Justin Razor and the World

My Mother works in the prison industry, in logistics. Her affinity for numbers and an intuitive grasp of bookkeeping led to her easily securing the job. This knowledge however, that, protected as she was by large, physically imposing guards, she was still surrounded by violent inmates with a predisposition for malevolence filled me with malaise and terror. Undeterred, I sought to understand my fears, to combat them with comprehension and alleviate them with knowledge. So I read, immersing myself in the biographies of both convicts and correctional officers, wardens and wards of the state, grown and juvenile. As I digested increasing anounts of information, a part of me, albeit begrudgingly initially, came to admire these men restrained behind unforgiving steel, stone and stigma. Obviously not the rapists and pedophiles, or vast majority of the murderers. All 3 groups should be put to death with extreme prejudice and malice, particularly the second one. But it was the gang members, thos...

Nothing's changed. The frigidity has been excitedly waiting for me, sinisterly wrapping its chilling tendrils around me icily. This time I knew what to expect however, so all is well. The landscape is gorgeous, dotted with rustic, worn trees, leaves abdicated from their branches like birds flying away to evade the cold. The terrain is rugged yet refined, distinct in its regal, natural beauty. It's a Thomas Kincaid painting granted life, plucked from the canvas by God himself and placed over His Earth with careful, practiced hands. Her family is wonderful, welcoming me into the homestead with classic, warming benevolence, forming the beating heart of the ambiance, adding the soul and spirit to the bucolic setting. Dinner was delicious, homemade spaghetti and garlic bread. As any Sailor who's earned their salt knows, homecooked meals are a precious, priceless commodity, so to be greeted with one on my first night here was a favorful blessing. Right now as I write this, Im enj...

Impatience is bubbling in her breast as I write this, and her eager exuberance is almost too much to reasonably bear. It reminds me of my first flight home in 2012, enroute from Pensacola. Exhausted from constant tests and unending studying, the reprieve from computers, networking and IPs was both well recieved and extremely necessary. But this was no trip to the beach, or, if we were feeling particularly advenerous, to Destin, Alabama. This was my return home, me settling back into the life I'd left behind so abruptly. Now, nearly 5 years later, history repeats itself before me. Eyes blazing and fiery, heart thudding, she narrates our plans and schedules animatedly, pausing to assure Im still with her. Yes baby, we'll visit New York City. Of course we'll drink at your stepbrother's restaurant, country music serenading us intoxicatingly as the whiskey warms our beleaguered hearts. The details matter for naught, as your company is blessing enough. Youve been with me thro...

My heart is heavy, but my gaze is wide and omnipotent. The horizon blinds me, my future growing in vibrancy and promise. In a little over a month, I will reside in a veritable Earthly paradise, living for free in a scenic destination few ever travel to, and if they do make the trip, they drop a small fortune and stay for a sliver of the year. Yet, faced with all of this refreshing change, I find my bravery receding inward, my eyes shifting backwards and cast down, staring longingly and lovingly at what will remain after my departure. Ive read of prisoners that beg to return, willfilly subjugating themselves before incarceration, and of pensioners that long to toil and thrash, chained to their once thriving career once again. While I've not devolved that much, one thing is for certain, and it shocks me impressively. I never thought I'd say this, but yes, I will miss this ship. I'll never forget my arrival to the floating dumpster that would serve as my home for over 3.5 ye...

I always laugh when Im bombarded with questions about training and diet from my peers. The inevitable examples always turn up: What supplements do you take? How many meals do you eat a day? How long are your workouts? And of course, the iconic "How much can you bench?". The hilarity ensues when their faces invariably contort after hearing my answers. While I will forever gain amusement from their confusion, Im enormously tired of the tedium of fielding the same questions, which is why this post was written. Ill address my training, my lifestyle, nutrition, and general outlook on fitness. The largest misconception that modern workout acolytes strain under laboriously is the need for 6 meals a day. The science of "stoking the metabolism" has been largely disproven, then justified again, only to be tackled once more, before rising from the ashes of defeat like the stubborn, misinformed phoenix it is. The confusion is maddening. When others see my physique, they autom...

