Filtering by Tag: hell

Positive Sarcasm Presents: No Excuses - The Long Walk Home.

“I went downstairs and grabbed the box full of her stuff including a painting she did that I liked and the picture of her in Boston Harbor, drove across town in the snow, my heart pounding, my head racing with pure insanity regarding the actions I was performing but with the idea that I never wanted to be taken for granted again, never being gullible or believing in the idea that humans are inherently good. I could no longer help her or myself, but hopefully someone else could; which is why I didn't hesitate when I pulled up to the house...and dropped the whole box of Melissa's crap right on her friends porch...Happy New Year."

-No Excuses: Chasing Dante – Part Two, October 2016

Writing about your successes in life is easy. Writing about your failures is even easier. Writing about your stupidity/insanity isn't. Planning out the approach to this article was like playing mental Ping-Pong with a live grenade. As with the other three articles, this piece will revisit my life between January 2016 to Spring 2017 with my final thoughts on the entire series and the people who greatly affected it. There are no real secrets in this world anymore, so as I close out this article and the series it's attached to...expect shit to fly.

“Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.”

-Mike Tyson


January 2016:

Holidays have zero meaning to me at this point. Birthdays, Christmas, it doesn't matter in my routine, I'm only left with disappointment as my journey towards crazy town had hit full speed. For three weeks I would barely speak to my roommate, Beth after the messy confession I left on someones porch. It clearly had no effect as in late January I receive a text asking the question, “Do you still hate me?” Fucking really? After I dump all of Melissa's stuff on her friends icy porch, she's still reaching out? At this point, who's the crazy one? If you don't mind, I'll be calling her M for the majority of the helps keep the writing on track and the computer in one piece.

Apparently she wants to talk, why, I have no clue, I agreed to listen to whatever bullshit she has to say on a treadmill somewhere in Goffstown. I don't like how my emotions swing in so many different directions whenever I think of her and at the time when I saw her. She knew what I wanted each time throughout the three years of knowing her, so when I left her at the gym that night after hearing her out, I was left with no real conclusions, other than that the door still may be open, Christ am I fucking stupid. I should of known better considering that if you workout at a Planet Fitness, your not committed to bettering yourself or others around you. She said she still cared about me and I guess that was enough to fuel me for another year of bullshit.

Article writing was spotty at best during 2015 so I found it important to find my style again, but where to begin after a long hiatus and no place to call home. Lying on a makeshift bed on the floor each night didn't offer much inspiration, so I braved the winter cold and booked a lovely spot by the ocean for a “Writers Retreat.” No TV, no friends, just a view of the ocean and a steady supply of coffee. Since the original “No Excuses” dropped in November 2014, I only dropped three articles over a span of one year. After kicking off the New Year with “The Hiroshima Effect”, which was in response my little escapade across town with M's box of stuff, I sat in that hotel room and wrote two sweet little Gems over the course of eight hours. I was pleased with the unapologetic approach my writing was becoming. After M checked in with me to see how my writing was going, I reviewed my spelling and grammar as well as I could, prepared the artwork for Instagram and called it a night.

It seemed at the time that I had found my knack for writing again, regardless of how dark the tone of the articles were, so I was more fearless in the topics I would cover going forward. Generally when life was more hopeful, my writing would tend to come more frequently, but when it was pure chaos, my keyboard would be mostly silent, but I never really was able to rekindle that flare I once had before all this shit went down. Women tend to have that affect on me, especially the ones that are lying, cheating whores...more on that towards the end.

My food prep business was starting to burn out as it was a great strain on me, I always wanted to be available to everyone at all times. I considered myself a great time management person and could achieve anything once I had the time pattern down. However when it came to dealing with people, this was a skill I never really sharpened and this prove to be a major factor in 2016.

March 2016:

I thought it was my moment to shine as someone who could be relied on. The car was clean, the gas tank was full and M's daughter was excited. I offered to drive them down to Boston so they could attend a concert on Lansdowne St where Fenway Park sits. While they were inside, I shot across town to the North end, grabbed a bunch of pastries and had some dinner nearby. When I returned, they seemed to be at odds over a t-shirt or something, I didn't wanna pry too much, so I just gave them their pastries and endured the quiet ride home, I could make out the tears on M's face, what they were from, I'm not sure, but I was insistent upon telling her daughter how much I appreciated seeing her and hoped it wouldn't be the last time. M handed me gas money for the trip...what the fuck? I may need money, but I sure as fuck don't want yours. As she grabbed stuff out of the car, I quietly stood next to her daughter and slid the cash into her hand. I have no clue what impact this may have had on her, if any. It would be the last I would hear from M for a little while, cus I don't like initiating texting with people cus it's just not my thing, I don't like putting pressure on people like that, I'd prefer to call or get together, it feels more human that way. I personally can't stand the winter months, so let's just jump to April.

