Best Friend

The COVID experiment gave me nine months off. I’m always working on something. I was thinking about Chelsea asking me who my best friend was. After thinking about it I said “Me”. She was like Naw, it’s me or something like that and I thought that she was crazy.

Bro I’m 100% my best friend. My first and best friend outside of my family was Dorian. By then I was 10 years old. In those ten years I spent a majority of my time at home with Donna. I consumed whatever she consumed or fucked off to my room. If I wasn’t doing homework I was thinking about girls, my life, self-esteem, how to have a good fucking time, and how to get better. … The setting was set by the time I met Dorian.

We vibed instantly from my recollection. That was my first nigga. He lived sorta around the corner from me when I moved to Churchland Street. Lemington Elementary was right behind our house. I could wake up, think about school, get dressed, and be there in four minutes. That was kinda clutch. A ten minute saunter away lived my Grandma. If I wasn’t at home I was there.

Friday Night was the Sabbath so I wasn’t doing SHIT. I was either at home consuming Bible related content with Donna or thinking. THE END. Every Saturday at 11 I was at church. Where the fuck else would I be?! Can’t skip God and then go fuck off somewhere. Nigga will see you… There was no reason nor would there be a reason for me not to be in church on Saturday.

Hillcrest is a small church nestled on one of the many hills overlooking the ever growing Hill District. (Yeeeahhh… real estate life shining through) With that said, there were less than two hundred people in that church. Hell, maybe even less than a hundo.

My idea of church family extended beyond those walls though. Across town in Wilkinsburg was Ethnan Temple. They were the only other Seventh-Day Adventist church I knew of. They had a much bigger population and much larger building from what I recall. Shit looked dope next to our rinky dink facility on the Hill. Either way since there were only two of us there was a silent rivalry. On Saturday I was either at my church, visiting a church out of town, or visiting Ethnan Temple.

My cousins went to Hillcrest so I wasn’t escaping the family. My Aunt Leslie attended with my cousins David, Karen, and Kristopher. Saturdays at 11a service started. I’d be up on Saturday eating, getting ready for church, and then at church. I thought church was boring until I was at teenager. I do remember our preachers and deacons being pretty intelligent. One pastor in particular stood out to me, Pastor Moffet (probably butchered the spelling). I remember our community being pretty smart in general. We weren’t a flash and bang church, we had discussions.

Saturday was filled with family, God, Bible related content, eating good food, and waiting for the sun to go down. At least when the sun went down I could talk about something worldly out in the open with my bros. I wasn’t at Club Zoo celebrating. I was still either at home, at a family member’s, or at church with the niggas. Saturday nights were always so cool to me because of the fun I had. I would watch a movie with my mom or play a game or do something cool with church family. On Sundays I did homework.

Fuck Sunday. I didn’t even know football was a thing because every Sunday I was doing homework. That or trying not to do homework. I had one day to cram all of it in. I at least made time for me and watched Pokemon. That’s all I remember being fun on Sundays… Pokemon.

Monday I’d be back in that weak ass school. I have memories of Lemington Elementary but really I don’t. I was almost non existent in elementary school. None of those niggas were my friends. I brought my healthy packed lunch to school in a red Rubbermaid container with its cloudy top and lil handle to grab on to. When I opened that motherfucker my classmates would gasp. What smelled excellent and delicious to me smelled weird to them. Everything else about me was just as weird to them and germane to me.

I had no friends in that school. I don’t even remember feeling bothered by it. Fuck these niggas, I had the Hicks family. Down the street from Lemington I could walk to my Grandma’s house. In there contained the Hicks(es?). This is important because these niggas are crazy. All of them. I was raised by a funny, aggressive, close knit group with unlimited personality. If I wasn’t with them I was at church, with my momma at home, or in my room alone. This went on for about ten years.

Middle school was just the next progression for me. I didn’t realize how much my mom pushed for me to get good education. The school she vied for me to get into was carved right out of the lush and beautiful Point Breeze neighborhood. At Sterrett Classical Academy I met Dorian. He lived right around the corner from me apparently. He was the first friend not from my clan.

At Sterrett I was in awe. I remember it being the first time I woke up in school. That and girls in that school were hot and developing. I was so used to seeing mostly black people that these Jew hoes and Russian hoes and Italian hoes and Turkish hoes were blowing my … oh yeah, and the white hoes… they were a new flavor. I always wanted to fuck Fran Drescher but to meet her?

That’s was middle school for me. From the moment I got there to when I left I remember being presented hard work. Middle school was the toughest education I received. Dorian was there getting straight A’s and still being cool as shit. I didn’t understand how one could be both, be all, and be so funny!

That nigga Dorian had me in stitches. I remember spending nights over his house laughing so hard all I could do was hold my aching stomach and roll on the floor laughing some more. Bro, how fortunate! Nigga was smart, knew VAAASTLY more about anything popular than me, and had good taste. How did I FIND this nigga? His family was cool as shit too.

