I saw two hombres today
In seven eleven
The first one was stalky
The second one was invisible.
The first one eyed me down
He saw the piece on my right side
Didn’t know what to think
I could see he wanted to shake me
But wasn’t sure what I would do
Didn’t know if it’d bite.
But I didn’t mind him
I just got some corona
And left.
I’ve lived enough to know
The second hombre
Was the threat.
Blog
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Two Hombres
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Upside Down (Short Story)
It was a few minutes before six in the evening and I was waiting for the bus after leaving work to head home. It was an ordinary day and I had no reason to feel any differently than usual. I guess the only thing out of the ordinary that had happened was that I had seen something peculiar that morning.
When I had taken my first smoke break of the day, I had decided to take it on the roof of the office building where I worked. This was not unordinary, as I would either take my break there or outside the building in front of the entrance.
But as I had been smoking, I happened to glance up at the sky. I saw a white bird, of which kind I could not say, however, it was flying upside down. I squinted against the morning sun to be sure I was not confused, and sure enough, the bird circled the rooftop and then flew off to the east—the whole time flying upside down.
Strange, I thought to myself, ashing my cigarette in the little ashtray the smokers of the office had placed there. I did not know that birds could fly upside down.
I went back to work, thought nothing of it, and had finished the day as I normally would. I said a brief goodbye to Lindsay at reception and then took the short walk through the building and down the street to the bus stop.
But while I was waiting for the bus, the sun staring to set, the upside down bird came back to my mind. It had been beautiful in a strange way—graceful—and had I not looked closely I would have not noticed this strange behavior.
The bus pulled up and I climbed up the steps, giving a little nod to the driver, and then settled into a window seat in the back row. That was where I always sat. I always felt more comfortable being out of any stranger’s direct eye line.
After about twenty minutes, watching the city slide by with it’s grays and greens, we arrived at my stop—as any other day. But instead of standing up and shuffling off of the bus, I instead, stayed seated.
I am not sure why I did this—for it made no logical sense to stay on the bus. I knew the next few stops were mostly residential and I should go home and eat dinner—but my body simply seemed to decide that it was not going to move.
Before I knew it, I guess I had fallen asleep, because I awoke to the bus driver tugging at my sleeve.
“Last stop! You gotta move, sir.”
Confused and disoriented, I hazily stood up and exited the bus with the bus driver frustratedly shewing me towards the door.
The bus pulled away and I was left, standing there and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, under the flickering light of an unknown street lamp.
Where am I? I thought to myself.
I looked up at the street sign. Then I rubbed my eyes in confusion. I couldn’t understand it for the life of me. I walked towards it, feeling a strange sense of dread.
As I got closer, I realized that the letters were upside down, and—upon closer inspection and a twisting of my neck—I was able to read it. It said, Culvers Rd—the very same street that I lived on.
Ah, some kids must have vandalized it—switched the sign. I thought, relieved. Somehow I guess I had still ended up at my stop.
I began to walk down the street towards my house, approached the front door, fumbling loudly with my keys.
But before I could even put them in the lock, the door swung open.
“Mr. Johnston? Is everything alright?”
I jumped in surprise and then looked up at—what I now realize—was the face of my neighbor.
“What are you doing in my house?” I said sharply, without thinking.
My neighbor—Mrs. Rhinestone—cocked her head in confusion with a frightened look in her eyes.
“But, Mr. Johnston, this is not your house,” she said cautiously, then added, “Are you feeling alright?”
I stared at her in disbelief. Was this some practical joke? But no, she was as sincere as can be.
“S-Sorry,” I said, stepping backward. “Long day.”
I turned, thinking hard, and walked back down the path and down the driveway. I glanced back cautiously to see she had shut the door already, but I saw the curtains moving beside it, and knew she must be watching me.
I crossed the street, then turned, and saw the curtains were still moving.
I was quite concerned now, for that house was undoubtedly mine. I had looked through those very same white curtains many times. Even the car in the driveway was mine—or was it? What kind of car did Mrs. Rhinestone drive? I couldn’t seem to remember.
Now, conscious of her suspicion and her eyes on me, I turned and walked up the driveway of the house across the street. I slowly approached the front door, glancing subtly back at my house, and I saw that the curtains were no longer swaying.
Mrs. Rhinestone must think I live here…
I glanced around. There was no one out. No cars along the quiet street. Just the light from the street lights that turned on automatically at dusk.
I reached for my keys and tried the lock. The door swung open.
What the hell is going on? I thought to myself as I stared into the dark entryway of what I was certain was my neighbor’s house. Do I go inside? Do I call the police?
Then—suddenly—I heard a loud siren blare several streets away, and it’s intensity startled me enough that I simply entered and promptly shut the door.