April 2016:

The whole food prep client thing was dying, my patience was wearing thin and so was my cash. I had become less and less attached to humanity with each passing day. So early on the morning of April 19th, I received a message from M saying that it's best that we don't speak anymore. I asked her what she wanted, she replied that she doesn't want anything from me. I can't go thru all the “he said, she said”, because it would take forever, but our communication obviously wasn't in the same language, I was very clear about what I wanted and was ready for long term whenever it was available to me, her decision making was questionable, secretive and non-committal and that's being kind. Once again I was left with that empty feeling inside my head, but this time with a growing anger that read like a magazine cover across my face. There I was, standing in my front lawn almost coming to blows with my final food prep client, I was becoming more greedy with how I wanted to spend my free time and it led to a tightening of my fist. I was standing there in full view of the public, one snapped twig, one small shove, one cross word away from putting four white knuckles across a woman's face. I put my head down, walked upstairs, locked all the doors, turned my phone off and bled my heart of all emotion. People didn't matter anymore, Chivalry was dead to me, I wrote one final article and tried to disappear. At this moment, Positive Sarcasm and it's entire promising network of content...was dead.

May 2016:

I could go days without talking, not muttering a single word to another human being. No matter where I went, I could accomplish zero human interaction. At the gym, headphones were on, brim was down and I didn't stay very long. At home, Beth was so wrapped up in her now dead relationship and we had very different schedules, so by the time she was home, I was in my room asleep, habitually slept and still do sleep with the door open, she would watch TV and I would be hoping to sleep at least six hours.. At the beach I would set up my stuff and put in my ear buds and lie there all day not saying a word, at the store I would use self-checkout, at Starbucks I would use the app, grab my coffee and go sit outside, I was purposely nothing more than a name on a receipt. People would call, but I wouldn't answer. The Jay Cutler Classic in Boston came and went without my presence.

The longer a person goes without putting effort into certain things, the more perverse and dark their mindset can become, this proves to still be a factor with me, so I figured it best to just stay away from people altogether and not get tangled up in there lives, however the more I ran away from all those people, I would run eventually into others, also less I went out, the more I noticed my body physically changing, as I had just dumped a huge emotional load to the side and filled my entire heart and mind with a more aggressive and point blank approach to life.

One day, while at the ocean, I decided to make a phone call...

June 2016:

I don't fully grasp how he was able to do it, but Bobby had managed to put together a life free of financial stress, a castle in the clouds and a V8 Convertible to pierce thru the highway of bullshit that life tends to throw at the slowpokes. We sat down like men over Cigars, Scotch and I absorbed everything that he told me. The power of a cigar can never be truly measured. It's truth wafts thru the air and with it you can tell right away who is of good moral value...and who is completely full of shit. I only brought a small bit of research to the table that evening, we discussed a new business venture for myself, completely separate from everything else I've done, something I could replicate with little effort at a moments notice. “Just shut up and do it.”, he said. So that's what I did, I set up an entire lab for stuff I could jar and sell, made sure I had all the legal stuff ready to go, took all my prototypes and nailed it down to one easy to make product and quietly started collecting the essentials for packaging. So as the side project reemerged as something more promising, I also made a plan to visit the doctors “unofficially” to see how my body had recovered from all the crap I put it thru. Ever since the debacle of 2014, I had pulled away from family cus it was too much to handle. I treated everything like it was a task, family included. Regardless, I felt it was time to make a trip to Carolina and visit family, but it wasn't my only reason for going there. A quiet little mission had conveniently made it's way into my plans. Since April, my nutritional habits had veered towards a more Keto style meal prep with fewer carbs, and higher amounts of decent fat sources, plus the weather was improving, so I could go for a nice walk in the morning on an empty stomach. This didn't feel like a stress at all, so I maintained to the point where I losing about a half pound of body fat per week. I never stopped food prepping for myself so staying on top of my physique was not a huge task. As long as I kept my stress levels down, competing again seemed more like a possibility with each passing week. I didn't want to do any shows anywhere even near The Northeast for that could bring my stress level up, but with Bobby having done my tan for the New Englands in 2014, my new knowledge of which products to use and an improving knowledge of food, I asked him to fly with me down to Charleston, South Carolina for a show called “The Excalibur”. No one was to know, not even Bruno. I practiced my own posing, did my own diet, (better than last time) ditched all that High Intensity Cardio bullshit and stuck with Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for a nice afternoon beating. Bobby's response to my request was the same one he always gave me, “Yeah, sure just lemme know.”

