Friday, April 24, 2009


I plant one hand over the middle of my chest,
exactly nine centimeters off center.
My other hand has formed a fist, anchored from my shoulder.
There is a breeze and my neck is cooled.
The rest of my body hot, sticky, wet.
I step to the edge.
I want to step back.
I look forward.
I want to look back.

The breeze stops.
The white noise of the world, gone.
The clouds sit down.

The magnet that is, holds me.
I ask to be let down, but Magnet!
Don't let me down.
Down where the drowned walk and talk.
I want to be here, true,
where the view is new.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

I'm too young to die.

(there's really no need to read any further, I only posted this so I can continue to breathe...When I come out of all this, please say I will come out of all this, I will write stories of inspiration and hope, love and heroes... I hope those interested will bare with me.)

Today is April the 22nd and I want nothing more than to destroy this pain. I want out when the only way to go is in. I want to destroy anything already dead. I want to chop wood. I want to do this alone. Sad and strong as I can be. I want to hold an axe bare in my hands and destroy anything that is already dead. Momentarily, I want to destroy everything I see. I want to tear this house down to the ground, pound it into the earth, bury it to the core of this planet with my fists. I want to remove my brain and give it to the wolves, put my heart in its place. I am so fucked up. I want nothing more than to destroy this pain. I want out when the only way to go is in. Deeper and deeper, alone. I know I've had harder days than today, but I can only remember one, 4 years ago. I cried this afternoon in a way that scared me. Sounds that from my experience you only hear upon death. I'm too young to die. I want to tell my story. For the love of fucking fuck, this can't be how I die. I'm too young to die. My hands are the only thing on me that look old, and that's because they have aged prematurely due to all the world changing I've done. Let go of me you crazy fuck. I will claw your fucking eyes out before I let you put me down in that grave. Just fucking let go. I will do this on my own. Alone. I will be that much more amazing when it's done. I want to feel someone against me right now, to take away all of this pain, to give my heart to to distract me from all this pain, I could choose that route in a second, but the reward will come by doing this alone. I've been there for everyone else the past 20 years, but never have I been here for me. The fear of all of this god... the fear. Believing I only need me. Making decisions that are tearing my guts out because they are so hard and difficult, that is how I know they are so right, that is how I will create something better. A new life with a new me. Medicating myself with someone else? No, I am the only medicine I need.

(3 hours later)
Yesterday I started a new short story. It's about a man who has lost his mind, so he transplants his heart to take the place of his brain. I think it is my greatest piece of writing, ever. I bet if I still had a girlfriend I wouldn't have written my greatest piece of writing, ever. Maybe I should start to rant about things of this sort instead? Yeah, I better keep some of my dirty laundry hidden, and instead rant about (((WHY THE F DOES EVERYONE HAVE A DOG?)))...oh crap. There go 3 of my 7 readers right there. Sorry, but "pets are not the answer." ~bumper sticker

Monday, April 20, 2009

Fair Warning

The fuse has been lit to my dynamite heart, and a brilliant new universe of planets and stars are about to be known.

I have smashed myself into oblivion to reach this point. Obliterating every demon in this dark forest, and mauling my way through anything that threatens my true heart.

I know no trail.
I have no compass.
There is no light.
Only my belief, in me.

Blazing through a boy turned outside in, and back out a man, this fuse races toward a dynamite heart.

So let this be fair warning; it is set right, and fit to blow!

Sunday, April 19, 2009

This is a true story

(I wrote this short story in 2007. I realize it might be confusing to most readers, but I don't care, I still think it's pretty good. This was my first real attempt at writing. Ever.)

This is a true story.

It is Saturday, 6:04 A.M. I buy an old lady chandelier at a yard sale in Borough Park, disassemble two emerald green crystals from the tacky tentacles and I put them in my pocket for later.

I eat one Hitori Honzo sword for breakfast.

From there I place two Fender half stacks face down on the taut sacred Kentucky Fescue, then, in the middle of the hot bright American sky, at full volume, I lower the needle with calculated precision. This provokes an undirected static that flares like a magnified fuse to a car bomb. A crow yells at me. My heart grows into my neck. The symphony approaching on an inbound convertible bullet train. Nothing can stop this now. BOOM-t't-TAP-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-TAP-BOOM not to be confused with ding-ding-ding-d'd-ding-ding. Freddie! Trouncing those gay words out from the deepest place in his soul. Singing the song he wrote for all those in need of change, for all those who want to break free. Shirtless and alive in all his glory. I hold out my fist above my head in awe for all times I felt happiness in my life because of him. And in my daydream of his momentary resurrection Freddie returns my admiration, gaping at my self-worth with undisputed respect he compliments my mustache and chest hair.

