It is Tuesday, April 25, 2017. I am sitting in the LA Fitness lobby waiting for a video to upload.
An hour in a day from kyle kostic on Vimeo.
It has been around a month since I have moved to Los Angeles. A lot of people have asked me how I am doing.
Here is an update:
I miss my family.
This is tough.
Despite that, there is no looking back. I have to set a foundation. My mom is attempting to eventually make her way here. It is hard with a dog. I hope she can make it here soon. It is my hope that we can move together. It is my hope that we can eventually create a comfortable enough space for my daughter to stay for an extended period of time. We can do it together.
If my son wants to come, he needs to step up and become a man.
This is tough.
Despite that, there is no looking back. I have to set a foundation. My mom is attempting to eventually make her way here. It is hard with a dog. I hope she can make it here soon. It is my hope that we can move together. It is my hope that we can eventually create a comfortable enough space for my daughter to stay for an extended period of time. We can do it together.
If my son wants to come, he needs to step up and become a man.
As far as setting roots in LA... this is what I have so far:
1) I spent an entire day getting a new passport
My old passport fell out of my pocket on my way to the DMV. That is just another hurdle I have had to jump through in this thing called life. I just laughed it off and looked up at the sun with a smirk on my face.
2) I spent a whole day getting my California drivers license.
I got it though 😊
3) I have a place to stay... for now
The place I stay at is ok. It is like temporary housing. I sleep with 3 other males in one room. It is extremely humbling, but we are all respectful to each other and we make it work. Rent is due on the first of the month, and I don't exactly have it. I have given away all of my things, and I literally have one suitcase of belongings to my name. I have a few ideas in hopes of raising my rent money, but I am prepared to be homeless if necessary.
4) I have a job
I am a bookseller for Barnes and Noble. I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. While my pay rate is nowhere near what I used to make, my purpose is just as great. Learning the intricacies of a bookstore is pretty cool. They offer book showcases for independent authors. After my next book the DEATH OF a CANCER patient is finished, I will have two books to showcase.
One of the other best perks of my job is that as soon as you walk out of the door, you can see the Pacific Ocean.
Awesome.
One of the other best perks of my job is that as soon as you walk out of the door, you can see the Pacific Ocean.
Awesome.
5) I am writing again
My creative energy is coming back
6) I have my medical marijuana license
Being %100 legal feels really good.
7) I am in the gym
I am strong... my basketball game is looking good too.
I have had a few other achievements that I cannot remember right now.
I have also had some issues.
I got a bicycle, but the front tire got stolen. Then the back tire got stolen. I really want a folding bike, but I don't have any money right now. I take the bus and walk everywhere. All I do is walk all day. I go here and go there in an attempt to lay a foundation for myself. I have long days, and I am tired.
I got a bicycle, but the front tire got stolen. Then the back tire got stolen. I really want a folding bike, but I don't have any money right now. I take the bus and walk everywhere. All I do is walk all day. I go here and go there in an attempt to lay a foundation for myself. I have long days, and I am tired.
I really miss my love. I have not messed with any women here. I have had vulnerable moments, such as asking Vanessa to come see me. She was the only person who checked up on me. I am single. My ex won't talk to me.
Even with all of those things considered, it still wasn't the right thing to do. Vanessa said no anyway, which was great for her.
I would love some companionship. I don't want a girlfriend, other than my love. I still would love to just talk to a woman. I would love to just sit with a woman. I would love to smell a woman. I would love to look into a woman's eyes. I would love to tell a joke, and see a woman crack a smile. I want the opportunity to successfully be the emotional release for a deserving woman after a long day of attempting to save the world. I want to show my gratitude and appreciation in multiple forms. I know what physical form I want that love to manifest into, but right now I am willing to take it however it comes.
I failed my motorcycle permit test six times. It is not meant for me to have a motorcycle, so I am not going to get one. Every time I log on to The Morning Call website I see an article referencing a motorcycle accident. I am listening to the signs.
I gave someone a deposit for a Vespa that I have since forfeited, since I no longer want to buy it.
I have some other challenges, but I want to stay positive.
I want to spend the rest of this post talking about a friend that I made.
I live in Hollywood. The area I live in is kind of the hood of Hollywood, if there was one. There is a homeless man that lives on my street. He has the most infectious eyes. He has the softest looking beard. He looks like a Mexican Papa Smurf.
This man does not speak any English. He can barely walk. There are times when he sits and he physically looks like he is alright.Then there are other times when he is seemingly in pain. I speak a little Spanish to him, and we have been communicating a little better.