Ive been queried multiple times by those naysayers, doubters, and losers amongst the crowd as to why it is exactly that I write. They wonder as to the financial recompense I recieve for my daily labor, whether each word promises a fraction of a dollar, however minute. While I won't divulge exactly what Ive written to earn money, I will admit that, while it wasn't a substantial amount by any means, it felt good to enjoy an exquisite plate of heaping linguine, bathed in olive oil and smothered in marinara sauce filled with simmering meats, knowing that my hedonistic meal was paid for entirely by virtue of the talent at the very core of my being. They attempt to mock, although their jeers ring as hollow as their vacant skulls, asking in jest why I use so many "big" words. In response, I'd venture to guess that theyve never whet their pallates with an aromatic, sanguinous wine from an exquisitely decorated caraffe as they enjoyed a succulent steak brimming with fresh ...

Tonight the pangs and echoes of homesickness have stabbed me right in the gut, leveling any posturing I may have defended with previously. My hometown has degenerated into a cesspool. Enroute to a Starbucks when I last graced her city limits, I counted 3 seperate piles of broken glass, all from beer and liquor bottles, deposited wantonly and dangerously around the parking lot. The pungent scent of low priced weed clung to the air in the majority of the shops I revisited, and I was constantly on alert, fists at the ready, should one of the assorted vagrants eyeballing me choose to make good on their implicit threats. The area bore little resemblance to the site of my childhood and adolescence. Or perhaps it had always been this way, and first my naivete, and now nostalgia, had coated it, granting me a pair of rose-tinted glasses and protecting it from my clinically impartial gaze. However, in the grand scheme of things, it matters for little. Whether Ive noticed and focused solely on th...

Ive always wondered how the surfers can stomach the frigid Pacific waters, especially when the air accompanying them would be nearly unbearable if one got excessively wet. There are photographers capturing the waning sun, families and couples out with their dogs, reveling in the placid weather as their animal companions relish the chance to exercise their legs and nascent instincts. Joggers and sprinters dot the sands, appearing and vanishing in the oncoming fog. We are ensconced within the safety of a thick, grey blanket, splayed about on top of a pale white sheet, both courtesy of our gracious yet overbearing employer. Shared heat, that of warm bodies and boiling passion, sustains our comfort. Your head resting on my lap, long toned legs reaching out for the ocean, and my toes digging contentedly into the gentle, malleable beach. I gaze out past the horizon, my eyes searching for a ship I know will never return to this port, calling out to me to board, lest were late for more adventu...

Oftentimes my training is the only thing that would save me from a tedious, squalid evening like tonight. The difference, ironic as it is, is that, rather than being barricaded in an expensive hotel room by enormous quantities of snow, Im relaxing in bed less than a few miles from the bustling, quaking metropolis that is downtown. To my friends, this is asinine. Im 25, they'd remind me quizically. I should be out partying! My life is speeding by me, and Im letting it slip through my fingers like a cloud of hazy smoke. Fortunately, Im over all of that for awhile. This isnt some lecture that will devolve into pretentious ostentatiousness. Im not going to demonize people for going out, spending egregious amounts of money for entrance to overhyped clubs, and hooking up freely and widely. Theres nothing wrong with that life. I fucking love that life, but priorities change and shift suddenly, as world shatteringly as tectonic plates. Make no mistake, when I arrive at my new home, as I ac...

