As life’s curveballs came harder & faster at David Hojak… throughout life’s progression, friends would line-up to assure him they’d “always be there.”

…… and yet, come HIS OWN “D-Day,” phone lines sat silent… parental influence having already been nullified entirely, years in advance. Mom was as “suddenly stricken” by my father “magically dropping dead” as everyone was with her doing the same… as she “carried on in his absence.” Back then, so long as her “kick” was achieved for the day… Mom’s “problems with happenings” were minimal… or she kept it to herself, if anything.

Suddenly, as the son of a now-dead father, with only her left (also given her new “habit”)… David Hojak took to finding habits of his own. Dad’s Martial Arts teachings motivated him to want to beat new friends up. His self-destructive hobbies made him curious, so for a time, he occasionally indulged. Older, physically-stronger friends would challenge David Hojak, and he’d out-strike them. Meanwhile, Dad’s music tastes sucked somewhat. I’d fondly remember him telling me that Journey‘s singer was better than Soundgarden‘s. We’d laugh, disagree, then, continue listening to his shit music. Now that he wasn’t going to be there for those kinds of father-son “sessions,” influences would come from new places… maybe, even my own mind.

A great example of my first rebellious youth “act” was the way I massacred my hair upon dad’s “departure.” This Mohawk idea was a poorly thought-out stunt from the start… and I should’ve just kept growing out my hair like the vocalist from “Tesla.” Rather, the influence of artists like ‘Bad Religion’ & ‘Minor Threat’ had me massacring my mane in my teens. While it worked in some ways whilst kicking Muay Thai a$$, it looked ridiculous every-f°°king-where else.

….. hence the middle-finger in the picture.

By the time I hit the age of fourteen, crap like this is unfortunately what became of my “look.” Back then, I was a walking, open-book of exhibited issues, outwardly frustrated. Then, over time, I began succumbing further to my diminishing benevolence. Friends were all I had. Family was all I knew to depend on when times got hard… even though most of them were f°°k-up’s. As a child, it was all “play nice” & “be loving” bullsh1t. Yet when times got hard for me, as an adult… no one, regardless of relation to me, was there… at all. It wasn’t until I started making phone calls & asking for assistance that it came… and only in brief instances, via ‘here & there’ requests each time.

Here & there, brief instances of temporary, hard-fought reprieve would offer themselves. These instances were always infrequent & fleeting, at best. At first, when young, it was as easy as finding a roommate if a romantic relationship failed… as heartless as that can sound. As I matured & “friends” became more aware of my health, my own “safe havens” became rarities. Fewer friends welcomed me with what seemed to me to be every passing week, at a point.

Suddenly, I left my home state. Then another. Then another. Then another. Before I knew it, I wasn’t even in my own country anymore… and I had no idea how I’d gotten to where I was along the way. Granted, a beloved friend helped to keep me “off the streets” in some of the worst neighborhoods America even has… and throughout those times, that collection of favors will be remembered forever.

All the precursors to me leaving California served as an incredible “training grounds,” upon which to find my own levity. To start this adventure onward from California, the end of one relationship turned into a cross-country journey… towards the beginning of yet another. So much had already come before one particular relationship, that I felt “ready for anything.”

It was literally the first time in my life I’d ever taken such a chance. It couldn’t have come closer to ending more disastrously if I’d authored it in a series of best-selling fiction novels… rather than actually living it. Such bravery in the moment, yet such density to what potential there was for it to all go wrong. A youthful, impulsive, almost “trademark” act, in ways…. intended-on, due to the conniving ways of an assumed “loved one.”

Before long, I once again found myself in poor health, remarkably unemployed, & this time, displaced from home entirely… but now, abandoned by yet another. I reached out to friends… and each one somehow had even worse psychological health than I did. All I had as an excuse was the sudden onset of cardiovascular & neurological conditions. In all fairness, the individualized singular-parenthood & doomed-alcoholism of some parties ultimately made them non-optional, in my eyes. Truthfully, I didn’t want to be any variety of alcoholism counselor. Even more honestly, I did not want to be raising some deadbeat bitch’s bastards… whether that bitch be the mother or father… especially given my condition.

It started with a move from Southern California to Michigan, then from Michigan to Nevada. After my first “rough patch,” I first flew back to So. Cal for some quick “90-Day Therapy,” after which I went & stayed with an uncle back in Nevada. After he kicked me out (while still hospitalized) once I’d fallen down his staircase, a Californian friend offered to help. Even with a healing broken arm & having been freshly-discharged from a three-month hospital stay… I quickly realized upon arrival that he’d gone from zero-to-alcoholic in 2.5 decades, and I kicked rocks with haste. After, I stayed with a dearly beloved friend from childhood back in So. Cal for some time, whose family helped me greatly… then, I visited Texas. I was there for a year.

After that Texan year, Baja called my name, and I traveled for what I thought would be a project. It ended-up summing up to a hair-brained (technological) shot-in-the-dark, lead by some douchebag do-nothing. Fundamentally, I wasted time & money to be at the behest of a moron for a month. At least the view and coastal weather for four weeks were nice.

Instead of relying upon others to fulfill you in your time with them… depend upon yourself to appreciate the beauty of what’s around you, in those moments, and in each moment. Train your own mind to see through these mirages of grandeur, and the sales-pitches. Enjoy what you can actually appreciate, for as long as you can. Make these “treats” for yourself as priority as possible, as quickly as possible.

Keep these “little luxuries” as personally “important” as possible. Start a day with goals, and conclude every single day with a checked-off list of completed tasks. If your list is incomplete, you’ve failed. Never settle for insufficiency or ineptitude, or inability. You’ve spent enough time on your own difficulties in life.

Keep this in mind: no one owes you a thing. Anything you want, you’re going to have to earn, unless you outright want to die… a risk naturally connected to stealing. Material possessions aren’t worth your time here. Neither is your sanity. There are nice ways to paint it pretty, and there are blunt ways of being truthful. Summed-up, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. Be respectful, be considerate, be polite & be positive. Offer worthwhile contributions wherever possible. Be supportive, and become someone others can respect. You don’t have to “try” to be “that guy,” the one that your closest others actually look up to… in so many ways, you’re already there.


“I’ll swallow poison, until I grow immune… I will scream my lungs out till it fills this room.”

~ Eddie Vedder