...fucking Bobby.

July 2016:

My desire to eat any bad foods or talk to anything with a Vagina were at an all time low. I was truly focused on the task at hand. I was gonna start a new company and give the people a product they could truly appreciate and have in their home on the regular all while preparing for a possible return to NPC Men's Physique. All the prep in the world doesn't get you ready for standing in front of hundreds of people on stage in just a pair of shorts. It can be nerve wracking for many, but the NPC is the only league that takes Modern Physique seriously, the other leagues as well as the competitors tend to treat it as more of a joke. Plus the NPC has the best competitors, I would still go in with a natural physique, cus that's just my code. I don't care if the kid next to me is 200 pounds with Steroid Shoulders, I'll stand right next to him at 170 with a legit chance of beating him, I've done it before and I'll do it again.

Yet there was more to be done. If you think starting a new business and prepping for a fitness show will occupy all of my time, we've clearly never met. Since April, my fuel tank had started to fill up, most of my fuel stemmed from anger, but it was fuel either way and I planned to use it. Sitting around and being sad is for fucking pussies and doesn't help anybody. It doesn't help society, but most importantly, it doesn't help me. So it was time to raise the PS flag, It was important tho that if I were to raise the banner that it would stay up for good. No running away, no being taken as a joke, no being afraid of someone being offended or not calling out those who deserved it. I would bring the writing back, I would bring in collaborators for certain projects, I would resurrect and clean up every part of the website and offer my services to whomever required them. It would take a lot of time, equipment and money. I scraped together whatever I could and built a physical and portable approach to each part of the website. For what I couldn't afford or operate, I would have collaborators come in to fill in the gaps. I've already lost a lot in my life...I wasn't losing fucking way. On July 21st, I took to social media and made the announcement. That is when my phone lit up with questions, some people excited to see my content again, others were worried about what I would say.

August 2016:

Flight booked. Show Registered. Everything was set, it wasn't without Bobby that this was all possible. It was the opportunity to see if I had the ability to still compete with all the changes the sport has gone thru. I had certainly made some mistakes thru this prep, but it was far more successful than the last time and I was about 8 pounds heavier than the disaster of 2015, plus no one familiar was around to give me any stress. It also gave my roommate Beth some much needed free time, cus her boyfriend, Nick was driving her crazy by taking off every chance he could get, like a beagle off it's leash, only with half of the brain and a fraction of the loyalty. So time away from my crazy ass would almost certainly be beneficial. I had setup several photo shoots with my newest collaborator Myrina Jalbert for after I had returned from South Carolina. I was pumped to see how my approach would work opposed to how others prep during the week of the show. I packed as much food as I could for the flight down, Bobby is always up for an adventure, so he was ready to rock out to whatever I had planned. Since my diet consisted of almost no carbohydrates, it took a few days for my body to fill out, cus I like to run around in the towns that I visit, a lot of people sit in there hotel rooms and count their macros and all that crap, that can stress anyone out, so I tried a different approach, we went down to Isle of Palms across from Charleston and rented a couple scooters after visiting the Yorktown Museum and drove around the island bare chested like a bunch of idiots for over two hours, we accidentally jumped on the highway and crashed our scooters into each other, causing Bobby's to stall. We didn't care. It was high time in Sushi Town and after trashing the scooters for two hours, we went back to trashing the rental car, fucked up one of the tires, returned it and got another rental car and proceeded to trash that shit box as well. Reasons to travel with Bobby: He's got the money to go anywhere, he's got the open mindedness to try anything...except for Burning Man, not sure what his thoughts are on that. I don't hear no from him often, other than “No Problem” or “No way I'm going to miss that shit show!” We went from not speaking for almost two years to having some serious bro-ventures together. I also need to mention his impressive ability to put on Pro-Tan, the product I use to make myself look darker under stage lights. Who needs an expensive spray tan when you have “Bobby Bronze”? Kid can do anything, if he wanted to be a physique athlete, he would be a class winner, he's just that intelligent. He just chooses to be a Scotch and Cigar Connoisseur...which is probably healthier than most of what we do backstage and the gorging we do afterwards.

