#cranialjam

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My attempt at a Hanko-style seal for my initials: JWA!

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Rant - Modern Punk Culture and The Big Fucking Circlejerk

I recently went to a concert in my city; had a few standout acts and one of my favorite crossover thrash bands, D.R.I. Love them to death and I had a fantastic time!

However, as I stood in the back to watch the show and observed the punk denizens like fauna of the untilled soil, I found myself reflecting on what it means to be a 'punk.'

One of the first bands started soon after, and one of their songs was "Sex Work is Real Work," and my thought was... Yeah. No shit. A few viewers were also shouting "ANARCHY!" Like these ideas are revolutionary. What is punk about this? Good music, sure, but where's the snark and bite? Where's the poetry?

This is all to preface a core thesis: Punk should be about doing what's right and building upward, not tearing everything down and repeating what the corporations tell us.

"Sex Work is Real Work" as one of the most anti-punk sentiments possible! Not because Sex Work isn't 'real work,' but because it fails to actually challenge the current idealized view of Sex Work and have the courage to say something crazy like, oh I don't know, the idea that we should try to live in a world where Sex Work isn't some people's ONLY option?

You know what else connects back to Punk's roots of challenging our views and the ideals of the powers that be? Questioning important topics and ideals held today! Where's the punk songs about:

The love of homemaking

The idea that not all women want the same goals and aspirations as male counterparts

The passion of offline artists

The value of compassion and connection over consensus of ideas

Appreciation of human spirituality in all forms

Challenging why corporations and governments are supporting the 'correct' opinions?

Gender Criticism out of love, not hate

and more?

Or what about challenges in fashion and design? Why do Punks need to wear one form of outfit or ideal, did SLC Punk teach us nothing? The old people are wearing what they once wore 40 years ago, and the young people are wearing what they saw on an Instagram Reel or on Pinterest.

While there, I stood out like a sore thumb: everyone there was wearing black, band merch, and/or the 'standard' punk attire. I was also one of the darkest motherfuckers there as a Mex-Am.

Instead of bringing a jacket of my DIY patches or my baseball hat, I decided to do something different. I wore a black long-sleeve undershirt, a nice green shirt with a minimalist sunset scene on the center, jeans, my evil eye necklace, and a side-strap bag with my reading tablet and chargers.

I've always felt passionate about this: Punk should not be about what you wear and how you talk, it's about the ideals you hold and the actions you do.

What's the value of shouting anarchy from the rooftops and tearing down the system, without trying to build something yourself or actually learning where these systems come from?

If you think being punk means wearing the same leather jacket, steel toe boots, spiked hair, then congrats: you're a fucking product. You've been bought, sold, and thrown away.

Modern, Mainstream Punk has become a big progressive circlejerk because Punk is "in." But guess what? If Punk is "in," then it's not punk. That's literally the point. Not to be a contrarian, anarchist, or performative; but to present challenging, complex ideas and nuance against systems that will try their hardest to silence you or, worse, sell you to the worst buyers.

Punk is not about WHAT you're raging against, it's what you're willing and capable of raging FOR. Don't be sold. Don't suppress yourself. Be courageous.

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to the Factory he goes.

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NEW Icon!

Based it off the CTA logo, also integrating my Interluminist star and my color palette for my Chicano heritage.

As much as I love my Snottie PFP (had it for years), I think this one says more about me bc it was made by me :)

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Two of my most recent doodles. I'm so out of practice (thanks college), but I'm planning to get back to my routine:

2 Studies, 2 Scribbles, 2 Showcases, and a Survey on Sunday. Scribbles are just when I doodle whatever comes to my mind, and Showcases are pieces I like sharing with others.

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PROMPT: Write a monologue in a unique character voice (e.g., a jaded detective, a nervous teenager, an alien experiencing Earth)

When was the last time you felt something?

Really, like, deep down. In the heart area. Anything? No, nothing? You know why, right? You're afraid. You're afraid of life, afraid of time, afraid of nature. You're afraid of feeling those emotion things again. You know the ones. The yearning. The craving. The heated need. It's so alluring yet so scary; like a hollowed out lighthouse. You want it, and the opportunity has finally arisen, but you can't. You can't let yourself feel anything. It goes against everything you know; it feels unconquerable.

Jesus, just look at her. She's sitting there, half-naked and bouncing her pupils around the room waiting for you. You've already made it this far! You just need to embrace it. Embrace her. What'd you old man say? "Hold her tight and never let her go." Yeah. Maybe he had some good ideas. Maybe. You need to say something, dammit! The brain does this thinking pretty fast, but you're still wasting valuable time. You need to make a hard decision. Preferably before your jeans combust.

Or... you could leave. No words. No shame. Just get up and don't even say goodbye. Dick move, sure, but it'd be safer. Clean cut this path. I mean, why not? Why shouldn't you? You've done it before, just never this close, or beyond, the threshold. If there even is one with this stuff. Who's to say? You can still opt out.