“Honey, is that you?” A soft and far away woman’s voice called from the other room.
“A-Amy?” I said weakly, my lips beginning to quiver.
Then, from the other room, my ex-wife entered—her hair long and flowing hazel brown with smiling eyes that looked on me with all of the love and care that I remembered so well.
I reached out, my hand trembling, and took her hand. It was warm and soft and she leaned in close and I smelled lilac and roses and as I glanced down I saw the bulging white scars on her wrist from her suicide.
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On Beauty
Looksmaxxing is a cast—an attempt to save a broken limb.
But beauty—true beauty—comes from within.
Yes, it ripples out, and becomes obvious in the skin and in the face.
But beauty—true beauty—comes with grace.
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Why Alex G Is The Bob Dylan Of Our Time
Idiots think that to be Bob Dylan, you have to smoke, drink, be skinny, be a smart ass, and be a poetically tough motherfucker.
But they are idiots.
Someone once said that every now and then, a creature like Bob Dylan appears in culture. And it’s true.
Bob Dylan is similar to The Masque of the Red Death, a character in an Edgar Allen Poe story.
What Bob Dylan is—is a reckoning—a being that has the fortitude and wisdom to rise above the noise and push the counter view without a contrarian personality. They are positioned with a quite unusual personality and world view.
Most people follow the wind—the norms of the time. Then there are the counter culture folks, who rebel. Then there are the freaks, who are oblivious to it all. But a being who has an understanding of the culture and a wise view on it and, additionally, a vengeful and compassionate spirit coupled with the boldness to speak out, and speak loudly—is quite rare.
In the sixties, this is exactly what Bob Dylan was. He sung the truth, without pretense or ego or pride or even an objective. And that is what makes him a hero and a legend.
I believe that Alex G is the modern day equivalent.
A boy trapped in a suburban bedroom with a computer and a microphone, who held onto love and spoke the truth. Despite the crumbling soul of the modern world around him.
Some people say that Jesse Welles is the modern Bob Dylan, but that is only a genre-association. Jesse Welles has merit, and he is a great singer and songwriter, but his music is in no way as revolutionary as Alex G.
I believe strongly that if the media landscape was more focused, then Alex G would have risen much higher and reached much further. Or perhaps due to his style, he would have been dismissed altogether. And of course, this is what would have happened to Bob Dylan if he hadn’t made the bold moves that he did and found the genre of American folk at the time that he did.
If there is one difference between the two artists, it would be that Dylan latched onto a tradition of American folk—but it is so obvious that this was not a marketing ploy, which is what makes him a legend similar to Alex G.
Of course, Alex G., and rightly so, had no traction to latch onto, as the heroic ideal of America had all but disintegrated by the 2000s.
that’s not to say that Alex G didn’t find a deep appreciation for America, with his latest work he leans heavily into country and southern culture.
Just like Dylan, who continually explores new American genres, such as his early 2000s album Triplicate, where he dives into the world of jazz standards.
In conclusion, if you disagree with me, name an artist with more integrity and originality than Alex G and I will tell you that you are delusional.
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when the wind takes the muse away
awhile back I read about graduate students and how when they finish their dissertation many of them become depressed. you would think that it would be the opposite—that after finishing something you’ve worked so hard on for years and years that you would feel a sense of satisfaction but that doesn’t seem to be what really happens.
We all know it—the journey is the important part, the struggle. no one charters a plane to the top of Mount Everest, they climb it for the climb.
But lately, I feel that I’ve lost even the joy of creation. the muse seems to have vanished and I am not sure why.
This doesn’t feel the way I sometimes feel, in that I am too troubled to create. But rather that I might have said everything I am able to say.
And part of me wonders what else is there to do now?
I’ve created such a large body of work but with no outward success that I really feel like a sort of ghost. I have an air of pride for the work I’ve done but at the same time I feel like a complete failure.
The only thing to really do from here is to keep creating.
But I don’t know how.
the world is changing so quickly and it’s frightening.
It’s hard to know what’s worthwhile in this new world.
I have lived my life by the idea that art matters, but as the artists I love come under scrutiny in this increasingly visible age it’s hard not to wonder if maybe it was all a complicated illusion.
But I don’t think it’s that simple.
People are complicated and full of nuance and I think that this is important to remember.
there’s a Bukowski quote that always stuck with me about having the ruthless desire to live and not the means and how that poisons the soul.
I think that this is where my creative block comes from.
I long for the summer in which there was so much life to live that you barely had time to create. And now, it feels that I’ve used up all of that summer and it’s still cold and the wind has taken the last bit of life and flung it away.
