Justin Razor and the World

Outrunning The Reaper The concept of aging intimidates me.  I wont say it scares me, because I feel that I've done the very best I can at retarding, delaying, and combatting it.  My training, which in the past prioritized hypertrophy and strength, misapplied in a hilariously misinformed fashion, has altered severely.  When I first got to Hawaii in 2017, I experimented with the idea of adopting EMOM (Every Minute On the Minute) training, a methodology I'd learned from studying Crossfit.  At that point I was doing 5 sets of Freestanding Handstand Pushups a day, with each set's repetitions decreasing incrimentally, following the Recon Ron Pullup Program.  It's available for free online, and a simple Google Image search will allow one to locate the entire workout.  I would sometimes do it twice a day, and before I stopped it, I was doing around 77 Handstand Pushups a session.  Back then I fancied myself a badass for completing such a "large" amount of vol...

Candlelight I've often been asked why I haven't written a novel yet, or even a short story on its own, let alone a collection of them.  While I've written enough poetry to fill several reams of factory fresh printer paper, and my prose on this very site could be collected, condensed, and categorized into an efficient little e-book, I simply cant find the motivation to write something that lengthy.  Stephen King once said in an interview that the secret to his prolific literary output was to, simply, write.  He sits at his desk every morning, puts his hands on his keyboard, and let's his fingers dance and twirl until 2000 words are peering back at him from the soft glow of his monitor.  I certainly admire such ardent consistency, and do actually apply it in my private writing, namely my journaling. But when books to be sold for mass consumption and profit are called into question, I suffer the inevitable bout of writer's block that eventually plagues us all so stubbo...

Curtailed Dreams: Fuck The Coronavirus When I was in the Navy, particularly my last 2 years, all I dreamed about was boxing when I got out. At sea in 2014, out on a workup, in the process of getting ready to deploy, I was on the night shift.  When on the water, you endure what's termed Port and Starboard Watch, which is essentially a novelty nautical name for twin 12 hour shifts. One ran from 0800-2000, while the other, obviously, went from 2000-0800.  Since I'm nocturnal by nature, I quickly volunteered for the latter, and got it. I remember it had amused me because I'd done everything in my power to get San Diego, CA as my first duty station, only to end up exiled to Norfolk, VA, yet I'd secured my spot on the night shift in such short order.  When my happiness was involved, I was ignored, but when my labor was needed, I was prioritized.  It was around 3 in the morning and I had just finished my workout. Obviously I dont remember the exact contents of it, but I'm ...

The Spoils Of War There's a restaurant, Brigantine Steak and Oyster Bar, in Coronado, California. When I was stationed there for 14 months, I used to skulk past it every evening.  I was making $1,000 every two weeks then, working 14 hour days for a slave's wage.  In San Diego, $1,000 is beneath the contempt of chump change, so to say I was living a hand to mouth existence was gratuitious. Half the time there wasnt anything in my hand that made it worth the effort to expend the calories necessary to lift it to my face.  I decided, once I discovered Seven Mile Card Room in nearby Chula Vista, to call upon my dormant poker skills to keep me afloat. I would play every Friday and Saturday, buying in for $200 at the $2/$3 No Limit Texas Hold'em table.  There's an equation that helps a poker player determine their "M-Ratio". Its essentially a way to determine how you should play according to your chip stack.  It was pioneered by "Action" Dan Harrington, one...

Babel Ishe vanoparadzanisa vanhu vaimbotenda zvavo magumo akapindirana nekuda kwezvikonzero zvakasiyana. Dzimwe nguva, imhaka yekuti, seyeredzi dzinopenya dzinovhenekera iro rakasviba denga revamwe hupenyu, ivo vaifanira kushanda sechiedza cheparamu yavo kwenguva pfupi. Vamwe vanotsauswa kuburikidza nechinangwa cheumwari chakasarudzika. Ivo vanofanirwa kupesana kwechinguva, kureba kwenguva sekusajeka uye kusingagumi senge chirevo chezwi pacharo, kuitira kuti vazvikure ivo pachavo sekurehwa kwavo, kuti vafambe vachienderera mberi nenzira yavo yekuzvisarudzira, pane chikamu yerwendo iyo yaigona kungotorwa yega. Vanobva vasangana zvakare, mune ramangwana, mabasa avo vega akapedzwa, vakagadzirira uye vachishuwira kubatana zvakare mukubatana uye nerudo kubatana. Ini handina zano rekuti redu, ikozvino rangu nerako, ramangwana rakamira sei, asi ndinonamata kuti tisangane zvakare. Ndatenda nekundiratidza kwandiri kuti zvakanaka zvichiripo mune ino nyonganiso, inoodza moyo isina nyika. Ndakakud...

Trojan Kisses I'm on the brink/ Of walking free/ On the marching breeze/ That tomorrow brings/ Of all the things/ That could fill this hollow need/ Of mine, I'm falling deep/ Into the Autumn leaves/ With a shot of wink-/ -ing whiskey I nod and beat/ My hands against this awful dream/ Like a dog in heat/ Hypocrisy/ Follows me/ Everywhere, it stalks and sings/ To let it out as my heart, it bleeds/ For what was lost to me/ When I crossed the seas/ Monogamy/ A sparkling ring/ Uncommonly/ Strong reprieves/ From a world that drops the beam/ On frolicking/ Watching eag-/ -er as her belly rounds/ Itd be swelling out/ As the very ground/ That birthed our roots begins to tremble, growl/ And then allow/ Another seed to be spreading out/ As its vines assemble mount-/   -ains from pebbles, a family stretches out/ From the death and drought/ Of our own, we resemble val-/ -iant warriors bending back-/   -wards to set the mouth/ Of the world open in awe at our splendid hour/ But this is just ...

Pine Box You're wondering why I called/ Because this is all my right fault/ I might drawl/ Into the phone after the night finds prob-/ Lems with me, let's fight like all/ Those days we'd dive right off/ The platform, try light falls/ Ignite slight brawls/ And rise, life brought/ Us to this dry pine box/ You cant climb my balls/ To reach my coattails/ Bitch you know well/ Enough that the slow Hell/ You left me in is so pale/ Compared to the joke jail/ We both fell/ Into, oh, tell/ Me about the ghosts wail-/ Ing in the night that exposed trails/ Straight to the Devil I am, grow sails/ And drift away, but dont sell/ Me short as I post bail/ You'll eat crow, del-/ Icate little liar, my bones felt/ So frail/ As I awoke, held/ Prisoner in Death's own knell/ A poet quells/ His demons with prose, care-/ Ful words and a pen's stroke, delv-/ Ing deep into their hearts, alone paired/ With a light shone where/ Only they can go, stairs/ Creak ominous/ It seems all of this/ W...