Anyways, back to the story. One giant plate of Korean BBQ, three coats of Pro Tan and off to bed I went...

...Saturday Morning came with less stress than I anticipated.

I was lean enough to not look terrible, better than I ever looked onstage. We strolled into the Sottile Theater with a slight Caffeine buzz and made our way backstage to where we would eventually be segregated by division. All the Physique dudes got there own room and we bonded rather quickly. Jason Rapuso had a million dollar smile and was quick to soak in my backstage personality. I get a bit chatty when I'm back there. It helps keep the stress level low and helps pass the time so your not thinking about stupid stuff. I did miss the smell of the tanning products and the odd brotherhood that comes with being behind the curtain, but make no mistake, I want hardware. I didn't fly down to Charleston, South Carolina for a free fucking donut.

Why I didn't register for Novice class as well, I have no clue, cus that sinking feeling when your standing there in 7th place is not one I tend to enjoy, cus at that moment you have no clue how far off you are from being a first call out, your just cast aside like a sock with a hole in it. Novice class would have dropped me right in 3rd place and I would be shipping a Dagger shaped trophy to my old posing coach, Bruno. I still to this day kick myself for not adding that extra class. No trophy for the black boarding shorts today...but they may have a chance in the near future. In my personal opinion, the shows in the Southern Region are run more efficiently and reward competitors with much superior hardware than up in the cheap ass Northeast. I'll be back for that dagger someday, hopefully Bobby will be with me for one final time.

We ran around town buying bread, wine, cigars, donuts, pastries as Bobby chased Pokemon in the park.

After a big bowl of Ramen Soup, we hopped in the rental and crushed two hours south of Charleston to the small town of Conway, where my parents reside. The excitement of today's festivities began to dissipate as my father, once a wrestler, a cop, a stiff necked Sicilian, now rolling on a tennis ball walker and memories of the past. A misdiagnosis had allowed the cancer to spread from his hip and starve him of his ability to be a man. He spent his whole life working towards retirement, but no one ever taught him how to properly live it. He wrongfully assumed that the pensions and all that other bullshit would take care of my mother in his final days, we would later learn that this wasn't the case. So as we would check in with him every day as he watched old movies from his bedroom, Bobby and I took off with my mother's Mustang and blasted straight for Myrtle Beach. Fuck it, we were on vacation.

I realized that week that I could still compete, I could still place well, just needed to tweak my diet a bit and tighten my posing a bit. No more dead lasts for me. I wasn't built for that. So when we returned home from South Carolina, I wanted to really push my creative boundaries, I didn't want the word “no” to be a strong fixture in my vocabulary. However random texts from M would continue to pop up and send me into a desperate rage, always ending with me more confused and pissed than the one before it. It would eventually come to a serious, I wasn't sure yet, it would bleed somewhat into my photo shoots, although I must admit, despite Myrina just getting to know what I was like as a creator, she handled my short temper rather well, but with the colder weather approaching and her having to go deal with some real life shit, we put a halt to the collaboration so that she could go put her life back together, something I have been trying to do for the last three years.

Since I returned home, pretty much everyone I knew was splitting up. Josh Brown was entering the world of divorce, Beth had more complications with that meat head bigot fucktard from Quincy, Bobby called off his engagement, plus Zack and Lindsay split up. So many others had cut ties as well, but I can't name them all, because the body count was just too high. I may have recovered from that little brain issue, but some scars still hurt when you touch them. So all this affected me greatly...hold on I'm getting a text...guess who?

