A change in the winds

The final day of the month has arrived, and I could not be more pleased about anything. Just when I am thirsting for a fresh start, February pokes

Last Night

its midget head around the corner. When I was growing up in West Bend, Wisconsin, my mother would wake up before me, long before me, and prepare herself for the day. She did this 5 days a week, and in my elder teens I did some calculating. The time my mom spent getting ready in the morning summed up for the year, equated to the month of February. I don’t believe she still dedicated the same amount of time, but let it be known she did.

It is the second month of the year. How many people fucked up January and now it’s a wrap on the rest of the year? What a horrible disposition that would be; I hope no one. The year began for me on the highest of high notes and has since reduced back to the heavy cream of reality; certainly richer than any of its predecessors, but still too thick to swim in. Reality should be too thick to swim though. People are not meant to be at rest.

My feelings toward the world feel like bubbles, surging from my finger tips and toes, up to my brain; I am fizzy. I am confused by the people around me, and this is of oft. Why settle for meek? I feel the kinetic energy of life like never before, and energy cannot be created of destroyed. I do not wish to suck the energy from those around me for my own purposes, but holy shit it feels like that’s what’s happening. The world is huge, but still I am finding that if I want to achieve any sort of greatness, I need to maintain constant vigilance in regards to greed. In order to obtain anything, I find myself pushing other people out. A cup that shall forever overfloweth, spouted from the fountain of Gods; the beautiful latticework that is our civilization.

I have spent a lifetime being sorry, so you can’t expect that any more from me.


Ole’ Bart

Just now I had to make the tough choice: edit yesterday’s article; bring about new content. Lattered that shit. So here I sit, morning time, 10:50

Random Photo

according to my computer, which is two hours fast, in the ballroom of the Green Tortoise Hostel, having just been informed upon last night that I am switching rooms, and in doing so I will be returning to my old stomping grounds. Bartol. A very unique house, in my eyes.

Now the morning has passed, and I have not done too much more than eaten yogurt, and what you see here. I now need to part with my computer and begin the switching of rooms; a process I am all too familiar with due to my time at the Seattle hostel. Yet it never involved moving building, so this is a nice change. I get to live with a close friend of mine, granted I only know him from the Hostel. Still the privacy will be enjoyed greatly. I spent one week in this house prior, and got very little writing done in the building. Let us see how this trip treats me.


Milking Tortoises

Lan Ping still has the vacuum running, and I am set to take over the early morning cleaning shift following next Sunday. 2.5 hours it is, but in total I will work 9.5 hours that day. When I first arrived in SF, currency flowed easily. That well has since dried up, as promised, and I am currently making a valiant effort to generate fund through the hostel. I recently met a fellow named Sam, a real hippie, with absolutely no discretion. He told me to ‘milk the tortoise,’ and I immediately told him I was going to write an article called Milk the Tortoise. Here is that.

The Green Tortoise is a proclamation. I see that now. The best business I have ever worked for, and a small business model I intend to learn volumes from. I am honored, and feel privileged in having gotten to work side by side with the owner. One day, I will write long-windedly about the strive, my time with Gardner. An educator; gentleman of crass oral tradition; generator of monolithic wealth. A real estate mogul. Owner of the Green Tortoise Hostel and Green Tortoise Adventure Travel Co in San Francisco, and part owner of the Green Tortoise Hostel in Seattle. How much has modernized North Beach been effect by the businesses he birthed?
The answer is, probably, a lot.

One gets out what they put into this life. Some folks are blessed; a graced beginning, and some individuals are beckoned to a discerning start. All people are, in relative terms, created equally, but they will not die that way. I have been saying a version of that statement for quite some time, and I still believe it to be true. Should it not be that a phrase with evolution demonstrates conscious effort? Conscious effort being, of course, the gasoline for our skilled and bountiful society. It is very proper of one to have a motive in life, and very specific goals. I am not a man of skills, maturely, but I am giving an advent to this writing. Coinciding with my long pandered infatuation of small business, as of late gravitating around the opening of a hostel (I am of many ideas), my monkey mind has gained sentience; become a cacophony of bittersweet obtainable dreams, and harsh realizations.
“I have a million ideas. They all point to certain death.” – Marvin the Android.

