Justin Razor and the World

Im happy. In a quaint, simple, natural way, Im content. Oh, but its far more than that. Since the dissolution of a certain relationship, to say Id been guarded would be a disgusting understatement. I bounced listlessly between women, uncaring, callous and unrepentant. For any reading this, if I hurt you, I apologize, unless you deserved it. Id settled into my base nature flawlessly, situating myself securely on my own island, protected from the mainlands of real life by my own unrelenting, torrential oceans, powered by ego, lust, vanity and pride. As far as hedonism went, I was Patient Zero. I lived my life selfishly, giving little thought to the consequences of my actions, my compass drawn only toward the whims of my own desires and their satisfactions. But this is no way to live, especially for a man of my intellect. Only a fool can lose himself completely in carnality as it serves as a type of salve for his inability to cope with reality. Loneliness threatened to consume me, feeding...

I feel nauseatingly nervous everytime Im on the cusp of a session. In the past 2 weeks, according to my records, Ive made $1,047  all of this on the same $200 buy-in. I play because, in spite of everything Ive accomplished in the last few years, the personal milestones Ive reached, and the insatiable demons Ive conquered, I am still that petrified 18 year old, shaking like a Parkinsons patient, infected with a strange mix of excitement and anxiety. I remember living on free biscuits and bread from local pizza places, subsisting, along with my friends, on the charity of the compassionate and guilty. Driving to home game after home game, cash and tournament, only to post another confidence crippling loss. The long walk back to my 1998 Mazda Protege, moments after losing $100 for the first time, with tears obscuring my sight and fear gripping my heart, is what motivates me to study. I play to keep my beautiful girlfriend in the lifestyle she deserves, the long hours Im absent at night...

Life after the military is both exhilarating and intimidating. I long had aspirations towards a commission or becoming a SNCO, but, given recent events and policies being implemented, I doubt that I will continue past my current enlistment. I am in no way insulting or undermining the protectors of my beloved nation. All throughout my childhood and adolescence, thoughts and preoccupations with military life rattled around continually in my head. I initially believed them to be demons that I could never exorcise, the act itself one borne of futility. Before I was awakened by a sharp jolt of harsh reality, I believed that I was weak, feeble, and impotent to change my fate, let alone the next few years of my life as I saw fit. I believed that my very existence was held to the considerations and machinations of a variety of external forces, and that my own views, opinions and emotions were largely immaterial and irrelevant. Looking back as a man, I shudder at my own insouciance, but I a...

I am in love with this city, its whirlwind of flavor and culture, a veritable cornicopia of heart. I explore it with relish, employing the zest and passion a man usually reserves for his lover. Oh, and how enticing this place is, capturing my gaze effortlessly, flaunting its excitement in front of me coquettishly, amused as I lie in agony, overcome by an unrestrainable lust for life. The sun meanders carelessly along the glistening tops of curving cathedrals, strolling along languidly before retiring for the night, replaced by the flickering silver of the awakening moon. The sea, awash in bits of blinking light, the strobes of Neptune's heaven, blinds me as I start eagerly towards the beach. I am in love with the Autumn, reborn in the lavender of the setting sun, and enraptured by romance in all of its forms. It is the essence of who I am, and this place reflects that ideal. A resounding epiphany, and all Im doing is waiting on a tailor. As always, Im stricken with an inconsolable ...

When I was younger, I often had visions of the man I wanted to be as I aged. I wanted to be strong, broad-shouldered, charismatic, and wealthy. I’d like to think that I’ve achieved much of that in some regard, but while to others I may have reached the summit of the mountaintop regarding those goals, from my own perspective there is still much, much work to be done. And that’s good. Who would want to go through life easily capturing perfection, as if it was a child’s plaything? What would be the purpose of anything? I want to fulfill my desires with nearly fatal perspicacity defining my efforts. Too often, the spoiled, sheltered, wispy and coddled are shorn to the bone by the elements of reality. I know this lesson all too well, because I was one of them, cast into the world by the uncaring hand of my own naïve ambitions. By the time I had discovered my mistake, it was too late, and I thank God for that daily. It’s better to struggle seemingly vainly daily, to flex unbendingly agai...