December 2016:

The black truck that hasn't graced my front entrance for just over one year was now idling outside after a phone call made in my direction asked for coffee. I hopped in nervously and sat beside M near the lake as the snow began to fall. I made it clear what she needed to do to get her shit together and that if I don't hear from her, communication with me would become more difficult as I still to this day have a weak heart for past company. I looked at her one more time and walked up the stairs. I had no desire to write, I had done a little bit of video work, so I desperately began to explore the possibility of doing a weekly vlog on youtube, since the podcast was stale and still awaiting consistent guests, I pieced together a small amount of gear and learned how I could put together a decent amount of content in an area that really isn't New York City or Los Angeles. I made do with what I had, to this day, I don't get a ton of views, but its made me money, sharpened my skills and oddly enough, given me exposure with producers at ABC and Good Morning America. My skills have definitely sharpened since that garbage first episode and I haven't wavered from improving all aspects of my website, as the posing music has a true passion and has given me an ever welcoming hand within the fitness community. At this point, it was whatever I could do to keep my brain busy.

January 2017:

4 weeks into my vlog, I get a phone call from my brother, “We have sort of a situation going on with dad in South Carolina, dad is...terminal.”

I packed up my gear and flew down to Myrtle Beach with my brother and sister. The scent of impending death lingered thru the air. Since this whole journey began three years ago, I had distanced myself from all family members as I was embarrassed about being homeless, penny-less and fiance-less. So the deterioration of my fathers condition seemed more rapid from my perspective. Sleep was his hobby now, morphine was his diet. We had an ambulance bring his lingering soul back to the house and made him as comfortable as possible. My mother started handing us stuff like it was spring cleaning, I didn't really want anything. I took one photo of my father when he picked up our late cocker spaniel who passed in December and that was about it.

Imagine watching the sunset knowing that when It reached the horizon, it would never return. That's about as best as I can describe it. We had to catch a flight later that week and as my fathers internal clock was in it's final stages, I looked over his weakening frame as my fathers eyes stared lazily towards the ceiling. I dunno if he heard what I said to him, but I put my hand on his chest, told him with a stone cold face that I would improve upon all his teachings and that I would never let anyone make a fool of our last name again. I glanced over him one last time and walked right out the door, zero emotion on my face or in the words to my mother, “let's go.”

One Week later, my mother calls me while I'm home editing that weeks vlog, “Daddy passed away this morning.”

...The Beautiful Bastard had left us.

February 2017:

I found that the only way I could show emotion was thru my video work, so I allowed for my vlog to have a more dramatic theme at times, deeming it necessary to allow parts of my real life in it and be completely open with the general public as it would most obviously affect how I would write and record video. So when it came to dealing with M (or lack there of), I thought hard about who was there for me and didn't have to be, who wasn't bound by the obligation of blood or law. My niece and I were tighter than a twisty on a loaf of bread, Bobby was clearly a lifetime bro, Beth despite her awful track record with men, was more genuine with me than most women in my life as she was to leave me with the keys to my first home in three years, Zack and I became super tight after January and was the first from my gauntlet of shows to give me a bedroom. Bruno I'll punch babies for, he knows that.

Who wasn't there? Every single fucking time I was in a bad way, who seemed to be off filling herself up with more Booze and bullshit with each passing day. I sat on that infamous park bench by the river and finally used the strength of my brain to compensate for the weakness in my heart...odd that Verizon only allows you to block a phone number for 90 days, but instagram lets you do it for life. I figured stacking the two would do the trick...welcome to Week 11.

March 2017:

This month was full speed ahead, I had no time for bullshit.

I was so focused on putting stability into my life so that I could focus on creating, that was my greatest asset. I could always create and I wasn't afraid to explore any topic or ask any question or go after anyone I deemed to be full of shit. When she messaged me via facebook, it was a slap in the face. “Why is it so hard to just be my friend?”

Men and women can't be friends, that's a horseshit cop-out. They can be acquaintances, but a friendship is more likely to be lopsided. I stood my ground, said that'll never happen, my wants are clear, I've seen no effort and I've done this already a half dozen times. I will not stand by and be friend zoned why they go pig it up on the other side of town. Fuck that. No more lazy social media messages. That's for 12 year olds. When I blocked her, I didn't feel relief, elation nor any other good vibe. I felt anger. How was I so gullible? I know laziness when I see it, but my ability to spot bullshit needed some improvement.

Lesson Learned.


This is life, it's fucked. I use to have the ability to block things out and not let thoughts get to me, but after all the damage I did to myself, my brain has never been the same, I can't unsee these things. They walk with me wherever I go. Certain things in the background of my eyesight can make me clench my fist. So after three years of being able to properly absorb everything to myself and others around me, these are my official thoughts on this whole journey if that's what you want to call it.

