July 29, 2005
I have a few things to say about Gabriel Trujillo. First off, I don’t think he even really realizes how amazingly talented he is. As a self-taught artist, he exudes so much natural, raw talent that it almost makes me sick to my stomach. He constantly creates - he’s compelled as though it were some kind of animal instinct over which he has no choice. But not only does he create art, he is a true visionary. He creates concepts to live by - socialist, participatory, pro-active ways of approaching daily life - he takes the initiative when everyone else just sits around talking. His ideas change constantly because, like life, they’re sometimes messy. So they evolve and grow and sometimes get turned inside out. He’s not afraid to throw things away when they’re not working and he’ll be the first to admit he’s wrong. He has humility, humor, tenacity, a tender heart, passion, and is one of the smartest men I know. But what has really driven me to write this is that I’ve recently learned of the kind of life that he came from – a life of abuse and poverty, devoid of any decent role models, devoid of any kind of hope for the future. And yet here he is with more hope in his little finger than I contain in my whole body. Hope for people to create instead of destroy, to tell the truth instead of lie, to have compassion instead of being cold-hearted. He completely turned his life around from the dark path he was almost certainly destined to travel and went in an entirely different direction. Instead of becoming bitter, twisted, and enraged from the numerous amounts of hurt he’s endured, he made a conscious decision to change his life and actually believe in it. It’s probably a pure testament of will that he is even here today. Don’t get me wrong though, he’s no saint and has many, many faults and idiosyncrasies. And yes, I guess might be a little biased in his favor because he’s the man who has won my heart. The thing is, he claims he’s scared out of his wits but, in my eyes, he’s braver than any man I know. He just doesn’t know it.
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I'm dog tired. Numb.
Sat, June 14, 2008 - 12:53 AM
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It's cold outside. Walking keeps me warm. My heart races. I have but two possessions that mean something. My guitar and Belinda's computer. Walking makes me cold inside. I hold my two possessions close. ` I forgot to put on socks and my shoes are to big. It hurts to walk. Things could be worse. Things could be better. I have two feet, my hands and one good eye that aches and I will walk until I sleep. Yesterday morning a very angry man tried to remove my... read more
I called my soul, but she's not answering.
Mon, February 5, 2007 - 5:08 PM
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I tried my ego but he's out shopping See, I've lost control of my wiring I need to stop those circuits from blowing. I look outside, but it's still not inspiring. I look below but it's just so-so and depressing NO, NO NOOOOO I lock and load, but my gun's not firing. I hate sex just because my body's not flattering. I've changed my circuitry, through chemistry Yeah, I've changed my circuitry, through chemistry. And now,I've lost control ... read more
I was wrongfully evicted 2 days ago, sherrif threw me into the street. Which I guess is now my home.
Sun, February 4, 2007 - 7:58 AM
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I had a valid case but my answer was voided a month after I submitted it into the court. It was very good answer at that. So was my affirmative defenses and evidence. But because my fee waiver had been declined, a finacial hearing was set, which I attended, but I couldn't prove I was poor. I couldnt prove I was poor. I couldnt prove, that, I am poor. It was and is truely immpossable fo... read more
my poor mans copywrite. a new song by me aka friend enemy
Sat, February 3, 2007 - 11:01 AM
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"The good luck ship" (1st verse) dive in and wade, the ocean has never been shallow enough for you to tread, softly over words you've spread. Those private thing's best left unsaid. Torn apart....torn apart. Were we...only...objects, for you to shred? For you to shred. (chorus) now you just, talk, talk, talk about your good luck ship coming in just a few more dollars, my brotha, until then just between us friends just b... read more
another crappy country song by me tune to open g minor
Thu, May 18, 2006 - 9:34 PM
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"over a sorrow did weave me a shade over my own wrought iron bed that there angel lost her way where the grass grows grey my thought’s do lay troubled wild, wild and forlorn over many tangled spray these troubled tears were born all heart broken up this is what she said oh hear them those children oh hear them, how they cry do they wail so, for thier fathers side do they look abroad, beneath the stormy s... read more
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