Tonight my long, enforced solitude is ceasing. There's an excitement, crisp and boundless, riding the air recklessly, threatening to joyously infect me. For nearly 2 months Ive been calm and composed, a portrait of self-restraint. Each night Ive unwillingly been forced to leave you in the throes of that prison has reaked havoc on my masculine pride, my sanity, and my happiness. But after tonight, my wanderings will make the shift from frenzied escape to fruitful exploration. Youll be back in the saddle, and no nonsense, hearsay, or third party ineptitude will snatch you from my arms again. Ive spent many long, ultimately irrelevant hours steeping in my own self-aggrandizing contemplation. "What are your barracks like?" Abysmal. "Are you happy?" Hardly. "Are you strong enough to succeed and thrive given these maddening conditions?" Definitely. Your resolute, inherent resolve inspired me on many days that have until now gone unrecorded and unspoken. Of...

I love chaos. The primal rabidity of it, an orchestra of fury, barely contained yet expertly wielded. To enter a bar and feel the atmosphere thick and tense with unexpressed anger and rowdy racuousness, eagerly anticipating some type of social error or ill-timed aggression to set it ablaze, like a match lit casually and carelessly inside a room brimming with flammable gas. To feel a set of eyes drilling into your back, then meeting that very gaze with lightning in your heart and whiskey on your breath. I smirk and call you out, and you respond in kind. We are both arrogant, brash, young and lively. My arms flex strongly and your chest pumps wildly. We take a twin step forward and the dance for masculine supremacy begins. We are home. The problem plaguing men most today, in my opinion, is that, as a collective whole, we lack a legal, acceptable, sanctioned way to express our natural rage. Women will not understand this, partly because it has never been in their genetic makeup and most...

On nights like this one, where my mind presents no ready made subject matter to pontificate upon, I find myself enjoying the mental stillness. My mind races a mile a second, never mind a minute, on a grindingly constant basis. Any reprieve from the internal cacophony of lyrics, song ideas, vivid, rich visual imagery, potently powerful memories, and general wordplay is a pause I would occasionally kill for. After the completion of the day's second workout, a sense of calm came over me, a peace unmatched by the effects of any liquor or pill. I felt deeply, almost unnoticeably, a faint stirring in my soul, in the trenches of my subconscious. In that serene, contemplative grove where innocence lives unsullied and true faith never dies, I heard the voice of God, telling me that everything would be alright, always, no matter the treachery I read from the terrain stretched out before me. As this message echoed through the mountains of my internal landscape I smiled, both inwardly and outw...

I got a text from you today. Unexpected, but completely appreciated and happily recieved. You said we hadnt talked in awhile, and I agreed. Regretably, I had allowed the matter to slip from my mind. Hell, we both did. Life happens, and we're both caught up, our noses buried deep in our respective storybooks. You told me about school, about how you were uncertain as to what path you should take. Graduation loomed over the horizon, and both graduate school and living abroad beckoned to you with equal enticement. You were hesitant to make a decision, but you can rest assured that whichever choice you pick will reap handsome dividends, solely because you are the investor. You want to move cross-country, and I cant blame you. The world is vast, inviting, unknown and captivating. A young woman of your formiddable talents will effortlessly carve out not only a niche, but a cavernous wellspring bubbling with opportunity and opulence. Here's to the future, my beloved little sister. Your...

For as long as I can remember, Ive read, at the very least, one book a week. The volume of these books increased gradually as I aged, and by the time I had surrendered myself to the onslaught of puberty, the tomes I devoured regularly exceeded 250 pages in length. Naturally, I was praised by my teachers, parents and adults in general for the beneficiality of my reading habits. Far from stunting me socially, the cumulative effect of imbibing all of those words on such a consistent basis was ostentatious. My vocabulary was expanded at an accelerated rate, and I eagerly and easily absorbed unknown words into my lexicon. Conversation is a natural extension of writing, and I excelled at that as well. Debates were a fun source of intellectual amusement, and provided that no participant, myself and my legendary temper included, took no offense, served as an exemplary form of mental training. We learned to view abstract, incorporeal subjects that defied simple explanation as concrete, three di...