Tuesday, September 2, 2014


What if we all evolve into jellyfish?

Jellyfish have no brains, so they don't feel pain in the way that we understand pain and yet they retain the capability to interpret other stimuli.
They live in perfect harmony with each other and the ocean because, in fact, their constitution is mostly ocean.

Sometimes, if I'm at the beach, I'll take a second to get about chest deep in the ocean water.
I'll jump through and tumble around in the waves a bit.
Those moments help me to understand just how big the world is and how we all have a role in it.
In those moments, I feel free.

Jellyfish don't have hearts, so they don't get their feelings hurt.
They just are.
...they do have stomachs though :)

Tuesday, July 1, 2014


I walked into my son’s room.
He was just waking up, but he didn’t say anything, so neither did I.
I knelt down beside his crib and held his hand.
He started picking at a scab on my knuckle from hitting the heavy bag.
I became aware that my hand was callused and scarred, fingers knobby and crooked from years of getting jammed, smashed, and exploded.
His hands were so soft and perfect.
I hoped that I could be like him again someday.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

...butt threads

Butt threads?

It’s pronounced: but threads.

It looks like ‘butt threads’ to me.

Well, you can write it like this:

It’s short for, “the universe is an intricate tapestry…and we are but threads.” It’s a commentary on how we’re all interconnected. The perceived barriers between people are just that, ‘perceived.’  And what’s more, the distinctions between anything are not as stark as they appear to be. Electrons are constantly moving from atom to atom. Everything is connected. Also, the first and last letters are ‘WS’ which can be initials for ‘WarriorSperm’ or ‘West Side,’ depending on the viewer. Plus, ‘threads’ has connotations of t-shirts which is a bonus. It's poetic.

I think it's dumb.
Well I'm sure you're not the first, and certainly won't be the last. I don’t mind if I get cross-traffic from people looking for g-strings. I like it.
...I guess it’s just like me...a noble intent, intrinsically flawed.

Friday, March 14, 2014

...the life series

"Good Friends We've Lost"
A hundred miles an hour down Pacific Coast Highway in Wilmington; we thought those days and nights would never end.
Eleven young adults haphazardly crammed into a 1984 brown Chevy Camaro Iroq Z-28 with two-tone brown interior, chrome Trans Am rims, and three ten inch kickers in back.
Candle lit vigils strewn across the pavement like candy.
So commonplace, you forget that someone lost their life, or rather, had their life taken.
‘Gone but not forgotten’ is all they can say.
The setting sun kissed the candles just before it went away.
Viva la luz

 "Good Friends We Have"
No one knows his real age or name for that matter, but he is most commonly referred to as B.L.E.S., The Prince of Cambodia, or Yung So What.
They say he is over 100 years old and that he’s never slept, but I don’t believe that kind of superstition.
Like Sacajawea, he’s led us through the alleys and back-roads of Los Angeles.
Narrowly evading the authorities (and sometimes not) in search of cuisine and adventure.
Chinatown, K-town, Little Tokyo, the Arts District, East Los, Echo Park, the Harbor Area.
From 10pm to 6am, we put our lives in his hands and he guides us to the other side.
Viva la noche

Thursday, January 23, 2014

...femme fatale

Just a reminder that all of our shirts are fully customizable.

Modeled by fashion icon Alysia Vigil

Photos by the legendary Olinda Plancarte

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

...the origins series

Photographs by the infamous Joshua Araujo of San Pedro Tattoo.

'For Mom' was inspired by my mother's childhood street, Jackrabbit Lane in Scottsdale.
Built in the early 1960s, it's an enclosed community bordering Carson and Wilmington, California.
Broken dreams amidst broken glass.
No guests after midnight.
Someone once scraped "FUCK YOUR LIFE" on my car window.

'For Pops' was inspired by my father's place of employment.
He's a roughneck at the Tesoro refinery bordering Carson and Wilmington, California.
Two years ago, my dad was working his shift with his best friend Willy and a few other guys.
A railcar ran through the loading rack and pinned Willy.
My dad bolted over to his assistance, but instead found his best friend cut in half.
My dad told me that he fell to his knees crying. Then he started praying.

William Barry Wise (1957 - 2011)

An earlier blog post about my dad and the refinery

Shirts for sale at:

Thursday, August 29, 2013

...artist spotlight 1

This is the first in (hopefully) a series of intermittent artist spotlights.
I've selected six songs from these artists.
If they're not already, maybe they can be a part of your life as well.
Make a playlist of these songs and let them play in the background while you're driving, or at work, or cutting vegetables.
Slowly but surely it will begin to become apparent.
You are a hero on a hero's quest.
And are exactly where you should be.

Billy Corgan