Sometimes I stop and consider whether all of the effort is profitable, yet alone worth it. We will be sailing along calmly, the waters still and relaxed, a veritable rippling mirror. We cradle each other's hearts lovingly, our bond unvarnished, pure, and inexplicable. No pushing or prodding is required to maintain it. It simply is, natural and free, an accepted fact like the crisp air or the vast skies. Then, from nowhere, a tsunami hits, followed by an extraordinarily torrential thunderstorm. We struggle vainly and perspiringly to stay afloat, to maintain structural integrity. However, despite all action, we inevitably capsize. As I lay dying, adrift and motionless on the lapping, depressing surface, I witness something beautiful and eerily familiar. Out of the wreckage, you and I both rise, seized by some unseen force. Our vessel is repaired, no longer a rickety, wooden skeleton, but an ironclad warship. Like the phoenix, we ascend to the horizon, revitalized and assured, before ...

My head is throbbing with exhaustion as I rouse myself hastily. The sun has yet to awaken, and is still resting calmly, the portrait of serenity, blanketed gently by charcoal colored nocturnal clouds. The moon, aloft precariously in the sky, is perched regally atop a sea of stars, shimmering beautifully. She grins down at me, offering assurance and strength, a whispered promise of my triumph over the day to come. The light may be blinding and scathingly infernal, but I will forever be awash in the cool embrace of darkness. My roommate snores brashly, blissfully unaware of the bestial sounds rumbling forth from his gaping maw. I stealthily skulk to the sink and run the tap over my awakening hands. Tepid, relaxing water runs breezily over my stiff fingers, shocking me into coherence as I splash it aggressively over my scrunched face. The water turns my pale pallor ruddy with blood, and, as always, kickstarts my morning ritual. I can sense and feel intimately my body regaining the spark o...

As we age, the self is gradually exposed to us. We discover portions of our souls that we loathe while unearthing segments that bewitch us. As I pause ever so often to reconsider what Ive dug up, I ponder one simole question, one thats echoed through the writing's Ive absorbed since their introduction into antiquity; Are we destined to become who and what we are, or do we create ourselves? Transhumanism is an overreaching school of thought in my opinion, although it is not without its merits practically. The philosophy seeks to use technological advances across a wide variety of scientific disciplines to extend all aspects of humanity's grasp. Nanobots, locally focused sonic waves, and genetically modified superfoods are enlisted to help mankind elongate our lifespans until we theoretically escape the confines of mortality for good. The movie "Limitless" introduced a nootropic drug called NZT-48 that imbues the user with the ability to access the entire brain, rathe...

Its a disturbing, awakening thing to realize your own mortality. Id imagine the Reaper allows himself a snide grin, observing his quarry from the shadows as he realizes that his time is in fact finite. For the longest time our subject had allowed himself the luxury of delusion. He believed that his zealous devotion to his workout regimen, coupled with his stringent dedication to fasting daily, insulated him from any potential harm regarding illness. The delicious harmony of muscle straining against gravity warded off any thoughts of weakness and deterioration, and the proven fact that, through monastic adherence to his lifestyle, his body would burn extraneous fat with the ease of a furnace cooking dry leaves, combined to form a suit of impenetrable, impregnable armor. What he didnt realize, however, was that, adept as he had become at guarding himself from the outside, all of his demons, wraiths and poltergeists had already compromised his fortress. They were built into his psyche, h...

So its the new year. Im happy, believe it or not. Not because of the nascent, gutless nonsense that seems to pervade the air around this time, definitely not that. To me at least, there was always a sense of shallowness to the New Year's declarations people uttered, as if the previous 365 days didnt offer ample time to pursue the hollow goals they had just paid lip-service to. "This is the year I'll lose 50 pounds!", the suburban, coddled wife or ex-athlete father shouts passionately to all within earshot. They stampede to the local gym vigorously, lobbing and propelling money into the greedy hands of eager owners. They throw themselves  into their new fitness routines thoroughly, pursuing and consuming all pertinent information with a studiousness that borders on academic. They are dedicated and devout, inspirational and insightful. For about a month. Then inevitably, motivation begins to wane and desire begins to trickle out the bottom of their spirits. "Im too...