Pink Eye
May 21, 2025
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The reek of capitalism, stale ambition, and cheap Tiger beer. It clung to everything like a bad hangover. That’s what Systematic Asia was built on, a Marriott hotel room in
Explore raw, unfiltered reflections on life, loss, identity, and love. From monogamy to madness, these real-life stories pull no punches — and they just might hit home.
The reek of capitalism, stale ambition, and cheap Tiger beer. It clung to everything like a bad hangover. That’s what Systematic Asia was built on, a Marriott hotel room in
There was this book—Soulshaping by Jeff Brown. It found me in Sedona, handed to me by Laura, my second love, or whatever you call someone who gives you a book
I think if a blue-haired activist can scream in the middle of a city square about the moral right to extinguish a healthy fetus for convenience, and some overweight patriot
Ever been around someone who changes when they’re around you? Like their whole damn personality lights up, flips a switch, and suddenly you’re not just hanging out—you’re dancing on the
there’s a dog in me used to wear collars like medals— husband, bishopric, millionaire, project manager, semiconductor engineer, creator of things that don’t remember me. wore ’em all until my
It was Will’s birthday. Not that it mattered much. Life doesn’t stop kicking your ass just because you lived another year. Will was the restaurant manager—my boss’s right-hand guy. Tall,
I was a haole—white mainlander—trying to manage construction projects on the west side of Oahu. Not just any projects. Big ones. Government jobs, infrastructure—projects that put you in the mix
Out in our overpriced yuppie farm in Tumalo, Oregon—where everyone plays cowboy but still drives a Subaru—I had two dogs: a black lab and a basset hound named Corky. Corky
I owned a tequila bar called Amalia’s in Bend—a place where the guac was good, the tequila better, and I could walk in like Tony fuck-in’ Soprano. People came just
My time in Hawaii spanned five years, but it aged me like dog years—every day was a cocktail of beauty, danger, and cosmic slapstick. Before that, I’d done my time
Kapolei was never pretty. Not really. It’s where you go when you’ve given up on Oahu fantasies and just want a place to sweat, sleep, and avoid eye contact with
She had the kind of body that distracted you mid-sentence—tattoos sleeved all the way down, Elizabeth Taylor eyes with a punk-rock grin, and a rack that could’ve broken treaties. Confident.
