The Toys of Richman Gomez

As I'm reminded of today's idiocracies with an overindulgence of ads, cheap marketing techniques by influencers, and videos of a hippo and a cherub kissing one another (Baldur's Gate 3?), the memory of a CTA ride comes flooding back.

At one point within the last year or so, I steadily and carefully avoided taking the CTA buses to prevent any futile encounters (public transit is filled with them). A day arrived when I was forced to take it due to some weather conditions. For whatever reason that compelled me, I hopped on a public vehicle and sat in the back. I surpassed quiet folks, with only a few minding their own business in the same section. All seemed well for the time being as I distracted myself with some reading, until a particular man approaches the final row of seats, the same section where I am at.

Enter Richman Gomez, an amateur crackhead failing in his late 20s-early 30s. The image (above) was taken in secret, with Gomez lighting up a small crack pipe while shielding himself from public view. The young man takes a few hits while occasionally looking over his seat for any witnesses. It's a shame that this embarrassment failed to take note of his hidden photographer, sitting just a seat away from him.

Admittedly, some panic was ravaging through my body as I took this shot. The man was in to smoke and out within a couple of stops, eventually getting off around the Portage Park area. A million possibilities started to fly by regarding his next steps, but then I halted the thinking process.

Perhaps it was because it would lead to a dead road, a journey with no reward, from the start through the middle and until the end. With how Chicago treats its broken and lost souls, hope is not on the table. In truth, I don't believe it ever was.

I recall once when someone mistakenly said, "The Shitty of Chicago," in the middle of an improv show. Despite the setting, the idiom fits, especially with how the city's current mayor is handling the migrant crisis, crime rates, racism claims, and other political fiascos. It's hard to refer to Chicago as a city now without reminding myself of the hilarious mistake that happened long before the mayor's obligatory inauguration.

Verily, I cannot give a solid reason as to why I called this individual Richman Gomez. I once ran into someone who shared some similarities, though the connection is incredibly hallow. There's some reliability behind his toys as we can see in the image, and that dependency can only go so far until he's inhaling a different kind of dirt.

P.S. Reminder to bring Febreze onto the CTA for future rides.

Note: Photo has been edited for obvious reasons, though it does appear to be rather suggestive after looking at it from a different angle. Therefore, the original copy belongs only to me. Smiley face.

Apologies to My Blog

06/29/21

A lot has shifted in the past few months, that I tend to forget that I have this blog. It's a shameful thing to think, too. For so long I used this blog to stretch my skills and build a portfolio. Back then I didn't have any credentials, and almost no freelancing gig is going to provide a position to a kid who just writes here and there. So, I kept writing short stories and applying like mad hell until I landed something.

It wouldn't be until just last year when I applied for The Nerd Stash. I had enough SEO experience to feel confident about this one, and it was a worthwhile effort. Within a week, I had published a few articles as a test run before Jeremy, the editor-in-chief, decided to officially bring me on board.

Before I knew it, I was reviewing games and composing news articles that would get published on the same day that I submitted them. Now I almost do it daily, with an additional position at Guide Fall to keep myself busy. I write everyday about video games, and that certainly does put a smile on my face.

I somehow managed to blend my hobbies with my growing career - I never thought that'd be possible. I always wanted to design video games, but I don't possess the artistic sleight of hand to make a creature spring to life. Once, I dreamt of becoming an astronaut, but the idea of being in the vast vacuum of space is a terrifying concept to me; I see myself shitting my suit...and you only get one suit while you float amid planet Earth. Of course, when I was young, I really wanted to be a Jedi. It is possible, but I'll save myself the embarrassment. At least lightsabers are becoming a reality.

As aforesaid, I do write everyday, and it's almost always pertaining to video gaming. They're news pieces, listicles, guides, reviews, anything you can think of when it comes to the industry.

09/02/2022

More than a year after I updated this post, a lot has developed. I won't get into too many details but essentially: I still write for TNS and GF - so I'm technically a full-time writer during the week; couple of hospital visits conflict with my nonsense (as I currently type with an itchy splint); starting to collect some vinyl records, etc. 

However, that being said, I miss committing my time to just composing onto this blog. I've encountered so many intriguing folks that I'm proud to have had made into characters who walk along Desolation Row. I'll never forget about the moment I wanted to start this blog like it was yesterday...some guy on the Blue Line looks to me while I'm listening to music via ear buds, tells me to take them off, then says:

"I gotta lay this on someone, and I can’t keep this bottled up. I’m headed to the casino right now to do something illegal, but it kind of isn’t really illegal; I’ve done it before and nothing has happened. I just needed to tell someone that, because I’m gonna kill myself if I don’t tell anyone. Okay? Thank you. Don’t tell anyone. Thank you.”

Of course, I proceeded to return to my buds after he went back to his psychopathic world. But little did I know, that interaction would inspire me to write about people, but just change their name while rearranging their faces. 

I think I'm ready to publish this post now. I honestly don't know why I neglected the first half of this writing. I know writing elsewhere has something to do with it, but even now I still type, and I'm still having a blast experimenting with my wordplay.

Be excellent to each other.

-C.

The Electric Butterfly

I've thought over and over again about how to approach your death. There's always the promising lyrical ballad or a special character in a story, but I'm sincerely at a loss.
Losing a friend is, no doubt, a tough experience, but that certain trauma is elevated when the killer was herself. Her inner demons got the best of her. And now I can't see her anymore.
So I decided to throw on some tracks that we would listen to and began to reminisce on the good memories. This is a recollection of my late friend, Anita. 

