The Thing It Took Me Too Long To Write

Dear you, reading this,

It has taken me almost two months to return to this blog and it has largely to do with some recent discoveries. Suffice to say, I’ve been humbled. Much of my persona involves taking the world at face value and seeing a layer of hidden magic. I try and remain as faithful to others’ interpretations as possible. It’s a lot of fun meeting deities and saying that you don’t exist. I wouldn’t go as far to say it’s all an act, but I also don’t think it warrants more trips to the psych ward. The simple truth is I’ve experienced things I can’t explain. Yes, some of them were due to drugs and I’ve made clear I understand that may reduce my credibility. If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to talk about two of my grandparents. First, Let me add a little back story to this back story.

Part of the “I don’t exist” mythos I’ve created hinges upon quantum immortality. That’s the belief that in an ever expanding multiverse, you won’t perceive your own death. Instead, your consciousness or soul or what have you just shifts along to a world where you’re still alive. Whether or not this leads to getting trapped eternally or changing into another consciousness is anyone’s guess. For whatever reason, starting in 2015, I got the feeling that this was not my home. I had all the memories of the body I inhibit, but it felt as if I had quantum leaped into a random 23 year old dude. Friends and family got used to it soon enough and I got pretty good at playing the role. Four years later, I still find myself studying life as a perceived outsider that suddenly found themselves on the inside. Lately I’ve been asking myself “What’s with this ego I’ve been saddled with?” So in the spirit of that question, I’m going to write the rest of this as if I’ve been in this body the whole time.

Some of my earliest memories were being told that I was smart and would change the world somehow. At the time I took this as gospel fact and saw it as a sign that I didn’t need to try hard. I realize now that those were the hopes of my parents and teachers. Perhaps with different forms of encouragement I wouldn’t be so full of myself. Even if they were right, after living with my Grammy and visiting my Opa in a senior living facility, I doubt I will lead a life that measures up to either of them.

My Grammy is one of the most important figures in my life. As my Fathers mother, she moved out to Colorado to take care of me while my parents were at work. She’s always been there for me and it wasn’t until recently that her history came into full focus. As a member of the tail end of the silent generation, she got married at 17, started having kids at 19, and had lost one of her three children by the time she was my age. When she was 30, her uterus and ovaries were removed and there is speculation that the procedure was unnecessary. That same year her husband left her for another woman after 13 years of marriage. Despite these setbacks, she raised her children as a single mom while forgiving multiple missed child support payments. She worked several jobs in everything from food service to real estate to entertainment before going back to school and earning a degree in psychotherapy. During her career as a stand up comedian, she played for crowds of thousands. Her kids came of age in Los Angeles in the 80’s and thanks to ya boi Ronny Regs, got addicted to cocaine and crack. (Thanks Iran-Contra) Instead of letting her children take advantage of her or letting her life break down, she got sober. She focused on being the kind of mom her kids could look up to and come back to. She now has a loving relationship with both her kids. Her friendships are treasured and she has explored a good chunk of the world with those close to her. For 49 years of her life, she made a point of never missing the renaissance fair closest to her.

My mothers father on the other hand, lived a life that most would consider the American Dream. That’s not to say it wasn’t without it’s own share of hardship. Born in 1926, my Opa was present for the Nazi invasion of his homeland The Netherlands (Holland). As the Nazi’s were conscripting men into their ranks, he hid in the fields and lived off of what little rations his family could spare. After the war, He became a sailor in the merchant marines and quickly moved up in the chain of command. By the time he met my Oma, He was the head steward on his vessel. I’m not entirely sure if he had immigrated at this point; nevertheless, they met in America in the docks of Los Angeles. My Oma was another Dutch immigrant and it wasn’t long before the two started a family together. Both my mom’s parents worked hard in multiple jobs and ended up saving a chunk of money for retirement. They raised two wildly successful children who both have admiration and gratitude for their parents. My mom is chock full of stories about her dad investing in her, her family, and her community. My Opa used to roam the streets of LA on his bike with buckets of paint to erase graffiti. It wasn’t his job. He did it out of kindness. He stayed active, walking and swimming everyday, until he literally couldn’t. When I visited him prior to writing this, He was still smiling.

Both these people were doing more impactful things than I’m doing now and they both started younger than I am. Where are they now? My Grammy lives by herself and my Opa is in a senior living facility. Time has taken its bat to both their bodies and minds. My Grammy has cancer and still works to keep her standard of living. Last October the Doctors told her she had a year to live. while I lived with her, the TV was rarely off even throughout the night. My Opa was put into the home he resides in because dementia was starting to set in. I spoke to him between bouts of writing this and he thinks someone is stealing his pants. Everything before the last sentence was written days ago. That sentence was written yesterday. Today my Opa fell while getting out of bed and broke his clavicle. We visited him in the hospital and he said he didn’t know who I was. This is what is waiting for you and I if we’re lucky. In the meantime, there is life to be lived.

I’ve spent a lot of the last month comparing myself to my Grammy and my Opa. Due to my youth, I could most likely best them in a competition of strength or wit. Due to their accomplishments and my underemployment, we would probably agree that they are or were better for society. One might say they are just better people. Dwelling on this has availed me nothing. Comparisons aside, they have filled me with fear for my future. I don’t know if I could weather a medical emergency. I’m still getting charged for my health insurance even though it’s technically for people who work more hours than I do. There’s a very real possibility the insurance company could refuse to assist in my bills if I became injured. I vape, smoke weed, and drink. Sometimes my lungs hurt. This is all very real and it depresses the hell out of me. Because of this, I pray quantum immortality isn’t real.

I spent my time in the ER today wondering what was going on in my Opa’s head. I imagined behind his sunken in, closed eyes, he was living in a rich tapestry of dreams. A young merchant marine trapped in an old man’s body but no longer tethered to it. Perhaps he was on the high seas or spending time with his kids. He slowly awoke from his slumber and his first words were “I have to go now.” The bathrooms were full and I watched him piss into a bottle from a hospital bed in the middle of the ER. He wasn’t even in a room. Where does that consciousness go when the body can no longer sustain itself in our universe? Are there timelines where he keeps falling down but remains alive well past 100? And what of my grammy? She’s losing mobility as it is. Will her “soul” just keep watching TV until the heat death of whatever universe she finds herself in?