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The Fantasy of Celebrity
I’m kind of unusual when it comes to the state of celebrity and pop-culture—meaning I’m a normal guy. I saw the absurdity of the change in culture, and though I did not go along with it, I did not have an enormous problem with it.
However, in the past five years or so, I have been unable to understand many aspects of popular culture and the appeal. For anyone who’s not a huge fucking nerd this would be no problem, but as I need tv to survive, it has been a bit of an annoyance.
But looking back on the celebrities of my childhood, what I consider to be the golden age of celebrity, I think I have finally understood what the core difference is.
It comes down to a collective fantasy.
In the early 2000s, my coming of age, I really think what drove stories and stars was the idea of the hero. Not a perfect or naive hero, but a darker, more realistic hero.
It was kind of the perfect storm of a fantasy—cinema was reaching its peak, special effects were erupting, and the internet wasn’t really active enough to spoil the mystery behind the stars.
So me, and my generation, were able to enjoy this fantasy of a troubled hero in a corrupt world who against all odds did something noble.
Of course, overcoming this cultural fantasy is what some would say is growing up, but of course, my goal was to never grow up, so I try to understand the zeitgeist.
I think that the new cultural fantasy of celebrity is someone who is a good person. Not a hero, not wise, not deep—because those people exist now and they’re probably homeless. No, people want to watch someone who is living the good life while being a good person.
General society has only become crueler and we all know that people are not good—but celebrity has somehow still survived, as it always seems to in modern America, as the fantasy that the public needs.
People want to believe that there is someone out there who is good, I think (I hope), and they want to lift them up as the best of us.
But, of course, as the final filmmaker from the glory days of cinema (Christopher Nolan) puts it:
The world is simple. It’s miserable, solid all the way through. But if you could fool them, even for a second, then you could make them wonder. And then you got to see something very special.
And, I think, now more than ever, people want to be fooled.
But it’s strange—it’s almost as if we are elevating celebrity as a form of our own ego. People want to believe that they have a say in someone’s greatness—that this person is good enough to deserve it.
Because where would they be if they didn’t believe that? They would be like me, alone and unemployed. An average guy with no value.
Bless them for their fantasies, bless us all. Dreams seem to be the only thing that keeps the human soul alive. And I think celebrities are a huge part of that—a manifestation in American popular culture of a collective fantasy that keeps us alive.
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Wednesday, April 29, 2026
“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.”
― Anaïs NinYesterday was a pretty good day. I managed to accomplish everything I had hoped to and even got a gig.
The only thing that sucked was that I couldn’t fall asleep. I feel like a zombie right now.
I’ve struggled with insomnia for a while—like years and years. I’m not sure why, but I think it has to do with anxiety.
The only thing that seemed to get me to fall asleep was sleeping on the floor, putting my phone in another room, using earplugs, and doing my mini-workout while lying down.
Insomnia might also have to do with TikTok. I always go on TikTok right before bed even though my algorithm is like Charles Manson. It always finds something that triggers me, then it reaffirms something about me. Last night’s excitement was showing me my type talking to a guy who was thirty and single and just feeling sorry for them.
The thing I have to remind myself, which is hard at night, is that I’ve already tried the conventional dating path and it wasn’t for me. It’s easy to ridicule yourself and feel like there’s something wrong with you, especially when the majority of society agrees with that view, but if you don’t want to go mad you have to take responsibility for the fact that you chose the life you’re living.
Though, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard sometimes.
Last night, when I was trying to fall asleep, I had this visual of how my life feels right now: It feels like swimming through lead, and when I manage to get out and shake off the ooze, I get cold and jump back in.
But TikTok isn’t all bad, which is why I stay on in. Last night I found this cool song:
It’s nice to see the youth talking some Moz;)
However, as far as my transformation into a Greek God, I have some updates.
BODY
I need to find some kind of natural appetite suppressants. I’m thinking ginger chews or something like that. Or like green tea. I do not want to use a GLP—then you have to rely on it forever, and that sounds, for one thing, expensive.
I’m experimenting with four meals, essentially. My first meal is around lunchtime, the second is a snack in the late afternoon, then a meal for dinner, and then a protein shake before I go to sleep. I’m not sure if it’s smart to shift my eating to later in the day or not, but I find that thats when I get the most hungry. It’s fairly easy for me to fast in the morning, so I figure it’s best to go with my body’s natural rhythm.
When it comes to my workout, I feel good about it. This is something that has taken me a long time to settle on, but when I started it about a year or two ago, it seemed to work well. Essentially, it’s just a two mile or longer walk with my dog and then a short calisthenics workout of 3 supersets of 3 exercises—one for lower, upper, and core. Then I alternate which muscles are worked, so there’s a “front” workout—which is like chest and quads and abs. A “back” workout—which is back, hams, and lower back. The there’s what I loosely call a “side” workout—which is shoulders, abductors, and side core.
