Listen, it's the same story you already know so well. Overbearing ego paired with crippling self doubt. When I tell people I'm a writer, they assume fame and fortune aren't important values of mine, but they're wrong. I'm in it for the glory. That, and the ethereal catharsis provided by uninhibited self expression.
I've never felt a feeling that didn't knock me off my feet. Last week, I cried on the G train listening to "Bennie and the Jets" because I didn't get to experience the 70s. Weeks before, I sat down on Rivington en route to an art show in the dead of winter, gathering my hair in my hands as I struggled to cope with the chaos of reality.
Authenticity from every individual poses the only hope for saving what I see as an ailing society. I have overcome a great deal of emotional hardship to achieve the clarity I strive to present you with. When I'm not tearing at the seams, I write about street art. I write personal essays. I like modeling and making art when the mood is right. Check out the pages on my sidebar to find my work.