Of course, no one really knows what happens after death. I could say I do and you could dismiss it as drug talk. We could talk about the merits of heaven and hell or reincarnation but those rely on just as much mysticism as quantum immortality. I’ve met people who have literally died, had their heart stop and everything, only to be revived my modern science. They don’t have any meaningful answers either. without mysticism, the questions are almost meaningless. When you die, you rot. that’s it. Any identity one assumes is merely the firing of neurons. Once that stops, that identity stops existing and all were left with are avatars. We’re left with memories and a corpse. We’re presented with the hobbled man who’s wife says is gone, publicly urinating because the bathrooms are full and he’s scared to walk.

If I could change the world the way people once said I would, I would give people a graceful, dignified exit strategy. The problem is I don’t know what that means. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Surely, it doesn’t mean giving out lethal doses of morphine. A lot of old folks I’ve met want to see another day and still have smiles on their faces. Conversely, I don’t think it means extending longevity either. That just pushes the problem further down the road. Greater minds than mine have spent much more of their lives on these types of problems and we’re still dealing with death and pain. Ironically, our quest to eliminate pain is currently killing thousands of us in the form of prescription narcotics. In my quest to eliminate death by way of non existence, I’ve caused myself an incredible amount of pain.

Neil Degrasse Tyson once said he fears a time when so much of the cosmos has expanded past our view that we can no longer learn about it. I fear the same on a human level. I fear living forever in a corner of the multiverse, divorced from all those I could know or love. That’s not the only form of quantum immortality though. Tyson also narrated the interludes on Logic’s album “Everybody” where he proclaims that everyone is the same soul living every life. I am you. you are me. We are both my Opa and my Grammy. That would suggest a universe of some form of predestination. It doesn’t necessitate a god; However, it does necessitate everything that has or will happen. Since we are necessary and can’t truly know the future or what’s going on inside someone’s head, we choose something to give us hope. My hope comes from believing one day I’ll be able to erase myself from existence.

The other thing people used to tell me was that I was so lucky to have the body and mental faculties that I do and that I was squandering it. They’re right and I hate myself for it sometimes. I would gladly step aside so some one more deserving could take the reigns. Someone who could accept and excel in this society. Some one who could actually change the world. Instead, I have this ego. I have the brat who thought he was better than everyone else but spent his free time watching porn or playing freecell when the internet broke instead of playing outside and making friends. I have the butthurt teen who couldn’t understand why he wasn’t having sex even though he was such a “nice guy” and would talk at length about it to his friends while slamming 12 packs of mountain dew, playing super smash brothers. I have the college dropout who went to the cheapest school and didn’t apply for scholarships even after being accepted into fairly prestigious schools. The one who decided that smoking weed was a better use of his time than learning a robust set of skills to be put to use. I have the drug addled 20 something that spent 4 years pining for an ex who had clearly moved on. I have the “artist” who pushed away several friends who tried to help because “They just don’t get it man.” I have the 27 year old who’s based his entire public persona around playing a massive amphitheater while failing to build an audience. I don’t know why.

It’s clear to me I need help. Shouting into the void isn’t doing it. I’m out of ideas and money. My mom and I talked about my internet presence today and she can’t understand what gave me this self importance. I don’t know either. She might ask me why I chose to type this and make our family business public. She would ask me who my audience is. It’s not her. It’s not me. It’s not my friends or even the rando’s on the internet. My audience is the future. It’s the ones who will search every nook and cranny of this crazy thing we call the internet just to figure out what the heck happened. When they do, I want them to see some magic in this crazy world. I want them to know how that bratty incel dropout started learning his lessons and found something to live for. I want them to know that I was grateful for my Grammy, my Oma and Opa, my mom, my uncles, my brother, my extended family, my friends, and sure even my dad. Most importantly, I want the future to know that I would give it all up if it meant that others who don’t have what I do could live their lives in peace and harmony. Until I know how, I’ll just keep writing the future letters, updating the progress. Hopefully they’ll see

that I am he

as you are he

as you are me

and we are all together.

as always, Thank you for reading,

-Kyle Emerson Williams a.k.a K-Wullums

j say of the day: goo goo g’joob

P.s. It turns out that my Opa hadn’t immigrated to the US when he met my Oma. the Director Lee Marx sponsored him to come here. Also, My Grammy’s Uncle was Chester Conklin. That doesn’t really have any bearing on the story but it is neat to be tied to old school Hollywood.

Unnatural Flow States and You

Dear you, reading this,

It has been a doosey of a month. Lately, the topic of “being yourself” has come up a lot. In one instance, a friend told me he felt he couldn’t be himself because when I pushed back at his jokes, it threw him off his game. In another, a romantic interest was opening up about her pet peeves and in my head, I exemplified each one and started analyzing each move instead of paying attention to her.

Whenever this kind of talk is brought up, I am reminded of flow. Flows comes up frequently when talking about mindfulness. There is a state that can be achieved where your actions no longer have to be calculated and yet produce results. It’s a sort of invincibility. You don’t have to think about what your doing because your body has that covered and your mind, while focused, is just along for the ride. Through a certain lens, I assume it must feel a lot like being yourself. You couldn’t be anything else because you are simply being and, you are yourself, doing what you do best in a flow state. This extends to relationships and groups. At some point all memebers will be flowing and perhaps a few might get the feeling of “We are being ourselves.” Part of the fun of meeting new people is learning who you are together and getting into that flow state. That takes time.

There are ways to hasten the process. This principle is the basis of team building exercises and line dancing. Doing the same thing at the same time with someone in a positive environment gives people a commonality to branch out from. It establishes a group in the first place. One could make the case this is why adultery is so focused upon in western civilization. If acts of physical intimacy establish a romantic relationship then what happens when its shared with someone outside the relationship? I could write a whole section on that, but I would only need to do so if I was working within that framework. I’m not trying to tell anyone how to love or be loved.