...But you don't want to. You can't. You'd break her heart. You'd ruin a really damn good night. I mean, just look at all of it over again. That shitty ass movie that was so boring she rested her head on your shoulder. That great meal at Five Guys where she stole half your fries. That breath of relief when her apartment was empty for the night. The kiss. The kisses. God! They lit a fire in you that felt impossible to ignite. The long, lip-locked walk up the stairs and into her dingy, stuffed animal zoo she calls a bedroom. I mean, you've fooled around before. Kisses, hugs, under-shirt stuff. This isn't totally new terrain. But when she moved your hand under the under... it felt like a whole new planet was discovered. Two.

You have to continue. Nay! You need to! If not for yourself, then for her generosity, kindness, and genuine passion for you. I mean, she clearly likes you. Us. Whatever. We can always doubt again and again if it's right or not, but it truly does feel like a culmination of months of growth. I mean, just remember how she looked at you back in November? Holy shit, it was like she hated you. Now she's here with you. Not out of hate, but because she wants you. She wants YOU

Okay. You need to steady yourself. Act calm; you've basically got a loaded weapon in there. Just follow her movements and... y'know... actually talk through it. Don't be a ninja warrior in the sheets; most girls like conversation. I think. Just don't freak her out and please. PLEASE. Don't wuss out. You're afraid you'll fuck it up. What if you... 'insert Rod A into Slot B' all wrongly and stupidly? What if you go too fast? Too slow? Too stupidly? What if you don't rev her motor at all? What if this is the end? The true test of passion and you fail with dying colors? You want her, desperately, but it's hard to just fall into her groove, right? It's like surrender. It feels like a binding of the wrists. But you know it's not. It won't be if you do your best. All anyone can ask for. Thank god these things don't come with umpires.

For the first time in your life, you need to let yourself feel something.

Worse still, you need to feel that something with someone else.

[cranialjam]

WRITING FOR VISUAL MEDIA PRACTICE 1.1

Prompt: "Write a description of a short scene from a TV series or a movie so that another production crew could recreate that same scene. Invent your own way or writing a one-page script."

Scene Source: Hardcore Henry

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[Time: Afternoon]

[Setting: Moscow Bus]

[Henry rushes onto the crowded bus, in a blood-drenched grey tracksuit, and sits next to a few men. A some of the men move away while one watches Henry in disgust.]

[After a few moments, a homeless man covered in layers of jackets and hoodies begins wandering towards Henry.]

HOMELESS MAN [in Russian]: Do you know what's wrong with Mother Russia? Too goddamn hot.

[More people get off the bus and the men across from Henry leave immediately.]

[The homeless man sits across from Henry and offers a drink from his bottle. Henry waves to indicate disinterest.]

HOMELESS MAN [in Russian]: [shrugs] As you wish.

[The homeless man brings out a pair of pliers from his jacket.]

HOMELESS MAN [in Russian]: [mumbling] I used to be in charge of all this shit. And now...

[The homeless man looks directly into Henry’s eyes in sudden lucidity]

HOMELESS MAN [in English]: I’m gonna have to hurt you, Henry. It’s for your own good, mate. [begins pulling on Henry’s left arm] Just give me your arm…

[Henry begins fighting him off before the homeless man slaps Henry in the face. He pulls off his sunglasses to reveal that it’s Jimmy in disguise.]

JIMMY: It’s me! It’s Jimmy! We’ve only got a few moments before they run into us again.

[Jimmy firmly grabs Henry’s left arm, digging the pliers into Henry’s wrist. Blood begins to pour as he pulls out a small chip.]

JIMMY: This little fucker is how they’ve been tracking you [smashes it with his foot]. In a few moments your mechanical parts are going to start shutting down.

JIMMY [cont.]: Your friend Akan’s got an important Russian connection named “Slick Dmitri.” Slick handles all Akan’s cops, guns, real estate, and a lot of other shit.

[Jimmy pulls out a phone from his pocket]

JIMMY [cont.]: This helpful dot on the map is Slick’s place. All you’ll do is… break in there… kill him... open up his ribcage... take out his beating heart [motioning with his right hand a pulsing heart]… and fucking eat it.

[beat]

JIMMY [cont.]: [laughing] I’m kidding! [Henry throws his hands up in annoyance] I’m kidding! You don’t have to fuckin’ eat his heart. Under his heart is his charge pump, bring that to me. Use this [hands Henry the pliers] and use this [points to phone].

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Had a lot of fun with this practice, taught me that I've got a lot to learn with screenwriting lol. I know I should use more traditional scriptwriting format, but I like using transcripts. Once I learn that I NEED to, then I will.

If you wanna try these prompts too, check em out! I use them from. Anthony Friedmann's "Writing for Visual Media" 4th Edition. Good to get the noggin' joggin'.

I'll post the next prompt with my next completed version. I'll give a hint: Playwriting V. Screenwriting.

[cranialjam]

Sorry for the inactivity, been busy applying to jobs and the ilk

Story stuff is still the works, gonna dump some ideas and stuff and air out quite silly ideas

Here's a good song as a consolation, when a song hits for me it's like being resupplied with a new shipment of crack