I got lucky finding Dorian, getting into this school, meeting new people, and seeing different hoes. Apparently I got in trouble for talking a lot in school and the more I talk about it I can see why. I’m excited right now! I gained so many new friends at Sterrett. Dorian will tell you I disappeared some summers and I did. I was always on a mission, even if I had to abandon my best friend.

At the end of those days, no matter what day, whether Saturday after church or cracking up at my family or chasing hoes at school or hanging with my mom, I would always end up in my room by myself. Every single day I was waking up, experiencing the vast array of life’s offerings, and ending it in my room. I had a lot to think about and a lot of time to do it.

That lifestyle extended into my adulthood. I spent waaay more time with people after high school, despite having a burgeoning network already. I had enough time in my world and I was going to explore others'. I was everywhere, all the time, experiencing all that I could. From 17 years old to COVID I was running through the streets in epic fashion. Most nights, if not every night, I came home to myself and my thoughts.

My thoughts never left me. My mind is my office. All of my work is done there. While running the streets I had to do fast math and be decisive. I was living a life that only I could follow. In order for me to get the kind of research and experiences I wanted to I had to go alone. I could only trust my eyes and my judgment.

Anyway when Chelsea asked me who my best friend was I was taken aback when she thought she was. LOL. I spent 95% of my time alone. This life is work, a product from a good crop, continually improving since day one.


No one could go on this journey with me. It has been a one-man mission from the jump. Solid Snake with a knife in his teeth. Jack Reacher with the toothbrush. 

I love my life and what I’ve done. I’d love to share it with people who get me. I’ve found some dope people. I’m usually by myself but I’m never alone.






















Man, I need a geeb. The pogoers are gone so I can dance in the kitchen undisturbed. Tik, tok...

Hard Work (March 10, 2020)

Lazy doesn’t begin to describe me. At 33 years old I’ve done nothing. I’ve fucked a few girls, been to a place or two, did a few drugs and didn’t die. Some who know me would say I’m funny. Other people would say I’m a nice guy. I think both camps would agree that I’m weird. Still I’ve done nothing with my life. I’m lazy as fuck.

I’m doing laundry today. Man I’m really going for it. I walked two floors down, fumbled with some keys, opened a door, walked to a basement, placed four quarters in a machine and then walked the three floors back up to my apartment. I’m about to see if I can retire from chores. I’m shouting "Oh, he’s got to win MVP if he puts them in the dryer" as I reach my apartment. I light the already half smoked bowl and celebrate.


I’ve always been as lazy as I am today. Hard work is as annoying as the people who always do it. Kobe Bryant is gnawing at my subconscious but I gotta do what I gotta… I HATE hard work.


From what I understand the cycle of hard work goes as follows. 1. Do the hard work. 2. Improve at the hard work. 3. Love the hard work because 4. There’s only hard work. Hard working people exhaust me with their lifestyle choices. There seems to be no leisure involved. When I think of hard working people I picture them getting up early to start their day, a regimented schedule, sweat already by 5 a.m., books on tape while in transit, thermometers on a vision board mapping out progress, working out during lunch breaks and so on until a late 10p sleep time. I’d almost rather die than to be that.


I can do work. Hard, long (settle down), all day work. At T-Mobile I was a “Retail Sales Associate” but in actuality I was a mini manager with terrible sales acumen. At Two Men and a Truck Dorian and I would sometimes work from 8a to 8p lifting heavy furniture and having minimal breaks. My job at Goodwill was to lift stuff with no help for eight hours. That job I kept for a year. If hard needs to be done for sure I can do it.


It’s from all the hard work that I’ve seen and done in my life that I am so averse to it. I understand what needs to happen for things to get done. Thinking about how things can fail or succeed is an exercise I do daily. If I’m to do hard work it requires a lot of focus, dedication and precision. Anything less than All is an insult to the thing that I’m working on. Outside of beating my dick there is nothing in the world I want to work hard with.


Right now I’m 33 with no money, no career, no car and like two almost jobs. This is hardly working for me.

Starting Over

I feel like I’m at the beginning. Like I pressed a reset button. I’m back to zero and working towards one. At work whisking through aisles I become reminiscent. Well, why not? Everyone around me is 20 years old. Either they just left high school or are still in it. They'll all look back fondly one day at their time working at a grocery store. I’m just starting now. 

I live by myself. Finally! There’s something to boast about. Some of these kids still live at home or with their roommates. I can rub that in their face at least. They'll laugh at me snubbing them while I walk my ass to the T. I need all the mental edge I can get. I have to justify why we’re on the same level. 

In some weird magic eight ball scenario I envisioned this. After spending night after night in a T-Mobile store with seemingly no escape, my dreams died. The best I thought I could do was walk into a job and charm my way to the top. With my credentials I can do that at a grocery store. 

Literally, I was hired in a fire sale. Giant Eagle was giving away jobs. The company they commissioned to organize the sale even offered to pay us (still don’t know when that’s coming, hurrumph). Me and some nigga who left the state and came back 30 years later like witness protection were hired at the same time, no questions. I think I was asked “Did you fill out an application online,” and “What job do you want?”