I want to talk about what happens when you become afraid of your flow and the reactions to it. Just because the group or relationship is flowing as itself, doesn’t mean you have stopped being you. In both the examples of strained relationships, there are points of contention rooted in fear. In the case of my friend, he feared I would perpetually put him in a place of an aggravating jerk. In his defense, I would occasionally warn people he hadn’t met about his temperament and after a recent tiff, I briefly posted a video outright calling him an asshole. His complaint stems back to a time when he cussed out a girl who was trying to get me to cheat on my girlfriend at the time. Those two points were unrelated. I don’t think he knew the girl was flirting with me and they were fighting because she wouldn’t listen to him. Should I have stepped in and tried to make peace? Sure. Should I have stopped hanging out with the girl after she made her intentions clear while knowing I was in a monogamous relationship? Perhaps. What happened instead was my friend yelled at the girl until she cried and left. I, in turn, gave him a hug for solving my problem for me. Now, I maintain that I could not have foreseen that. That being said my friend has pissed off plenty of women and I knew she was the type that he pisses off. Did I charge the lazer? Yeah. He isn’t proud of what happened that night and has voiced feelings of being used. I don’t blame him. There is a real fear of that happening again. I won’t deny that I would watch if he went off on somebody. What occurs more often is he will dominate conversation with people, discussing topics that we’ve already been over. On top of that, he will do it in a manner that undermines a variety of things, some of which I quite enjoy, and then insult my friends to my face. Sure, The jokes still land occasionally, but gone are the days of laughing at a turn of phrase. Now it’s nervous laughter at the audacity of a man who feels that I am too self righteous. It may be the case that he only acts that way around me. He may be that way around everyone and I’m the only one who calls him out on it. Either way, the result is if he doesn’t want to be an asshole, he can’t be around me. If I’m around and he’s an asshole, there’s no way of knowing if I pushed him into it.

This brings us to the concept of an unnatural flow state. Much like how we can have good and bad dreams, flow can leave you feeling a rush like never before or show you things about yourself you wish you never knew. Society labels these as, psychotic breaks, manic episodes, fugues, or crimes of passion. Although, who among us hasn’t done something they wish they hadn’t in a moment of brazen confidence? In my case, I beat my brother up so bad the school was about to call child services, I’ve made sexual advances that were inappropriate, I’ve forgotten commitments that were important, and I’ve done severe damage to property. My Brother and I have made up but that night haunts me. I am incredibly grateful for the people that have forgiven me and hope to make amends to those who haven’t. So when a romantic interest I was seeing started making mention of her past with abuse and issues with men, I was reminded of the past instances where I had reacted poorly. I too have been abused by lovers in the past. Nothing as severe, but still enough to question someone’s motives. As we communicated more I started seeing the behaviors that triggered those kinds of reactions. I don’t know if she saw it too, but she started putting distance between us and frankly, I’m bummed but alright with that. There’s a chance that we could both find ways to live happy and healthy together. As it stands, it seems neither of us trust each other enough to put in the effort. She’s had times when her willingness to be vulnerable put her life at risk and I’ve had some where I put myself and others at risk. Neither of us want that risk between us whether, physically, emotionally, spiritually, or financially.

Some talk of a unified flow that weaves through everything. All our greatest achievements and heart wrenching tragedies are but eddies in the current that is our universe unfolding before us. Some say you can tap into it. That seems ridiculous. If it’s everything, you cannot detach from it. That being said, that flow will most likely forever be out of your grasp. There is more to the universe than knowing and so one cannot know the universe and all that jazz. It’s wonderful to be yourself, to tap into your flow state and do what you do best. It is amazing to flow with others, to be part of something greater than yourself working as one. Just remember that it is not an end unto itself. The flow or zone that an athlete or creative gets into is the same state that school shooters and Qanon posters do. We all have the capabilities for helpful and harmful flow. When you realize the shooter or nutjob within, some think they can only either go with it or refrain from flow. If you go with it, you do hurtful things on the premise of being yourself. If you refrain from flow, you second guess every step you make and miss out on part of what’s great about being alive. So don’t be afraid to step out of your flow for a while. You don’t always have to be yourself! You are always learning and forgetting skills and ways to interact with your environment. If you find that you’ve been experiencing unnatural flow states or people you can’t flow with, take control of your breath and look for the next step. Also, don’t be afraid to jump back in when you’ve done some learning. It feels really good when you feel like yourself and others respond positively. If it’s not too much to ask, help others when you figure it out. The violence is always out of hand.

As always, thank you for reading,


J say of the day: Oh yeah we can, but It’ll cost ya

Who's Next?

Dear you, reading this,

I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel angry and energetic because I’ve fallen into a negative thought loop where I’m just along for a ride that never ends. My Grammy told me to start from a place of gratitude so here we go. First off, I am grateful that my family loves me enough to put up with me. I’m grateful that all my limbs work. I am grateful for all the women and dudes who have shared physical intimacy with me. I’m grateful for the house I live in. I like watching the fishies swim around. I am grateful that I have the Rocky Mountains so close by and that I can look at them as I drive and hike them on my off time. I’m grateful for all the traveling I’ve been able to do, the friends I met along the way, and everyone who welcomed me back. If you talk to me, it helped.