There is a diner and a Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles on my block. I have been living where I have been living for about a month, and I go eat at either one of those places daily. On my way home, I always find this man and give him my extra food if I have any.
Every morning I walk by him on my way to the gym. I have not been doing yoga on the beach. Before I go to the gym, I buy Papi a beer. He would always ask me for a "cerveza,' which is the Spanish word for beer.
I know the man is sick, but here is my logic:
A beer will make him happy.
Nothing will make him better.
Well... almost nothing.
I attempted to give him the cure. That is the name of my medicine. Yes it did cure my cancer... but it is literally the cure for everything.
He took one smell, and made this terrible face.
He then proceeded to say... "Caca."
That is the Spanish word for SHIT.
Even though I have been helping him with food, cervezas, and anything else... he has been just as big of a help to me. I love sitting outside and just talking to him for hours. We have spent sunrises and sunsets together. There are times where I look at his beautiful green eyes, and I can tell that every once in a while even through all of his pain and suffering, there are a few special moment that Papi steals a few seconds of joy. I see it. I feel it. It is pure. It is brief, but it is precious.
I love those moments.
There was one specific time that he helped me that I wanted to mention.
I was on the phone with my ex-girlfriend. I had been begging and pleading to get her back. She wouldn't budge. In an upset fit of rage, I ran out of the house.
As soon as I took two steps, who was right in front of me?
Papi.
What did I do? I grabbed him. I hugged him. I put my face into his dirty coat onto his dirty shoulder. I really let go.
My block is extremely vibrant. There were a lot of people outside, and everyone saw it. I did not care.
Here is why I was so emotional:
There I was crying over a situation that I was responsible for that involved me doing a bunch of really bad things to multiple women... and here was this sixty-something year old homeless man walking down the block to his home under the sign of a movie theater.
This man really helped me put things into perspective. My problems paled in comparison to his problems. He carries around empty bottles of Fe-breeze in ripped garbage bags. He has ripped garbage bags that are filled with old newspaper ads.
Everything he owns is literally garbage.
Here is the thing though:
It is his garbage.
He slow rolls that garbage in a rusty shopping cart up and down the street from sun up until sun down with an extreme sense of pride. Protecting that garbage makes his life worth living. It is the only thing that he has to protect. I am getting choked up even writing this. That is a human being everyone. His day is spent walking down the block looking for food through garbage, that will give him enough energy to pridefully protect his garbage.
This is humanity is 2017.
When we see and hear about stories of lives of men life Papi, yes our hearts are immediately hurt. We get mad. We run to the internet and maybe will make a Facebook post about it. It will ruminate in our minds for a few days.
Eventually, those thoughts will be replaced with something else. There is always a new cause or new hashtag to get behind.
Eventually those thoughts will be replaced with the thoughts of self preservation. Eventually you will want to focus more on making sure you aren't in a position like Papi. That will cause most people to spend more time attempting to educate and better themselves because they don't think that they are good enough to help humanity in their current state. Most people are more than adequate to help other, but are institutionalized to believe that they are under-qualified. They thing they need a diploma, to be educated, or to be certified in order to help.
What will eventually happen is most people will subconsciously forget about the cause. Papi will ultimately spend his entire life protecting garbage, and everyone else's life will go on.
Here is where things get tricky: What life will everyone else be going back to? Most people who are considered successful in modern society leave their homes and their loved ones every morning to go to work. Most people in the United States do not particularly love their profession. The commute to and from work is tiring and long for most, especially after an 8+ hour day. On their days off they are playing catch-up in order to get things prepared for the work week.
Even when most Americans are at home, their home life isn't exactly perfect. I have heard that a lot of people who are married and have children hate each other. I don't know, but I have heard that a lot of people actually cheat on their spouses and live double, triple, and quadruple lives.
The relationship between parent and child isn't what it used to be either. Phones screens have become the go between. Both children and their parents have become addicted to their phones. Their aren't many family dinners, or many family game nights.
I say all of that to say this:
The life of most Americans is not much different that the life of Papi, the homeless man in Los Angeles.
Much like Papi... most Americans spend all of their time and energy working to protect a whole bunch of garbage.
Wow.
The change that most people have in their cigarette dishes would mean the world to most people I know. There are people that I know that could live off of the value of one pair of shoes from most of my readers closets. This is real life for a lot of people, and it breaks my motherfucking heart knowing, understanding, and living it. It breaks my heart knowing that I used to have nearly every pair of Jordan's, and I still did not think that it was enough. Meanwhile there where men like Papi who only had one pair of shoes... a pair of shoes that have holes at that.