I have full intent to evolve my Heart of Zeus brand even further. I feel not obliged, but singularly happy to talk openly about what I intend to move forward with, (some ideas need kept lock, and key) but more importantly where I still am obliged neutrality by my habitual indecisiveness. I can’t even fucking decide if I should put spaces in the name. HeartOfZeus or Heart of Zeus. I like the simplicity of the second, although up until this point I have thought polar. I am working with an artist, and a close personal friend of mine on the development of my logo. Colors, look, and future prospects of evolution are all coming into play. Imagery is destined to evolve just as the world around it, I figure this to be so, and as such I naturally find myself planning for it. HashtagDL makes imagery pop, and stick like futuristic glue into people’s brains. Together with him, I hope to produce a logo that both relaxes, as much as it excites; the Mona Lisa of blog logos. Quite not mi amigo’s magnum opus, but perhaps a glimpse with a glint of what it will possess.

When Sam told me to milk the Tortoise, I knew no one could be upset about the prospect of it upon the immediate. Besides this, his disposition about the whole matter was ever to peachy. The wonderful thing about capitalism (no matter its bright and shiny future), is that as it promotes contest; eliminable competition has a certain grace to it, in of which one is always vulnerable, and tested continually; assertively herded toward constant vigilance. Life practically follows a formula. Proper and early education lead to a successful and bountiful youth, the maturity of the explorative soul, and finally the settlement upon gratification; all of this preparatory for the inevitable death. Is that poetic? Still, I have not finished the book Outliers; within it describes the construct of success in ways that I have been itching to define. True stories. When one lives their life, they have no choice but to contribute to the story of everyone. What you do is important; or it is not, but that may not be for you to decide. One can only propagate towards the manifestation of greatness.

Unforgivingly, we live in a monetary society. Economic security is a practicality, and it can come in many forms. It is what I speak on when I speak of gratification. One must find a way to support their life, and how one perceives their existence most certainly determines how they procced with their everyday. The world is changing, so what will happen to the people that live with it? That is the question that guides me economically, as well as morally. I want do my part for the planet, but I still must build my walls.
All my minds mycology congealing.

Californian milk is worth double that of Wisconsin milk, but they taste the same. Milking the Tortoise is easy; I had decided I needed cheaper milk and then simply migrated to the better fitting area. First Seattle, and now San Francisco. The building of great future is less precise a science than I thought; perhaps not a science at all. However proper planning and generation of feasible hypotheses are still the best manifestations of constant vigilance I can muster, and so I will continue.

I intent to work for the Tortoise until at least May. If the money is good I would enjoy much so to keep my employment for the determinable future, however I also need leap upon the opportunity to tour while I am young; the mesmerizing prospects of foreign landscapes and seaside’s are palpable; I must go. Confoundedly, my dreams are my lover, and it us who will be journeying. All travels have an end however, at least for me (at this point), so the prospect of returning to San Francisco is more than enticing, it is what I hope to garner. Confoundedly, again, I intend to return with my lover, and at this point begin the conquest; the stockpiling of all my treasure and the lucrative gathering of more. I will buy property, and holy shit if I can convince myself of it fully, I will draft and commission my own building; another dream of mine.

The Tortoise is bursting with milk and I found it like this. I am fed. I am bathed. I arrived knowing some of the intricate complexities of the universe, yet the world has returned to the back of a tortoise shell. The prospect of continued forward motion compels me to stay; in combination with the ingenuity of the place. What I could gain monetarily is just a slice of the pie.