With that being said, there’s still a ton of nightmares out there. Life is amazing, yes, but it’s incredibly tedious and it’s really hard to be happy about that when so much of it is only here because of terrorism. When people think of terrorism, they probably think beheadings and suicide bombings. Terrorism is so much more than that. It’s any instance of using terror to advance an agenda. America is doing unfavorable stuff in your country? Fly Planes into their buildings. Countries hold political systems that restrict your access to their resources? Overthrow the government. People aren’t praising God enough? Kill them. Citizens treat each other and their bodies disrespectfully? Lock them up. Kill some of them. You think somebody knows something? Torture them. People are coming into your country after fleeing violence your country had a hand in creating? Separate them, lock them up, let some die. Kids at school make fun of you for being an asshole who hates women? Shoot em. Rich making life miserable? Chop their heads off in the town square. Poor people aren’t supporting your agenda? Let them starve. Your parents don’t understand? Yell at them. Your kids are acting up? Beat them. You don’t like life but have social media? Type slurs, insults and epithets till you get carpal tunnel and your fingers bleed. It’s all just different levels of the same thought. “Fear will stop this. Once they see what we do to them and people like them, they will stop.” Some times it works, other times it doesn’t. The truth is, it only holds something back for so long or creates a new monster to destroy. Even when it comes to solving terrorism itself, most of the efforts are terrorism. What really kills me is the people who think life has to be this way. If you want it to be this way, yikes, but oh well. If you think it has to be this way, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t believe it does. Although, I want to blast the loudest noise possible at the people who run the detention centers so maybe I’m contributing to the problem.

For years I’ve felt like the problem. All those things that I’m grateful for came at a cost. My nation was built on savage people treating others like animals. My nations current economic system relies on a disposable work force. I just want to get high and befuddle trolls on the internet. I’ve met people who are fine with all that and still want to keep living. Most people I’ve talked to just want food, water, shelter, family, friends, a community, reliable transportation, and entertainment. I thought we had the resources to give everyone that. I suppose on some level it would be nice. It’d be nice to fall in love with someone. It’d be nice to watch my offspring grow and flourish. It’d be nice to be able to go somewhere every week, see the same people, and take care of each other. If you have that, please know that I don’t want to take that away. I’m happy for you. However, I would like you to examine the cost. Does that require people being terrorized for trying to live and express themselves? If so, It’s probably not worth it in the long run. If not, WHY ARE WE STILL TERRORIZING PEOPLE?! CLEARLY WE DON’T NEED TO!!! Once you’ve examined the costs get back to me. I’ve seen them and I want no part in that shit. Why raise kids when we live in a country that doesn’t care about them? Why join a community if it hinges upon the defamation of another? Why inflict my blood curdling rage on another person?

So that’s where I’m at. I can’t take this anymore. I’m looking at vans to go around the country and find out what the real problem here is. I want to know why people are so intent on harming each other. I want to know what they would prefer people to do. I want to know why they don’t achieve their dreams. I’m so sick of living in this perpetual state of things being fine but shitty. Sick of people telling me that I can’t do anything about it. Sick of hearing kids on the internet spend their time trying to chase down which ethnic group to blame their problems on. Sick of watching some people have everything while my friends and family circle the drain. I’m sick of people thinking that therapy would solve this. Therapy isn’t going to stop people from shooting up the cities where my friends live. Therapy isn’t going to free families from concentration camps. Most of all I’m sick of living. I’m sick of waking up every day to problems I can’t solve, delivering pizza’s to people who couldn’t care less, and getting stoned till I’m just like them. I’m sick of being told to buy. Sick of being told to save what I don’t have. Where’s the 12 step program for life? I’m basically still trying to plan a future because my family and friends want me to. None of them like the guy that is constantly begging for death. That being said if you want someone to stay alive, you’ve got to give them something worth living for. Something more than “Make others a fortune so their kids can drive sports cars while you slowly die” and I haven’t seen anything that breaks out of that besides “hire others to make you a fortune so you and your kids can drive sports cars.” Mind you. I come from the generation that has been told all our wacky moments on the internet will live on forever. I don’t have to go and secure a legacy. That shit is quite secure. So before I leave on a suicide mission to help people on the border, what’s so great about staying here and letting the atrocities continue?

As always, Thank you for reading,


J say of the day: Even if you feel good, it doesn’t mean you are. When you take the time to listen, it will always take you far

A World Without Fire

Dear you, reading this,

Another month has gone by and now it really seems like I’m blowing smoke up everyone’s ass. For three and a half years I’ve been telling people that I am going to play Red Rocks on April 1st 2020. I’m not doubting it’s going to happen; however, it’s not going to happen like you think it will. I have reason to believe this and I think it’s time for a little assessment of what it is, what’s holding it back, and what’s possible.

We’re Legitimately Trying To Party

Look I like a big ol concert or event as much as the next guy, but I can’t help but to think we’ve got the system backwards. To me, Parties ought to be everyone chipping in to make an unforgettable experience despite the fact that some people will be so messed up that they won’t remember anything. Lately, it seems as if everyone is trying to be the center of attention at the center of attention. You all hear stories of fire fest and coachella. People are paying out the ass to be swindled, robbed, and riddled with Sti’s. What is so great about the promises made to these people that they will shell out hundreds of dollars? What besides being at the thing that everyone’s talking about? That’s not why we party. We party to celebrate. We celebrate unions of lovers, new lives being brought into the world, old lives well lived, and historical events that made us who we are. Partying is being part of something bigger than yourself. When you find yourself at a cool party, you aren’t merely a consumer of awesomeness but part of what makes it so awesome!!! So when I talk about this Red Rocks show on April 1st 2020, I’m not thinking that somehow we’re going to amass enough fame and fortune to throw a show as If I were Haim or Vulfpeck. I’m telling you that if enough people show up and we have a good plan of how to organize and get them all fed and sheltered, It really won’t matter what happens, You won’t be able to look around you without something cool going on. This show, at it’s core, is a mix between Field of Dreams, Woodstock, and Burning Man. The genius of a really really good party is showing the world just how quickly people can be taken out of their daily lives and thrown into chaos without losing their humanity. This brings me to why this is going to be so difficult.

