I never was jealous of an artist making it. Initially I saw this as a sign that I was a true artist. Now I think the opposite. 
 
A true artist hates to see another artist gain recognition while they remain in the shadows. My complacency with remaining in the...

There had been a time when I was throwing back cups of stale coffee at the diner thinking that I would one day become an artist. I mean I had already thought I was one but I what I was imagining was one day being somebody who got paid a...

Well given that John was an artist by trade and not a chef, I really couldn't sanely feel upset about him not cooking for me. But that's how it was. Maybe it'd be more precise to say that I was let down, having spent the weeks leading up to our...

Against all expectations, we ended up at a diner . Cheryl had drove while John sat in the back of their red Jeep with me smoking hand rolled cigarettes. I was feeling a smooth type of wired from the matcha as Cheryl took us out of the lush greenery of...

After arriving I double checked the time and location. No error. I was at the right place at the right time. But where was John? The front door was left open, which might've been his way of passively greeting me in, but having never been inside I chose to wait...

I headed to John Zabka 's on an empty stomach. One thing nobody left out when describing to me their visit to John's was how skilled at cooking he was. Skilled is the key word here because usually when somebody says another person is a good cook, it means they...