south central
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“Labeled”
For years I believed I had to become someone else before I could call myself an artist. Maybe the hardest label to let go of is the one we quietly accepted about ourselves. Continue reading
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Rock’a My Baby 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
South Central. Every day we running. Every day — looking to be. Becoming. But what are you becoming? Always remembering — sometimes we are not alone. Let me light this fag once more, tilt my head toward the stars, take a puff — let it swirl into the heavens. This story? It’s about a woman… Continue reading
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The Hate of You 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
To light another fag, to let the swirls of this smoke flow, flow through the streets of South Central. Ground control — the place where many don’t walk through to see. Today’s story? It’s that of a young woman in her twenties — she could be any girl. A woman full of anxiety, full of… Continue reading
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Don’t Feed the Bad with the Bad 🥷 — A Hood Chronicle
Plastic Man meets judgement at a farmers market and learns a harsher truth: feeding bad energy just multiplies it. This Hood Chronicles entry is a choice to rebuild with respect, discipline, and faith. Continue reading
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“Stop Calling Me a Collector”
When owning movies and games became “weird,” something got flattened—media, culture, and the way we feel things. Continue reading
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“Sam, the Armenian Zorro”
Sam runs a liquor store like family—quiet trust, real reverence for his mother, and a moment that made me think about my own mom’s love with hands. Continue reading
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“The Taped-Up Mirror”
A taped-up van mirror feels like my life—patched to survive. But after 60,000 words and daily work, I’m building on purpose, not just coping. Continue reading
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“The Reboot — Zero Input. (Part III)”
📓 Part III — The Reboot Once relevance cleaned itself up, I realized something else: clarity doesn’t come from more thinking — it comes from resetting the system. For a while, I thought relaxing meant entertainment. TV. Scrolling. Noise. But that never really reset anything. It distracted me, sure — but it didn’t restore me.… Continue reading
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“When the Noise Drops, the Path Shows. (Part II)”
Part II of 3: when noise drops, relevance re-sorts itself. Clarity returns—not by adding information, but by removing interference. Continue reading
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“Bathroom Floor Prompts and South Central Drives”
A day-in-the-life entry: bathroom floor prompts, South Central deliveries, and dictating my thoughts into a phone—Plástico Man learning to love writing. Continue reading