People Don’t Like Parties, They like Community

be honest with yourself. Do you like parties? If so why? Most of us go through some sort of phase where we want to party all the time party all the time party all the tiiiiiiimmmmmeeeeee and that’s great. As you get older, you realize how unsustainable that is. Some people turn it into their livelyhood, others reduce the amount of partying they do, and some give it up entirely. If you’re lucky you’ll find a tribe of some sort with a regular gathering. Right now, I have the open mic on Thursday’s at the Corner Beet. Before that, it was Taco Tuesday’s in Maine. For a lot of people, I assume you have some sort of religious affiliation that suits this purpose. Regardless of how you do it, you sort yourself into a community. The question becomes what does your community want to do? Surely, some isolation for your group is going to be achieved but total isolation is impossible. Eventually your group is going to want to be part of something bigger than itself or grow and swallow other groups; however, as a member of one of these groups, you probably want things to stay the same. After all, this is where you found happiness. This is what you know. This saved you when your life became unsustainable and taught you how to live well and prosper. A party of sufficient size will damage that. So The Red Rocks Show is in this weird space where if no one shows up, it wouldn’t be worth it to go, and if everyone shows up, your community will be altered. If we end up doing a giant wall of death the night before as planned, some people in your community might very well die. Not to mention, I’m poor and unknown. I’ve tried to organize events in the past that simply fell through. Most of what I try and do is given up on at some point. Still, I have every reason to believe this is the right track to stick on and I’ll tell you why.

Parties Breed Community.

A good party is incredibly wasteful. You waste your time, body, mind and a whole lot of single serving plastic. IT IS NOT EASY TO RAGE. A rager is almost akin to a war zone when done properly, and yet, there is very little fighting. Most of the casualties come in the form of accidents. There is definitely a point to be made about thievery and sexual assault. That shit is not cool. However, Much like a war zone, a rager is something that wasn’t supposed to happen. Drugs are illegal. Fighting is illegal. Public spaces require you to wear clothes. Sure the current system is designed so you can get a little loose. Every now and then you can go to your local club or concert hall, get a little messed up, mosh a little, and wear skimpy outfits. However, name one event outside of burning man or the original Woodstock where all that flies out the window and nobody knew what would happen next. Anyone who wants to make a living off of throwing events wouldn’t dream of putting such an event together. Part of the industry is keeping good relations with venues and artists and you can’t really do that being known as the person who throws events that get people killed and lose money. That being said who wouldn’t want to be part of it? Who wouldn’t at least want to watch the shitshow? Look at the way we consume war footage and porn. Look at the way we search to be part of something greater than ourselves. Look at the way Game of Thrones combines sex and violence to create a shared experience that even people who don’t like the show want to be part of. Look at the way people get themselves into debt chasing a feeling. People love this stuff. People need this stuff. It gives us something to talk about and a reason to remember. 1984 states these qualities of humanity as the reason for perpetual war. These qualities are what makes The Purge series hit so close to home. These are also the qualities that gave us Project X. We all know they exist and motivate us. They’re why minute men cling to politics to justify blood lust. They’re why women dress in practically nothing knowing that some asshole will take it as a request for assault. They’re why people addicted to money will sacrifice scores of human lives to cling to a fortune. We’ve always been ashamed of these qualities, but despite or best efforts to eliminate them, we can’t get rid of them. A true party gives us both a chance to express these and learn how to channel them into something that creates joy. The world needs something like this that isn’t put together by money addicts. We need a party for the people, by the people. A giant middle finger to ethical and moral authorities that says “we would be fine without you and we’re tired of killing each other for your benefit. To prove this, we are going to disregard your rules and make it through the night.”

When I was in high school, one day we decided to have a conga line. All we did was tell everyone it was going to happen and brought speakers. We didn’t ask the school. We didn’t have permission. We couldn’t even get the right song to work but we had that line going all up and down a 150ft hall. On April 1st 2020 we’re making new friends at Red Rocks. They don’t know yet. No acts are booked. I hope you’ll be there.

As always, Thank you for reading,


P.s. again I don’t really want to get famous so please excuse me if I don’t do all the try hard stuff of creating a sustainable brand. This whole concept was born to die to be born again to die again and so on.

It's My Birthday!!!!!

Dear you, Reading this,

These past months have been eventful; however, I haven’t been motivated to write. I’ve been doing daily blog posts on Youtube. Most of the episodes get deleted after 2 months or so. This may seem foolish. I think it is much more condusive to the way we live our lives.

Memory in the human brain is not exact. Each time you remember something, the memory is changed. You aren’t so much reading a file in your brain so much as reinnacting a play. The lines may be the same, but they’re not said the same or the costumes are different or vise versa. In a way, this is how the brain does everything. your eyes don’t see nearly everything in your field of vision. Your ears can be primed to hear things that aren’t there. Your tongue is easily tricked by toothpaste in the morning. We are always making our best guess. Your memory is your brains best guess based on what neural pathways remain after an event. I submit that the internet works in a similar fashion.

Most of my internet life has been destroyed in one form or another. My favorite site as a kid was Sheezyart and that is defunct. Anything I would’ve posted on Myspace has been lost to a file clearing algorithm. Some of my favorite videos have been scrubbed from the internet so hard that my friends and I tell legends of them popping up again. People seem to have this idea that the internet never forgets and I’m here to tell you it does. Much like a goldfish, If something is left unattended on the internet, it will die. Is this a problem? No not really.

Let’s briefly talk about image board culture. It doesn’t particularly matter which one because while there are some tweaks in each algorithm, this concept I’m about to outline stays pretty much intact. This isn’t even new information, I just think we need to remember it.


Let me explain Image boards. Internet interaction is not that far removed from normal human interaction. There is an extra layer of protection, however, it is often more visible than a polite face to face. That happens with any technology though. Clothes can protect you from knives, they can also hide knives and signal status. There are probably still people out there who don’t trust people with sleeves. An Image board is like a mosh pit in a quiet room. Anyone casually observing would probably feel indifferent or entertained. Maybe they might try and interviene or join in. Anyone randomly swept up in it would probably hate it. The people moshing would probably be aware of the fact that the room is silent, but not really mind. Who is honestly going to try and stop a mosh pit in a quiet room? There is no band to stop playing. Image boards like facebook, imgur, reddit, tumblr, or instagram are the rooms and I garauntee somewhere in each of them, the mosh pit is raging. Whether it be some form of bigotry or brand loyalty, someone is there just to keep the mosh pit of ideas going. Get swept in and you may not lose, but your ego will get bruised and it’s probably not worth it. I love a good mosh pit. I go onto image boards primarily to have a nice conversation with a total stranger, but I am always ready to tweak someone’s brain. There are plenty of other people like me and honestly… nothing matters much anymore.

