/dehumanized me (not to mention, the outright *illegal* sabotage), and who still continue trying to, while I've regained some sense of control over my life, my image, my voice. My site is my little home for updates, my music, and general Tom Foolery.

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New songs

I used to update here a few years ago, but didn't keep up with it- I'm finally in a spot where I can record material. The noise is a problem, but I'm working through it. I lived in Los Angeles for awhile. I'll probably end up back there at some point, but I have a lease for now. More on that in another post.

New songs: I've been writing/composing/recording since I was a kid. Some things date back... really far. I have new work that I'd like to become an album (albums... aren't those from the 90's?), and might combine some of it with older work. I would also like to finally start playing out- In the past, I tried to assemble some sort of live band, but this time, I'll just go it solo, whether or not I can piece that together.

I sold my instrument setup both before moving to, and before coming back from, Los Angeles. I finally reacquired instruments and such, so I can just go at it. I do need to get my hands on an acoustic guitar.

Next time


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