I had settled on this workout about two years ago and got into great shape, but because things felt almost too easy, I changed it up.
But recently, I realized that I think I had found my workout and my real problem was not the workout but my diet. So I’ve just trying to focus more on diet and stick with the workout that works.
MIND
I need to find a book that explains the process of starting a business to a five year old. But that seems ridiculous.
Yesterday I decided to read the millionaire fastlane—though I’ve already read it. But the internet says it’s a good book.
I just find that I get so bored of finance books—the writers sound all the same.
I heard some quote, “God leaves the room when you start thinking about money,” paraphrased, and I think it’s true.
I just want to learn more about the native Californians.
SOUL
I did get my word count in for my novel, and I feel excited about where it’s going. I’m starting to figure out who the protagonist is.
Also, probably the biggest win of yesterday was that I stayed sober.
So—my goals for today are as follows:
- Stick with my diet
- Workout
- Write
- Find a better book about business
- Stay sober
Here…we…go—and may Apollo bless us on this fine day.
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Tuesday, April 28, 2026
The goal of this blog is to publish a daily post as I embark on a journey of self-improvement and self-discovery.
I have always had a fascination with the Greek God, Apollo, thus this is my “temple.” He is a god of many domains: light, music and arts, healing, archery, prophecy, to name a few.
I am also passionate about music and art, and am a musician and writer. I also love the sun and water, though, addiction and mental health struggles have prevented from enjoying things like the beach in the way I did when I was young. My goal is to change that.
I’ve also always been the type of person who is drawn to doing many things. I think it’s a strength and a curse. But I’d like to explore a bit more in my hobbies and work-life and doing so under the “guidance” of Apollo, I think is quite geek-worthy. I might even take up archery again.
I know that the idea of emulating a Greek God is very geeky, but I think I’m okay with that at this point. Having a hero who isn’t human and fallible is kind of nice. I don’t have to worry about him getting canceled or one day meeting him and realizing he’s an a**.
I thought about posting this on TikTok, because these days, unfortunately, I watch a lot of TikTok. But I realized that I’d much rather have the space to explore things in longer forms, without looking at my face so much. So I’m going to try WordPress.
That being said, I have been kind of inspired by the #looksmaxxers (I know, I know) all over TikTok. Even though they are just immature kids trying to get laid, there is something kind of inspiring at their dedication and willingness to share every detail of their “ascension” process. I also think they are right about how much looks do, unfortunately, matter in our current culture. I know that I have noticed a big difference in how I’m treated depending on my current weight or clothes.
So, part of this journey will be losing weight, working out, and optimizing my diet. But that’s not everything. I also want to learn more about the world and myself and explore as well as create more art. So I guess you could call me a #bodymindsoulmaxxer if you’d like.
Ultimately I’m going to use this blog to post every morning about my plans for the day and hopefully keep me accountable. I will try to be very detailed and specific, because why not? Maybe someone else is going through a similar situation and they might benefit from what I’m doing. I might also post my art if there’s interest.
Here are some of the bad habits I’m trying to change:
- Drinking
- Smoking
- Junk food
- Being broke
- Being lonely
Drinking has been a big struggle for me in the past year. I’ve used it as a way to manage my mental health and I’m hoping to change that. It has also caused me to gain weight, which has been a struggle for me ever since I was ingratiated into the lovely arena of psychiatry. I’m currently six feet tall weighing about 210 lbs. (at my heaviest I was 230 lbs).
I know, once again, this is very geeky—or possibly just ridiculous—but I’d like to lose weight and develop my physique in the style of Apollo: long hair, sun-kissed skin, lean, and strong. (Yes, I’m bisexual)
But aside from simply how I look, I’d like to do some other things as well.
Here are some positive habits I’d like to explore (or keep doing):
- Find work that sustains me and I can do with my mental health
- Travel more
- Start a band again
- Keep Working out
- Keep Hiking with my dog
- Find a “forever diet” – something that is healthy and sustainable that I can scale up or down depending on my income
- Keep writing fiction, poetry, and music (I’d really love to publish a novel)
- Explore who I am and question the ideas I’ve lived with until now
- Become a morning person
Seeing this all written down, it doesn’t seem as impossible as I’d thought. I think the most important thing is not losing momentum or hope that making these changes will be worthwhile.
With all that being said, here are some of my goals for today:
- Stay sober
- Take my dog on a hike
- Write 500-1,000 words on my novel
- Read about finance
- Do a short calisthenics workout
- Eat under 1800 calories
- Get to sleep around 9 pm
So, here goes.
Will W. Williams 