I research Rob Brezsny’s photo online, and as we pass outside of the Hyperion Trader Joe’s with a smile gracing my mug ear to ear I Hi-Fucking-Five him, my head rhythmically bopping twice the beat of my feet, “FUCKIN’ AY MAN!THWAPP!Fucking ay!

I see right through the cryptic disguise of Lex Luthor as he ice skates past the Transamerica building on Merchant Street. I follow him to Leidesdorff and fourth, and while waiting for the light to change my plan untangles before me. He steps in front of my Royal Purple Rav 4 and I flippantly tap the juice to knock him off his feet. In the mayhem of my defense while helping him up I reach into my pocket and swap the emerald green chandelier crystals for crude, unrefined, kryptonite, a feat that shall forever remain synonymous with what God did in 7 days, I get back in the Royal Purple Rav 4, drive straight to the water and mail that kryptonite so far off into the San Francisco bay I momentarily think it will hit Berkley. I am again, on my way.

I shelve the Rav 4 outside a bodega near Guerro and Mission, for obvious safety reasons, and continue on foot. 17 blocks East, 3 blocks South, cut through the park, I’m there. McSweeney’s haphazardly brands a sign above the door using electrical tape stretched three rows wide. I strike the entrance with a chipper two-handed paradiddle that repeats its catchy rhythm down the hall. No answer. I go at it again. Nothing. I pull my wallet to excavate for a photocopy of pages 260-261 from A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers, it’s there, I write in the margins: “Dear Dave, the Pulitzer was yours, man. You were robbed! The good news is- even though you’re a really cool guy who plays frisbee I’m going to keep on making fun of frisbee players. Your Friend, J.G.”, ..I hear it again, J.G., and again, although I try to un-hear it this time, the phrase twisting in my mind, you’re J.G., then again, you’re J.G., again, again, for the next twelve hours, again, as I head South…you’re J.G., you’re J.G., you’re J.G.,. And even with all the limitless capability my imagination contrives from all the love and inspiration that has ever entered my life, I cannot stop the searing rhythmic pain in my chest, and before I know it, it consumes every atom in my being. Everywhere is pounding. All of me is pounding. Like a fish that has been put to the pavement by an innocent curious boy. The memories come flooding back. All those who floated in my wake hoping for a fun skip across the water, instead being overturned by a tidal wave, left to painstakingly abandon everything they love, including themselves, and swim for their lives back to shore. Leaving me and everything else to either drift away or sink. I duck into an alley off Sunset, my crinkled face is sopping, slimy and wet. I am confused by how bright it is in the middle of the night. I lose my feet below me and accept the pain. I lay there all night. Dying from the worst torment any human has ever endured. Facing the biggest mistake I have ever made. Mistreating and losing the most precious person I have ever known. Me.

[now this is the part where it gets good.]
Flying above with his keen ability to spot human danger and fear is Superman. He detects my sense of urgency, seeing me defeated, hopeless and dying in pure broken sadness, and he recalls a time when someone unbeknownst to him saved his own life. He directly descends to my presence. He cantilevers both arms, one beneath my back and the other behind my knees, then, ever so gracefully, he lifts me to my feet. I AGAIN STAND PERPENDICULAR TO THE WORLD. He tells me, "We are brothers. Born from the same universe, and from extraordinary people come extraordinary lives and I for one believe YOU to be extraordinary.” A soft breeze against my warm, clammy face, and he is gone. I am momentarily left feeling only, one, thing. Hope. .....And once again, I am on my way.