Good Morning ii

I am sitting in the ballroom of the Green Tortoise Hostel, and contrary to my usual timing, it is 18:45 (recently I have been writing in the mornings, I feel). James Brown is playing over the speakers, and about 15 people are scattered about, beginning their Saturday night proper. The Animals came on now, Don’t let me be Misunderstood. I got off work a little over an hour ago, and I am finding myself quite bored. I don’t have any money, but even when I do I don’t find myself out on the town.

Staff Only!

Well that was last night. It is currently 9:34am in Wisconsin. My computer never adapted, so the time is 2 hours fast for my location. After 7 months, I guess it’s just gonna stay that way. Yesterday I posted about my posting to Reddit, and I’ll let you know that they rejected me enquiry. I still hope to sequester free cannabis from local individuals who grow it, and but I am realizing it would be quite fitting if they were also readers of my blog. This is an endeavor I will put my thought into, and hopefully come up with a viable solution. There must be a Bay folk perched ready-already to donate cannabis to the artist. Here I am!

Last night I was rather left with not much to do, albeit Saturday it was. My thumbs led me to Instagram, and I unfollowed over three-hundred people (bots? Some). I apologize if you found this in bad taste, as many of these individuals I know from high school. As it sits however, I am having a very serious go at running a business, an empire if you will, and I had to minimize. If these individuals followed me as I them, then I can still find them on my page. If you are an avid viewer of my Instagram, and you feel I have unfollowed you based on non-interest or inactivity unjustly, Instagram message me and we can resolve to mend the situation. Just recently I had to do the something similar recently, contacting my friend Sarah via Instagram and letting her know I noticed being unfollowed, and very much did not approve of the situation.

Communication is key, and I am a fucking janitor.

For 3 months, I thought raisins were chocolate chips. That’s a lack of communicating with the raisins, however, that is quite obvious. So I had yogurt and raisins for breakfast, with brown sugar.
That’s a Good Morning.


In Motion

Yesterday was Australia day, or Invasion day depending on how you look at it. A large group of people showed up to Score Bar, the bar below the hostel, as there was an event hosted by my friend, and technically an employer of mine. Congratulations on a successful 6th annual Australia Day party, Carrie! I, per the usual me, did not make the event. I wake up early, and I go to sleep early. The nighttime calls to me at portions in my life, and at these times I immerse fully. Vantablack sections of owlfication blot my calendar, and by the time these anomalies fizzle to the surface, my calendar is but a scrap. I binge on the stars, just like every other drug.

Today is a day of slight gloom in San Francisco, but I will spend the day inside maintaining high quality housekeeping standards at the Hostel in which I live, and at which I work. I enjoy my job, and I quite literally get to work from home. Someday I intend to consolidate my home, and work avidly to consider this planet on which I live my one true home; I will live the life of an internet vagabond; a lifestyle of sustainable travel. I have recently defined the term “Internet Vagabond” on urbandictonary.com, and I after several days I am still quite pleased with the definition. I define it in a small way, but as are the amount of internet vagabonds, at least comparative to how many I believe the following generations will bring, so the definition can evolve with the culture.

The internet cannot be burned. No more purging. These words are here to stay. Welcome to the future.

Update: The sun is out in SF! Suns out, Puns out! That’s what I’ve never said prior to that sentence. Now it is forever etched into the lackadaisical youth that is my blog. By lackadaisical I really do mean that sometimes I feel I am being slightly lazy by working harder. In example: I just asked the Bay Area for free weed on Reddit. TBH I wish that shit was a publicity stunt, but it certainly is not. The amount of weed that is smoked here at the Hostel is grand, and we are all young people trying to define our futures as best we can. Good weed can be a life changer. I do mean good weed. Great weed. Fantastic Ganja. Superb Cannabis. Nectar. CBD. We are the GREEN Tortoise. My boss is going to hate this article.
The best Garnder doesn’t even tamper with terpenes, to be honest.