If you are the kind of person who seeks to duke it out with words on the internet, you’ve probably seen almost every angle of most debates. Sure you could talk about the news, but that normally filters down to the same arguments you’ve rehashed a million times. If you are on one of the sites that isn’t anonymous and people start to follow you, you have a nice echo chamber to protect yourself. If you don’t have followers, it’s an easy reason to dismiss your views. If you are on an anonymous site, any post could be a lie for fun. What’s the point of engaging unless you want to practice for when you come face to face with that viewpoint? When I say “nothing matters except for now” I mean it the way a yogi or shawoman would tell you that the most important person is the one standing in front of you. The other people on the image board may be robots. Some people are there just to create rage. Some have made bots JUST FOR creating outrage. They are the mosh pit. If you see that happening and you don’t want to get beat up DON’T RUSH IN. That being said. The pit will forget everything eventually. Until then it will keep track of mistakes you thought were long buried. It will bring Harassment to your doorstep. It will tell you to kill yourself. It might try and kill you. It might succeed. It will take others content and claim it as it’s own. it will act like there is a good and evil to be sussed out when we all know it’s just a release of pent up aggression. It will put you on a path of an impossible goal and tell you that you were always failing and continue to fail. You are always wrong just for participating. Even if you think you’ve won for a while, kids will defy you just because authority sucks man.

plenty of thought pieces say that internet culture has given the monsters of the world a voice. To an actual monster it may seem that way. Plenty others say the internet has shown that the way you get power is by making people angry whether out of jealousy or repulsion. I say this. Without knowing how to be content, we will settle for tired. Without knowing how to connect, will settle for slamming into each other. This isn’t a problem. It’s part of what makes us fun. Nothing matters until it does, now. One day this will all be forgotten. There will be no image boards. No mosh pits in quiet rooms. If you doubt me just ask my old internet life. Oh wait… you can’t.

As always, thank you for reading,


Danger Isn't My Middle Name. It's His

Dear you, reading this,

Life sure has been more eventful since starting the vlog. Unfortunately, I have been slacking off on the podcast. In addition, I’m starting to fall into the trap where I’m paying more attention to view count on the videos than how I like the content. In this modern world, it’s never been more important to take ownership of your craft. Because of this, I deleted some of my old mixtapes. The OG Wullums fan reached out and asked for them. So in the spirit of getting through the winter, here’s some old school K-Wullums foor y’all

as always, Thank you for reading,


Not Dead Yet

Dear You, Reading This,

We’re still doing stuff. I started a vlog and A-Wullums and I keep recording the podcast. Meanwhile I’m Slowly typing up lyrics and figuring out new avenues to finaince the journey. I’m a little unmotivated to put out the podcast because we started incorperating music and I’m unsure of the legality of it. It’s not that I’m worried about getting sued. I would just prefer to know how to make the recording artists and labels happy. I know this is short but I just wanted to let y’all know we are out in the relative vicinity of these streets. I tried to hook up an outlet yesterday in my room because I run everything off an extension cord and that’s a fire hazard. The outlet isn’t working.

As always, Thank you for reading,


Cancer and Car Crashes

Dear you, reading this,

Do you ever think that maybe like, marijuana, like hinders you a bit? I only bring this up because since getting my med card, I have felt much better, but our podcast release and band practice schedule has fallen to pieces. In all fairness, it's more the party scene than anything. I've been going to a ton of shows and when I'm not at shows, I'm at open mics and the one night of the week where I'm not out, I'm in a 14hr hibernation. Every night there is the hope of making a connection that will lead to more content, but the content is getting harder and harder to produce. Free time is a rare commodity for the working class. I don't expect anyone to be sympathetic though. Party culture seems decadent and superfluous. You don't hear about ants partying. There's also the element of sexual promiscuity and recreational drug use that is frankly dangerous.

You know what else is dangerous? Driving. I got rear ended into another car a few days ago and now my trunk and the drivers side rear door won't open. Apparently, the car is totaled. While waiting for the police to arrive at the scene of the accident, I began chatting with the other drivers. The man who got hit by my car had just bought his 2019 Subaru STI and was lamenting the prospect of having to get his bumper repainted. According to him, you can't get the factory Subaru blue after market. I must admit, my heart goes out to the guy. Buying a new car is somewhat scary because of how much value it loses. You have to have personal reasons, probably tied up in pride, to buy one. Now it is damaged. Sure it's new but, the bumper doesn't even match. He had his cool car for 3 weeks before it was suddenly just another pile on the road. At least he had his health. I can't say the same for the woman who hit me. She had breast cancer. Of course I could see it. From the moment she got out of the car, I knew, but how do you approach something like that? Am I supposed to say "Hello, you've just caused an accident and oh gee, looky there, you seem to have gone a few rounds with chemo!?" I let her bring it up.  It didn't have anything to do with the accident. It just made me sad.

I didn't even know this person existed before she inconvenienced me. Now, I can't stop thinking about her. On some level, I know there are plenty of women suffering from breast cancer in my community. Five Years ago I lost a great aunt to it. However, It's not something I think about. I keep thinking about this lady. I want to ask her questions. What do you think about when that is your life? Sure, I could look up youtube videos of people with breast cancer and see what they have to say, but none of them rear ended my car. I don't care about them. It's not comfortable to say that the only reason I care is because I saw something alive in her. There was something in the way she acted that was immediately relatable. It's hard to transmit that in large numbers or over great distances. We've gotten pretty good at it. More people care about more stuff than ever. That should be a sign that we understand the humanity in others.