Brace yourselves...

It's one thing to be dumped and sent packing, it happens to all of us. The truth is I was betrayed, deceived and conspired against. I was made to believe that I was solely responsible for my failed relationship with Andrea, that I wasn't a deep enough soul. That I didn't understand her, that I was unknowingly given multiple chances; so I threw all my possessions in the trash, believing I didn't deserve them, sending me on some stupid redemption tour to hopefully win her back by stepping on stage where she once did. Great plan, Joey.

If I would known that there was another man already in her, it would have certainly explained why her pussy started to smell like a traveling carny running a Tilt-a-Whirl at the fairgrounds. He was already there in the shadow; which means every decision made within that home was done with an ulterior motive and once I was out the door for good, he was there where I once laid my head at night. Your new stepdaddy's here! I'll just slide right in, eat at your table, sit in your living room, watch your TV, brush my teeth in your sink and since I'm already penetrating your girlfriend...I'll just keep doing that. So much for that engagement ring. Never mind the fact that this wasn't revealed to me until I was backstage in Boston six months later when Bruno took me aside and brought me up to date of what had transpired.

We all as people think about these things over and over, we generally just don't admit to them, we reveal them to the general public in some unrecognizable way, in a selfie or some bullshit inspirational quote that was stolen from a book they never read or a Rocky movie they never watched. My thoughts are right up front. As far as I'm concerned with Andrea, it's crossed my mind on several occasions over the last few years that if all the adults in the Dalhberg family were to die in a house fire, pissing on the ashes would've seemed to be the suitable ceremony they would deserve. They were either too ignorant or too involved. Both make you guilty. The cover-up is always worse than the crime and as they are a family of deep Catholics, good luck to you at the Pearly Gates, assholes.

Those are my official and final thoughts on that subject.

And what of Melissa? What kind of person was she? Was she just a lost soul trying to pick up the pieces from a troubled past? Or was she just some bruised uterus, a back of the refrigerator carton of Chinese leftovers that aspires to be nothing more than a dent in a headboard?

I can't sum it up any better than saying it was a lie. She was a lie, verbally, spiritually, emotionally, physically, just kept tossing more bullshit onto the pile until there was a wall.

My heart may still be weak, but my brain has now recovered enough to know when I'm about to be fed something with an unsavory aftertaste.

I have made many allies and clearly pointed out my enemies. I've pulled myself and where I sleep off the ground, I chose to not only dive into all the circles of my own personal hell, but I was somehow able to coherently journal most of it and share it with you, the reader. I fully admit that all these people have one thing in It was my fault. I met these people, I chose to put my trust in them. I decided to take chances with them. I could have just walked away and not given it a second thought. So in the end, I completely absorb the blame. Doesn't make anything right. I will not preach to you right or wrong, good vs bad. This is life, it's insane as well as the choices we make during it. I lived it knowing very well that others have lived much worse, but I'm not them and they're not me.

This is where it ends. My story may not be completely over, but this series is. Whatever version of me surfaces after this is all over, I hope he makes a difference...but, for now, I better tighten my shoelaces... for it's gonna be an awfully long walk home.


'We hustle, we fight, we live and die by the light.

We struggle, we claw, we work our hands and minds till they are raw

Outside of the norm may be a better life. A car, a home, a yard, a wife.

Tho your not meant to chase their dreams only your own, u still work your abilities to the Bone.

Then one day it's taken away. You now own nothing so you look to the sky, your quivering mind can only ask why.

When no answer arrives, you begin that long trek while recounting the moments from your past lives, muttering the lyrics from a song that last played before it all went wrong.

Your armor is gone and without your cloak, you wander thru reality mirroring a joke, whom others choose to question, doubt, prod and poke.

Now you want answers, now you seek the truth, you become a detective, an investigator, an emotional sleuth.

As u begin to reveal answers, for a life thought to be true, you question the motives of all those now and once around you.

The truth is the most expensive item you can buy and the price skyrockets when you realize it was all a lie.

A new body and mind are born that fateful day as your previous self will rapidly decay.

You now have no master, you have no Lord, for the evidence of truth has become your armor, as well as your sword.

For now you are nimble, now you are light, ready at all times will your body and mind be awaken to fight.