So the life of an internet vagabond might look like a lazy piece of shit to the right person, this shall remain to be seen. Hopefully soon. NSTABP. I have tossed many a thoughtful hour into the vastness getting to this point, even if it appears I have garnered no traction. I am where I want to be.

When 1% of the population possess most everything, asking for a handout is showcasing education and hunger to succeed. Am I wrong to view this as a proper adaptation? I don’t aspire to be camouflage.


Good Morning!

Another Life

It is nearly the end of January, and what a rollercoaster of a month it has been for me. It began with me in Oakland, which had been perpetual for the previous 2 months. I now reside within the 49 square miles of city, and my home is the Green Tortoise Hostel (as you may be getting to know), and I am

Me in Eugene

quite happy to be here. I arrived in the Bay area on Halloween morning. For four months previous I had been trade-working at the Green Tortoise Hostel in Seattle (they have an indoor cannabis/tobacco lounge, only one in the city to my knowledge), which was a very unique place to live, and this was first time I lived outside of my home city. I lived with a woman while in Seattle; someday I will tell you a long, exciting story about a time I fell in love, but today is not for that story, and so I will leave it at that. Fast-forward 4 months from my arrival in Seattle, to my arriving in San Francisco; I am arriving in San Francisco on a Green Tortoise Bus, piloted by my now friend, Paige. Since my arrival in the Bay, I have been introduced to a variety of new stigma, all beautiful in their own regard. I kissed a women I know I could love. I loved a women I didn’t know I could kiss.

If I could put how I’ve been feeling into a glass jar, it would be too hot to touch.

Most positively, I have been writing more, and I feel great about it. If you are reading this, I am very glad you have chosen to imbibe in HeartofZeus. I am excited for life to whisk me away; and be well documented. My daydreams have a pragmatic sandman, and my nightmares are orchestrated by Poe. I do not fear the reaper, and the reaper doesn’t fear me. I am not alone. This is all true, and I am glad I am finding time to express it. The stories I will tell on this site are numerous, and at current I only hope to not diminishing their flame, speaking of them as such. I thank my readers, again.


I lost several friends in 2017, as every year has brought about more casualties. Some souls stray farther from the exosphere than others. It is at this time I would like to say Rest in Peace to John McClment, a dear friend of mine, and very much a part of my online life. His Good Morning posts pulled me through some hard times, and I am not even sure if he was aware. Waking up alone, feeling disgraced by life, John always had his Good Morning status along with a plethora of top quality memes to browse through; my exact humor. I felt comforted by partaking in his day…he helped me feel. The future is certainly a unique and vast landscape. We live on a planet where reality is being subjected to confinement by virtual-reality. John McCliment impacted me through his online presence, for sure more than many of the people I saw daily in the flesh. I went to high school with this man. I took mathematics with this man. I remember when he told me he was joining the Army. I remember when he posted a status he was going to try and stop drinking; those two moments were long apart. The saddest thing you will ever read is the last post of Eat Letters Shit Words. These will not be the last words I spill dramatically over John McCliment; he is an important staple of Menomonee Falls, and of the Facebook community. If it’s fifteen minutes to midnight in Alaska been dark for 3 weeks, and you run into the ghost of John McCliment, you say Good Morning god dammit.

I also lost my Grandmother this year. Peace and Love to her. It will take the rest of my life to find out if anyone has impacted me more than my grandmother.


My First Coyote

I went on a walk this morning, and the photos can be found here, unless of course it was Instagram which brought you here (then I suppose you already knew that). I met an interesting lady, and this was only seconds after an extraordinary experience: seeing my first coyote. I snapped one quick photograph, and when I turned around I found myself within a conversations distance of a women, holding a camera, bolstering a 32oz lens. She gave me a pamphlet, introduced herself, and I learned a little bit about coyotes, specifically in San Francisco (there are about 100 in the city). Janet Kessler is a fellow blog writer, subsequently the owner of coyoteyipps.com, and very knowledgeable on the subject of the coyote. Visit her website for information on Coyote safety, conservation, and much more.