Trepidation comes with the knowledge that I most likely will never speak to her again. Ideas and actions both are often compared to fire. There's a spark. It catches on. A great Idea or a momentous action are often compared to lightning striking. In our modern world where so many ideas and prompts for action are thrown at us each day, it seems like every one's head is on fire. Much like one cannot see the forest for the trees, we can no longer see the fire for the sparks. We get all these statements about new ideas, individual actions, and trends, but what is actually spreading? Is it love,fear, knowledge, truth, lies or is each dialectic being shifted? Is everything just being amplified? I don't know, but I wonder if the lady who rear ended me thinks about that stuff. Maybe she was thinking about it when she didn't see my car stopped. I think about that stuff when I'm driving. It could've just as easily have been me. The fire would've danced the same.


As always, thank you for reading,



J Say of the Day: Creating a future is inevitable. Why not imagine the possibilities?

Fight, Flight, Freeze, Flop, Friend

Dear you, reading this,

After my court hearing today, I spent all day sleeping. I woke up and went downtown for a couple of hours and now I am ready for sleep again. During my drives, I listened to podcasts about the news and the cocaine queenpin who invented the motorcycle drive-by shooting. I'd like to talk about fear in the modern first world.

I'm not afraid of death itself. In fact, for years now I've contemplated suicide. This is not a cry for help nor an attempt to be edgy. In my mind, it's not even depressing. There are many people living today who fear their life may end sooner than they'd like. I'm not a parent, but from what I hear that fear extends to their children. Millions are starving in Yemen.  Thousands of people are getting gunned down in the Philippines. Hell, even in America, cops are shooting hundreds and disproportionately attacking people of color. Gun violence is scaring kids away from schools and gang violence is terrifying people in their neighborhoods. I'm sheltered from all of that. I have huge confidence that I'll see several years to come. This is the privilege of being a white male in middle-class suburban America. In my mind death is a choice. Either I want to keep living or not. No one is going to take it from me. That doesn't mean I'm immune to fear. I'm afraid of debt, lack of social mobility, and losing relationships. Lately, I've been afraid of what the courts might do to me based on what amounts to a frivolous charge. My greatest fear is not doing enough. It used to be not being great or remembered after I die, but what does any of that matter if people aren't excited about life?

From a very young age, I was told that I was special and smart. I was literally told I was going to change the world. I've heard pundits and media personalities refer to people in my generation as "snowflakes" and I can definitely see where they're coming from. I can't be the only one who was given every opportunity to find success and let it fall by the wayside because they believed they were meant for something more. When something better didn't fall into my lap, I did what was easiest. It's only now looking back that I realize how misguided I was and to a large extent still am. This post isn't going to change anything. That terrifies me. I'm so scared that this is what my life amounts to. I'm scared that I came into this world with the ability to make it better for the ones who need help and I squandered it because I couldn't and can't see past my own hubris. Some days this fear paralyzes me. I see people out there fighting for change and then, I get scared that they will fail because people like me exist and won't put their ego's aside and do what it takes to make the world better.

We used to believe there were two responses to fear: fight or flight. I know I have engaged in both of these. I have lashed out at the ones I love because I was afraid they were holding me back. I have left relationships, homes, states, and countries, because I was afraid that I couldn't succeed within them. Recently, I've learned that there are more recognized responses to fear: freeze, flop, and friend. These have been my responses lately. I get scared of my own inabilities and instead of focusing on fixing them, I hide in my room. I sleep. I speak less. I become oddly proud of how detached I be. When I look back at these times and note how it has caused me to slip into inaction, I get scared. The fear leads once again into hiding, sleeping, and detaching.

There is another response to fear which I don't think gets talked about nearly enough: acceptance. When I accept that I'm afraid, I no longer feed into it. Fear becomes just another observable part of life and I can choose whether or not to focus on it. Focusing on fear can be wonderful. Knowing why you're afraid and observing it from a distance can allow you to determine what is causing it and whether or not it's serving you. Being afraid of the hole in my tooth leading to greater tooth decay will compel me to sign up for medicaid and see a dentist. That's good. Being afraid of socializing compels me to stay home when my friends put on shows and could use the support. Often, that particular fear is useless because I've successfully socialized throughout my whole life and always have fun doing it. What's important to note is those conclusions aren't reached when reacting to fear by fighting, fleeing, freezing, flopping, or submitting to the cause. In order to make a beneficial change, fear must be accepted. It's a part of life that can be studied and acted upon, not an unstoppable force. If it seems that way, accept it as such and see if it changes.

I'm not a medical professional and by no means a role model. My life, although difficult at times, has been sheltered and privileged. In life or death situations, I assume biology will overtake the body and cause one of the five responses listed in the title; However, what may seem like life or death isn't always and my sincere hope is that by accepting your fear, you will be able to manage it whatever the cause may be.

as always, thank you for reading,


J say of the day: I'd say those who stigmatize mental illness are mentality ill, but I try not to stigmatize mental illness.


P.S. If this seems like I'm contradicting my earlier claims of nonexistence I'd like to note that the body I inhabit came with memories, family, and friends. Just because I know I'm not supposed to be here doesn't mean they accept it and it's easier to just let them believe I'm the same guy they knew and love. Please bare with the slipping in and out of a constant life narrative. This is confusing for me too. If it makes it easier, the switch happened August 30th 2015.

Help I'm Alive

Dear you, reading this,

I'd like to tell you some stories about right and wrong, sobriety and intoxication, and intentions betraying results.