Now you are dangerous, because your purpose seems true, you seek aggressively to reclaim what has been taken from you.

Do not give an inch, go the extra mile, isolate the demons whose acts are so deceptively vile.

You were never the norm, but you are now the storm. For without the cold, they'll never be the warm.

In such a crusade, you'll make mistakes, at times you'll lose your way, but if you stay true to the path paved during the night, the peace you sought all along will warmly greet you as a brand new day.'


- Positive Sarcasm



It's a beautiful, crisp Saturday afternoon by the ocean. As always, I show up over-prepared and properly energetic with a slight attitude. I'm a bit of a diva during a photoshoot, I tend to get prickly when things are missing or the process is taking too long or someone isn't prepared. This day was looking promising tho. With the combination of blue skies and my blue eyes...What could go wrong?


It was decided that the next shoot would be of an intense nature, no stereotypical gym scene or loner shots staring stupidly off into nothing like last time. It was time to tear shit up on the boardwalk and in the seaside hotel room. The goal of the shoot was simple, start off by the water in evening wear, then make our way into the city for some nighttime evening gown gorgeousness (not on me), then when we return to the hotel, we would seemingly tear the place to pieces in a champagne fueled, sweat dripping shit-show that would make Vanity Fair look like a children's book. Well at least this Diva was ready to own the camera, the other arrived late...with a headache...which I later contracted.


Rule number one, show up on time.

Rule number two, show up practiced and prepared.

Rule number three, don't go back on your word.


Failure of Rule One: Cinderella was supposed to show up around 3pm; which gave us substantial time in daylight before transitioning towards the evening wear in the city. Well Snow White showed up around quarter of five as the September sun quickly deteriorated into the ether. Now the feeling of being rushed during a shoot is a total mojo killer. The photographer has to adjust their position faster now that the light is starting to dissipate. We still had to travel another twenty minutes to our evening destination, so we were losing precious light during our travels, costing us potential quality shots. I was a pro though, ready to change clothes and hop in the car at a moments notice.


Failure of Rule Two: Sleeping Beauty has some health issues where she gets chronic migraines if she doesn't eat or is overtired. I, of course, showed up like a true Physique Competitor, pre-prepped meals, plenty of caffeine and a little booze to take the edge off, if needed. All my clothes fit perfectly and my shoes were recently polished, plus a fresh shave to top off my readiness. Sadly, Alice was truly in Wonderland when she chose several beautiful evening dresses...that she hadn't worn since prom. So leaning over on the beach or doing anything photoshoot friendly was essentially nullified. You would also think she'd at least throw a burger down her throat before showing up to disappoint us, but her ever-growing headache combined with my rapidly decreasing patience was pretty evident in the photographer's photos.


Failure of Rule Three: After feeding two weeks worth of bullshit to our photographer who had already paid for the oceanfront hotel, Rapunzel laid down the Gauntlet the minute she walked into the room after arriving late, announcing that she didn't feel comfortable doing the underwear portion of the shoot, because she didn't want to disrespect her boyfriend...yeah, because that always stops them. Pocahontas was fully aware of the terms of the shoot and the effort that was put forward to make this shoot a delicious three-layered cake for the eyes to feast on, but instead we were left with a giant pile of shit that exploded in the oven. It would have been amazing for everyone's portfolios and now the photos look less appealing than evidence from a murder scene. Someone call CSI: New England, cus this Little Fucking Mermaid just shot this whole photoshoot to shreds, finally climaxing with our photographer dumping all her camera gear on the ground, signifying an uncomfortable walk back to my Saab...the only reliable thing that whole damn evening.


My take on mastering this collection of photoshoots was to mix reality and plausible fantasy instead of the same old processed cheese that gets easy attention, easy likes, and sympathetic publicity. I wanted to push some boundaries and not leave any ideas on the table, unless the plan was to break or burn the table. Shock is important to an extent, but without back story and attention to detail, your left with just a grainy dick pic. After this disaster had passed, I might as well have gone into the bathroom and pointed my camera phone towards the inside of my boxer briefs.


Your on social media and you see all these perfect photoshoots, with perfect makeup, perfect clothing, perfect editing, perfect posing and perfect emotion. This entire day almost went unused. As I drove back to the hotel fuming, I was desperately thinking about how to salvage this waste of time and resources. Well here you are...


I present to you...a photoshoot from Hell.