I spend the next 10 days in solitary deliberation with the inner most core of my soul before I make the decision. I courageously rip my vulnerable heart from my chest, and place it before me. It is hands down five times the expected size. Bigger than my entire head. Ripped and bruised everywhere. Thick, purple, red and black hues, shredded, oozing all over with so much dense beauty.Weathered like a distant buoy shielded in algae and barnacles. It's fucking beautiful. My separate critical being holds it for inspection. The warm heavy weight is cascading between my fingers. I gasp and return it before me. I am ready. I regurgitate the Hotori Honzo sword from breakfast, and with both of my unwavering hands I take hold of the fearless Japanese steel. I raise the heavy weapon as high as my powerful limbs can reach, and I come down the instant I hit my peak, with every single last ounce of force that has ever become J.G. ...And my heart?......My most vital, precious organ, vulnerable in times even to me,.... withstands a deathblow so powerful that my brain is left momentarily black. All I hear is an audible silence, interrupted only by the thunderous pounding muscular rhythm that shatters the ground beneath my feet. I tremble in wholehearted victory. Like anyone who as ever dared face their inner most fears and won. I explode into tears and pick up my extraordinary life. I tear off my bloody right sleeve and use it to strap my ravishing corazon to my arm for all the world to see. For the first time in my life I know without a glimpse of doubt I will never deceive myself again. I am the epitome of love, I am the epitome of hope, I am the epitome of courage, I am the epitome of honesty, I am the epitome of inspiration, and I am relentless in my pursuit of happiness, and nothing, not my past, not my future, not my insecurities, not my mind, not my job, not my girlfriend, not my ex-girlfriend, not family, not my friends, not my enemies, not my anything will ever keep me from that again.

The easy part for me has always been getting what I want.The hard part has been knowing what that is. I am reminded of priceless piece of advice I once received from the most amazing person I have ever known, “It only matters what you do from here.” Thank you. Now just watch me!

So what else do you want to know “about me”? I could bore you with stuff like I’m smart, I’m funny, I am a high-dive extraordinaire who created the ‘watermelon’…but I think it is much more intriguing to cut to the chase and vomit all over everything.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Me vs Me

My insides are the battleground of every war ever waged, every fight ever fought, every duel that ever was, all at once. Villains and heroes alike, together and alone they fight. Cowboys and Indians, gunfighters, and there are no sides, no rules, no allies, and like every difficult change in my life, it is me vs me.

I am so lucky to feel life the way I do. This pain that pummels me from every side, never letting up, is something to stand tall for. I embrace it with tears of understanding and compassion. It is proof that I gave my whole heart to someone I love, unconditionally, and no matter how great the fear of doing that was, I did it anyway, the fear of this very feeling, of pure broken sadness and excruciating pain, I did it anyway, and it was worth every fucking moment. I will do this forever, because I have never known anything greater than love, and, for the first time in my life, this love is starting with me.

Now it is Saturday evening, and I am sitting on my front porch, drinking a can of my favorite beer, Simpler Times, eating beef jerky, finishing my new book, writing a new blog, watching all the love in this world pass by my house, knowing I already have all the love I need, I'm watching this beautiful sky turn down, and I’m sitting here alone, forgetting about all that I am sad about, and I am opening my arms back up to the world, and when the sadness comes back, which for now it will, I will open my arms back up to me.

It starts like this.

It starts like this. CHAPTER 14 ~ The Boner Years Cont'd, page 231, the last sentence on the page and also the last sentence in the chapter...

And that was that, I lost my virginity at age 14 to a girl I would never speak to again, who I would dodge for the next four and a half years, whose name I would never tell anyone, ever, a girl who thought she was pregnant moments after we both had sex for our first time, because her sister told her that if you bleed after sex you are pregnant, and I would hear her say this to her best friend from the bathroom at my cousin's house, moments after we both had sex for our first time, while I played Nintendo, to help take my mind off the confusing discovery that had just occurred, or maybe I just wanted to play Nintendo, "My sister told me if you bleed after sex you are pregnant", and after hearing this I jumped on my bike, raced home, not realizing she probably wasn't pregnant for the obvious reason that I never had an orgasm, literally, not even completely sure of what an orgasm was, and I pedaled like mad up Alta hill, thinking of the boy I was going to raise, because of course it would be a boy, a great BMXer like me, with inflated curly hair, and no shirt, ever, only shorts, I thought of that boy and..., and oh my fucking god the disappointment from my family, the Greek community torn apart, the Francis' anchored in the middle of the sea, the taking away of my phone, at the very least call-waiting and three-way. be continued in the short story THE WAY WE DID it, by JG Francis

CHAPTER 15 ................. Fireworks and Heroes

Friday, April 17, 2009


My socks are exhausted lovers on the floor. One draped on top the other, both deep asleep, happy to be together. I want to be a dirty sock. I want to be on the floor.

Monday, April 13, 2009


I am tired. I am sad. I am broken. But I am also true of heart.

These baby steps are growing further and further apart, and I foresee in my new future the earth bounding strides I have so patiently waited for.

I have once again, changed.

Been alive long enough to know I will never be defeated. I have no regrets. I will never give up. I will always say never. And I will never stop loving this world.

Because this world will never stop loving.