Backyard by Mad Caddies

Probably the earliest track that I can recall, Backyard was one of the tracks on the Mad Caddies' album "Keep It Going" that we played whenever we hung out with the crew. I liked to mess around with you because you were usually the only girl in the group, and you understood my sense of humor. You fit right in with all of us, and I was getting excited about learning more about you. 
Now, whenever that song or album begins to play, I think of that cute smile and laughter you didn't shy away from showing. Especially when you pulled out the ukelele and started playing to our general annoyance. We didn't tell you to stop - perhaps because we all just adored you. The soft strums on that instrument echoed throughout the smoky room, trading lyrics and looks as we remained in a peaceful circle of friends and brothers.

Today by Jefferson Airplane

One day, you messaged me in regards to looking for new music to listen to. Knowing me, I went back to the 60s to look for an extraordinary song that went nicely with her tendency to be a hippie of sorts. It inspired her to draw something impressive, though I can't bring to mind what exactly it was. But the song represented her more peaceful and loving side. It's a slower song by her standards, but I remember her telling me that she enjoyed the tune. I don't know why but to me that was a big compliment. The mates would criticize my taste in music (mainly toward the synthwave playlists and anything from Bob Dylan), but she admitted that it was a great song, and I felt closer to her because of that. 
I couldn't show her much after that due to moronic drama among friends, but I like to think she'd listen to that song and find a place in her soul to be at peace. 
The sole image of you with your eyes closed as you listen to a song is stapled into my memory.

Redemption by Zacari & Babes Wodumo

One time, we all got super colorful and comfy that we threw on the Black Panther soundtrack and just relaxed on the couch, passing tea and passing time. I was thoroughly excited to listen to it since we were still on the big Marvel hype train to Infinity War, and everyone in that house was a big fan. The tracks were playing and we were vibing to it until I looked over at you and noticed that a dark cloud was overlooking you. I've dealt with the cloud before (still do) but it disturbs me to see it affecting others close to me. So I moved over to you on the couch and sat next to you, asking if everything was okay. You told me the truth, and I offered my shoulder. Easy breathing and easy being, we barely spoke and simply listened to the album, which was playing "Redemption" at this point in time. For a good chunk of the listening session, we remained in that position, and I didn't want to leave. It wasn't romantic or anything stupidly superficial - we were just in each other's presence at this moment. I felt pretty okay, and I hope you did, too. I know how it feels to be truly alone, but she didn't deserve half the muck that life struck her with. 

I still don't feel complete, no soulful satisfaction from composing away the grief. Then again, 2020 was a harsh year (and 2021 isn't looking any better), but I wish she spoke to me about what was bothering her. I last sent her a message on Instagram, asking to hang out. And now with nothing to show for a response, I'll never know what she was thinking about when she was taking the coward's way out. I didn't go to the wake but I don't do wakes well, and all of our "friends" were going to be there, so it wouldn't have ended well. I'm still talking to them, but I have no hope. They stopped talking to me, and only started to get my attention again because of your death. A death in the broken circle of friends shouldn't reunite them to make things right. How can we make things right when you're gone? What's the use? 
I hate that I spend my free time thinking about the past, but it gives me a chance to remember the good times that we had. 
I'm happy we reconciled at the end, though. I'll see ya again one day, hun. 

 

She sways and swirls
Swinging a light-up hula hoop
In the edge of nighttime.

Sitting and watching
We're all in amazement
As she dances to the beat.

I stare as her figure shifts
Emitting shapes and lines
Too bizarre for pure screening.

My eyes lose focus
And her movements form into
An electric butterfly.

The EDM tunes ring in-line with her routine
Creating electricity that mentally shocks me
I'm merely at a loss for words.

The tune concludes
And you sprung into final form
As we applaud the talented and lovely Anita:
The Electric Butterfly

In the Stillness at Nighttime

When I was moving out the apartment, I figured that a new chapter would commence as the summer season was beginning its exit. It certainly did. After the brief vacation at the hospital, I was able to snag up a job, and continue writing for the websites to keep the fingers and words afloat. Since then, every day has been a different mission of varying calibers of thought and action.

It all feels so new now. I wake up to sunshine instead of the higher sounds of lawnmowers outside the basement spot, and I can easily step outside to smell the morning air. To think that none of this would be possible for at least another decade is a nice thought to process - one with satisfactory contemplation and reflection. It's good to stay busy in lieu of staying still.

As I sit at this new place of mine, listening to The Five Satins, I continue to wonder what other paths life could've dealt me with. I wake up with mild fear, but it soon morphs into serenity whenever I look back and think of the things before today. The plaza down the street can provide some fun tales to tell now that I'm closer to the madness of civilization, so I'm looking forward to discovering more individuals and quest items that tell a story of their own. Perhaps, one time in the stillness at nighttime, I'll be able to uncover a new adventure that's worthy of being written down.

Today in Nerd History...

43 years ago, the realms of cinematic creativity had evolved from the mind of an up-and-coming writer/director by the name of George Lucas. He would go on to develop the epic space narrative of Star Wars, spawning multiple sequels, spin-offs, and side quests down the line.

The original film was released in theaters back on May 25th, 1977.

I wrote a little piece about Lucas and his development with the movie in an article on The Nerd Stash where a few images from behind the scenes are featured along with a brief history on the film's impact in nerd history.

Much love.

May the Force be with you.