Writing is a Habit



I haven’t written anything this whole month.

It’s a funny thing about habits. You get in a routine, and everything goes on auto pilot.

Like in Dallas it was

-4:30am Gym

-6:00am breakfast

-6:30am writing

-7:00am shower

-7:30am leave for work

Real simple. Every Monday, Weds, Thursday.

But now in Chicago, my gym schedule in the evening because the entire city has an allergy to early morning workouts.

So my writing suffers.

….Or so that’s the excuse I tell myself.

In reality, I just need to find a regular time slot.

15 minutes or so everyday is all I need.

It’s how I wrote my first shitty draft of my first shitty Novel back in July.

It took me a only month and a half.

Shooting for only 3 paragraphs a day.


It’s 90-some hand written pages filled with spelling mistakes, crossed out words, coffee stains.

It can easily be longer with some polishing.

But it’s going to take going to take some work,

and in order to make that happen, I’m going to need to find sometime.

To edit only three paragraphs.


Regardless of rain, snow, sleet.

The funny thing is when I put it that way,

it really doesn’t seem so hard.


This post was inspired by the book “Atomic Habits”.

Mr. Clear is a very smart man, highly recommended.

Out Assed in Houston

I’ve been trying to write but words are sticking on my fingers like the tiny pieces of shit soldered to the end of a dogs ass. So instead here is a picture post.

I jumped on a plane a few weeks ago and hung out in Houston for basically no reason other than I wasn’t to escape Chi-town.

I got to say, I’m not a huge Texas fan after living in Dallas, but Houston seemed a lot more chill.







I got to say, I’m not a huge Texas fan after living in Dallas, but Houston seemed to be more laid back.

I also found out everyone in Houston has ass. I mean don’t get me wrong, I do my squats, but y’all are on some other level. Like I didn’t know this was possible but I was definitely “Out Assed” by everyone. I feel like it’s a prerequisite to living there.

Don’t worry Houston, I’ll be changing up my workout the next time.


Houston ass – 1

Darby – 0

Fuck Copy

You read an ad: “Make $700 dollars tomorrow!”

You see an Internet post “How to get her tomorrow with this one weird trick…”

You see the billboard, “No money down drive home in a new car today!!”

You get a gym flyer, “Get six pack abs in one week!”

I see all this and ask myself,

Why in such a fucking hurry?

I mean, I walk fast, yet I don’t feel like I need to rush.

Time is finite, but rewards are only earned in the journey.

You don’t have enough time to do everything, so fucking choose.

And spend every last




And spec of energy

Doing what you love.

It’s the only good fight out there

Missed Connections: Punk on the ‘L’


Dear Girl with the Pink hair on the ‘L’,

Hi. I’ve seen you on the train a few times before. I know this because we pasted sexy glances at each other and I got a Deja Vu type experience. The kind where everything gets foggy like your high as fuck, or dreaming, yet know you’re still awake because the crazy guy next to you is ranting about black Nike socks and you know that wasn’t in the fantasy.

Anyways, you could have guessed it but I think you’re fucking sexy. I had the perfect way to start a conversation and felt like luck was on my side when you got off at the same stop as me. You had on small black converse with skulls and no socks. I know this because I find it really strange that girls don’t wear socks in the Chicago winter. I was going to ask your thoughts on this, but you just fucking J walked across the street like a crazy bitch.

A part of me thought the whole Avril Lavigne look was just a part of the quarter life crisis bullshit that most of our generation is going through because we’ve never had to struggle. But oh no, no you. You;’re the real deal. Which is “#amazeballs” as the kids would say, because despite my douche hair cut and grey designer overcoat deep down I’m a total social outcast. Even though I come from a trailer park, I can chameleon with the rich but I really don’t like playing the game. A part of me seems to be disappointed when this happens.

See I feels like I get the struggle your in. You want to rebel, but at the same time you do it in a safe fashionable way. I mean, most of the punks I know don’t put faint matching pink eyeliner on. It just isn’t the DIY way. You’re like that fat kid at camp how wants to get in the pool but only dips his toes in, which is cool.

But unfortunately, you know the ending to this Sid and Nancy story. I was a giant pussy and didn’t chase you down the dark alley you cut across. I’m a dick, I know. Will you ever forgive me for being so old fashioned?


-Darby Cashed


PS. Hopefully we ride the train together so I can awkwardly gawk at the nipple ring piercing through your bad Brains t-shirt in which will enviably find the courage for you to officially call me creepy to my face.

I’m really looking forward to it.

I truly can’t wait.

Give Me a Tuesday


I’ve never been one for the Holidays.

Especially New Years, Halloween, and St. Paddy’s.

Anytime the normal crowd needs an excuse to get drunk is a night I want to stay in.

I’ve never felt like I’ve needed permission to be me.

Plus, all those days consist of

too many people,

making too many plans.

So much worrying, they forget about the whole reason they’re out.

Not for me.


Just give me a Tuesday.

No Expectations

No plans

No possibility of a let down.

Now that sounds like the perfect opportunity.

Who Doesn’t love a Dick Pic?


I’ve given up internet dating. It was my plan back in October. A new year resolution if you will. But something funny happened. I met a girl I actually like from the internet a few days before new years.

Since then, I’ve watched less porn. Injected more alcohol. And write more.

The worst part about the writing is that I have nothing to say.


I’m just trying to stay busy, because despite my best efforts, this girl has occupied a space in my brain for the past 2 weeks, and I honestly don’t have a clue why.

Sure she’s cute, smart, and puts a capital ‘D’ in Donk. But those aren’t why.

It’s some x-factor I can’t quite put my finger on.

On one hand it’s fucking awful.

I type.

I take pictures.

I go to the Gym.

I shamelessly flirt with other girls.

Yet, she’s still in hovering in the same space up there.

But on the other hand,

after all the dates, hangouts, & hook ups over the years,

It’s really nice to know,

that I can still feel this way.


……The only thing left to do now,

is ruin it by sending a picture of my dick.