As long as I didn’t molest kids I was in. My piss wasn’t even tested. I scribbled down jobs dating back to the Reagan era on a beer cooler just to get rejected by a distributor. All Giant Eagle wanted to know was “WHAT HOURS DO YOU WANT?” 


I’m a 34 year old, straight of out high school, genius baby. My knees and life experience project the 34 years and my resume shows that I lived in Pittsburgh. My life is running through aisles, talking to pretty teenagers, waking up early and doing just enough work to get by. I haven’t just gone backwards, I’ve started over.

Letter to 14 Year-Old Julian (April 17, 2020)

Dear 14 Year-Old Julian,


You’re fucked. I’m just kidding. Hi, this is your future self. I’m almost two decades older than you and a lot is going to happen, not just in your life but in the world around you.


None of that fucking matters though. You’re the GOAT. My bad, it’s 2000 or 2001 where you are. GOAT is an acronym for “Greatest of All Time” which is usually used by sports writers. You’re that. Those questions, those never-ending questions, they’ll be answered in time. All of those feelings, emotions and thoughts will make sense the more experience you get with yourself and the world. Trust me, you’ll be getting experience.


The world is about to change something fierce with the internet. Here’s an example. I’m typing this letter on a laptop computer. The laptop is connected to the internet and the world wide web has waaaay more sites than I could’ve imagined at your age.


About an hour ago I was able to download 40some pictures onto an online storage unit that I pay $10/month for called Dropbox. Those 40 or so pictures were downloaded within one minute. I can pull up videos from websites and have them look crispier than that “Matrix” DVD, all within seconds of thinking about it. These things are a far cry from mom’s computer with its slow ass music downloads.


Now, imagine everything that you can do with a computer. In the years to come you’ll be able to do all of that and more on a mobile phone. That’s right, no more bus schedules or Map Quests since Google (you’ll see) has damn near perfected Google Maps. I won’t go into detail but cellular phones (or cell phones) will be better than a Dick Tracy watch and everyone will have one.


I hope I’m not boring you...us...you know. Boredom will never be a problem. Currently I’m in the year 2020 and for reasons I won’t get into I’m at home by myself a lot. Between video games (they’re sooo good now) and the massive usage I can get from the internet, I’m always able to look at the vast world around me. There’s never a dull moment.



But I’ll get to the important part, girls. In my 33 years of living, girls have taken an almost lion share of my energy. If you’re anything like me (hehe) it will take up yours too. You’ll probably figure this out (or you know it already) but be yourself. Being me has taken me to places I never thought I’d be. I told you you’re the GOAT and its true. Girls like you now, believe it or not. Girls will continue to like you. If you pan out just as you have been up until 14 you’ll continue to develop people skills, be funny, charming, honest, trustworthy, open, diverse and have a keen eye for things. You’ll still jerk off everyday, don’t get it twisted.



I could probably write you a book on girls but what’s the fun in that? Most of your greatest moments will be failures, even if you do differently than me. Failure is necessary. You will fail countless times in search for your place in life, hopefully everyone will. You being fear averse is going to help you build up courage. At 14, if I remember correctly, I was a little bitch. I wouldn’t even walk up to a girl I liked or say anything. If I could rewrite my life differently and go back to your age, I would fail more. You’ll understand soon. Get out there and experiment. What won’t kill you will give you wisdom. In 2020, with basically a Library of Alexandria at everyone’s fingertips, people are still dumb as fuck. Wisdom will still be scarce.



The only issue I have at 33 is trying to figure out a career path. I still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m waiting on some unemployment money (as is everyone else, you’ll see) and am about $200 short on rent. Before this period I was working at a restaurant as a server. It’s not as fun as it seems but the money is plentiful and I would honestly recommend you get into this industry before you turn 30. As nice as the industry is its a young man’s game with long shifts that require a lot of energy. Also there’s hella hoes.



I’m 33 now and I’m looking back on the life I’ve had since I was 14. You’re certainly in for a ride, my friend. The best advice I can give is to be you, start a stretching routine now, drink loads of water, shy away from alcohol (believe it or not I drank a lot in my 20s, yuck) and be brutally honest with yourself. Honesty requires a lot of work that you are more than capable of. Being honest coupled with a desire not to intentionally hurt anyone has made me a deity. No matter how much information, entertainment or distraction there will be in this world, being honest is something people can’t download.


Good luck, kid. I hope I was able to help. One last thought on failure. You’re 14, all you have is that time. In 20 years no one will remember your failures. Not you, not the people who saw you, not the ones who judged you or the people who supported you. No one will remember your successes or your failures. Fail a fucking way.




With The Utmost Love and Respect,

33 Year-Old Julian

Arnold Palmer

Here’s everything I know about Arnold Palmer:

He’s from Mt. Lebanon(?) or some Pittsburgh affiliate, he popularized golf and created the golf superstar, his drink is THE SHIT and he’s dead.

If I hear someone talking shit about Arnold Palmer here’s what I know:

He fucked your grandmother in high school. Western PA, motherfucker. Show some respect to the GOAT.