I went to a Watsky show at the Odgen Theater. If you've never been, it has a tiered dance floor and a balcony. Watsky put on a hell of a show, but that's not what I want to talk about. During the song "Woah Woah Woah," it became apparent I had to get on that stage. It didn't happen during that song because the crowd in the first tier of the dance floor was too packed and the fence between the crowd and stage would've been too high to effectively climb before jumping the gap onto the stage. The dream would have to wait until the encore. When his earlier hit "Sloppy Seconds" started playing, I knew I had to make my move. Stage right was guarded by a hulking bouncer standing next to the stairs. Stage left was guarded by an elderly man standing in front of the stairs. During the second chorus I opted to try and get past the former. As I hopped the railing of the staircase to the stage I felt his fingers brush along my pant leg. Had I not been wearing skinny jeans, he might've caught me. Before I knew it, I was face to face with Raquel Rodriguez who was in the process of singing the chorus. Our eyes locked and she gave me a look that seemed to say "what are you doing here?" without missing a beat. I'm sure the look in my eyes replied with "I don't know." Security guards were closing in on all sides and I did what I had come to do.  I lunged off the stage into the hands of the unprepared crowd. Hands slapped my shoulders and unfamiliar voices congratulated me as I made my way into the crowd. I got as far as the back of the first tier before the sausage like fingers of the bouncer I had evaded grabbed  my lapel. This time it was clear there was no getting past him. The bouncer sat me down in the lobby across from a police officer which was, in its own way, terrifying. Part of my pretrial arrangement requires me to disclose any recent encounters with the police. I'm not sure they would be understanding of this particular type of risk taking. Luckily, another bouncer arrived and told the grabby meat sack to ask me kindly to leave. Outside the venue, a homeless man grabbed my friends beard while we discussed what had just happened. That was an odd way to cap off the night. What I find odd about this experience is I'm not so sure I would have attempted the stage dive if I had not been sober. Most people who care to comment seem to think that intoxication leads to bolder decisions and looser morality; however, I find it to be quite the opposite. There is nothing to humble you in a clear state of mind, except perhaps, the threat of retribution. I don't have the data to back this up so take it with a grain of salt. What I can say with confidence is the stage dive made me feel alive. It's a feeling that seems to be appearing in my life in short intervals that are becoming fewer and farther in between.

Between that story and the next, my friend Robb and I went to Kumasi Washington and Vulfpeck at Red Rocks. It felt great to be back. The show was amazing and that's all I'll say about that because the drive up might've been more memorable than the concert. We rode in my Grammy's car which has a handicapped placard hanging from the mirror. Seeing this, the Parking attendants started waving us up even though there were cars parking down by the box office. For those who don't know, the box office is about a mile away from any entrance. As we wound our way up the road, a keen eyed parking attendant noticed that Robb and I were able bodied. He asked us to kindly turn right at the next fork into a side lot. When we made it to the fork, about halfway to the entrance, the next parking attendant waved us forward. We ended up in a handicapped spot right next to the gate. We were trembling at this point, thinking that at any moment someone would call our bluff. I walked out of the car with a limp just to sell it. There is no moral here, just know Red Rocks will give you a free soda if you agree to be the designated driver. No problem for a man who is legally barred from drinking.

Speaking of legal issues. I had my first court date on May 11th. It was what's known as a filing of charges and basically they asked me if I had a lawyer and gave me a sheet of paper informing me that I am being put on trail for a felony. What interests me about this is the lawyer situation. Believe or not, I don't make any money of my art or music and, in fact, invest quite heavily in it. If my income was based on my pay before taxes, I would qualify for a public defender. Because it is based on gross pay (before taxes). My options are to take less hours at work or hire a private attorney which would cost me five months salary. Can you guess which option I'm going to choose? The American Justice system makes fools of us all.

A few days later, Lauren and Kate from episode 9 of our podcast, Ye Ultimate Party, threw a birthday party for Lauren and it was awesome. They had amazing food and a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Initially, I felt a little alienated because I couldn't take place in the libations or ganja. I had to do a little soul searching to figure out why this was. In high school I had no problem going to parties without drinking or smoking. At the time, it was a point of personal pride to be the sober kid. At Lauren and Kate's party it only served to remind me that I am currently being thought of as a felon by the state. Several psychologists and guru's will tell you that it is not our circumstances, but rather what we think about our circumstances that control our emotions and feelings. This was certainly the case for me. Both in high school and at current parties, I do not need drugs or alcohol to have a good time. I am no longer of the belief that they would only serve to do me harm or decrease my enjoyment of an evening; However, I am all too aware of the risk intoxication poses. I can get past small feelings of alienation if it keeps me out of jail. The only thing real difference between the past and now is pride has turned to shame. At this point, I just want to be a free person again.

However, do I deserve to be? This last story occurs in the not to distant past and has been haunting me recently. Several prominent figures have been arrested or denounced for sexual misconduct. I could tell you the story about how a woman got me drunk with the intention of getting me to sleep with her or several stories about a man I slept with who continued to harass me after our affair. Instead, here is the story about one of the biggest mistakes of my life. A woman I was dating was not having a good day. Her work was stressing her out so we went on a hike before she had to go in, but it didn't seem to help. In the past, I had been able to cheer her up with some physical pleasure. At this point in time, it's clear that everyone has moods and what worked in one situation may not work in future endeavors.  After the hike, we drove to her work and had about a half hour to chill. I asked if she wanted to cuddle in the back of the car. While there, under a blanket, I slid down our pants and proceeded to penetrate her. I could tell it was uncomfortable, but I thought it was my fault for not doing it right. Maybe the angle was off? It wasn't the angle. When I had finished she ran out of the car crying. I had messed up bad. I could say something about how she didn't tell me to stop but I don't want to put blame on her. I should have known that I wasn't doing the right thing. We continued to date for a time. Afterwards we had a few chance encounters. For a time she sent me postcards. Now she doesn't speak to me. There are probably any number of things I did in that time that are responsible for her excommunicating me from her life. There's a chance that this is all water under the bridge and I'm just scared of what would happen to me if people thought I was hiding this. Putting this information out in public may make her resent me more. Who knows? I'd like to believe that this is the right thing to do. Other people need to know how important it is to be absolutely sure that your partner is consenting. You may end up making a huge mistake and regretting it for years to come even after the relationship ends. To this day I'm scared of jumping into relationships for fear that I'll make this mistake again, even though I've had successful relationships since. It's strange. The state is charging me for possession of psilocybin.  Even if I had, I would not feel guilty. Mushrooms have benefited many and the laws against them are unjust and ignorant. No retribution was taken for what I did to a girl whom I loved very deeply, and yet, I've carried it as a stain on my character ever since. I can't speak for her. I know she's living a life without me that is probably much happier. Still I can't shake the image of those tears and how remorseful I felt. Please treat those you love with all the care and decency you can muster.

As always, Thank you for reading,


J say or the day: There's enough important things going on to make everything unimportant.