While yes I have nice things and will continue to have nice things... the important thing is that I do not have many things. I own two pair of shoes. I own like 5 pair of pants, 4 dress shirts, 14 t-shirts, 8 pair of socks, and 8 pair of boxer shorts. I am super efficient. I am ready to be homeless. I have a job and two gym memberships. I only have to monitor one bag. I could sleep on the beach and shower at the gym before work.
Eventually I will meet a friend. Maybe I will become vulnerable and meet a woman? I do not know.
One thing I do know is that I will not go back to my old life. I have the cure to cancer. I am writing again. I have business cards. I have a website. I have one life to live, and I am going to make an effort to change the world for the better.
If I die trying, I was going to die anyway.
On my way home from getting something to eat, I decided that I was going to sit and talk to Papi. What I intended to be a short conversation serendipitously turned into my first documentary. You can now cross documentary producer off of my bucket list. I am going to post the link to my first movie below.
Before I post the video, I want to say this:
I am an artist. This is work. I am giving it away for free, but I would appreciate it if donations were made for my work. This production takes a lot of time. My gofundme link for donations is below...
https://www.gofundme.com/kylekostic
Thank you very much for anything that you can contribute. Everything helps.
Without further ado, my video has finished uploading.
Here is my documentary:
Even with all of those things considered, it still wasn't the right thing to do. Vanessa said no anyway, which was great for her.
I would love some companionship. I don't want a girlfriend, other than my love. I still would love to just talk to a woman. I would love to just sit with a woman. I would love to smell a woman. I would love to look into a woman's eyes. I would love to tell a joke, and see a woman crack a smile. I want the opportunity to successfully be the emotional release for a deserving woman after a long day of attempting to save the world. I want to show my gratitude and appreciation in multiple forms. I know what physical form I want that love to manifest into, but right now I am willing to take it however it comes.
I failed my motorcycle permit test six times. It is not meant for me to have a motorcycle, so I am not going to get one. Every time I log on to The Morning Call website I see an article referencing a motorcycle accident. I am listening to the signs.
I gave someone a deposit for a Vespa that I have since forfeited, since I no longer want to buy it.
I have some other challenges, but I want to stay positive.
I want to spend the rest of this post talking about a friend that I made.
I live in Hollywood. The area I live in is kind of the hood of Hollywood, if there was one. There is a homeless man that lives on my street. He has the most infectious eyes. He has the softest looking beard. He looks like a Mexican Papa Smurf.
This man does not speak any English. He can barely walk. There are times when he sits and he physically looks like he is alright.Then there are other times when he is seemingly in pain. I speak a little Spanish to him, and we have been communicating a little better.
There is a diner and a Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles on my block. I have been living where I have been living for about a month, and I go eat at either one of those places daily. On my way home, I always find this man and give him my extra food if I have any.
Every morning I walk by him on my way to the gym. I have not been doing yoga on the beach. Before I go to the gym, I buy Papi a beer. He would always ask me for a "cerveza,' which is the Spanish word for beer.
I know the man is sick, but here is my logic:
A beer will make him happy.
Nothing will make him better.
Well... almost nothing.
I attempted to give him the cure. That is the name of my medicine. Yes it did cure my cancer... but it is literally the cure for everything.
He took one smell, and made this terrible face.
He then proceeded to say... "Caca."
That is the Spanish word for SHIT.
Even though I have been helping him with food, cervezas, and anything else... he has been just as big of a help to me. I love sitting outside and just talking to him for hours. We have spent sunrises and sunsets together. There are times where I look at his beautiful green eyes, and I can tell that every once in a while even through all of his pain and suffering, there are a few special moment that Papi steals a few seconds of joy. I see it. I feel it. It is pure. It is brief, but it is precious.
I love those moments.
There was one specific time that he helped me that I wanted to mention.
I was on the phone with my ex-girlfriend. I had been begging and pleading to get her back. She wouldn't budge. In an upset fit of rage, I ran out of the house.
As soon as I took two steps, who was right in front of me?
Papi.
What did I do? I grabbed him. I hugged him. I put my face into his dirty coat onto his dirty shoulder. I really let go.
My block is extremely vibrant. There were a lot of people outside, and everyone saw it. I did not care.
Here is why I was so emotional:
There I was crying over a situation that I was responsible for that involved me doing a bunch of really bad things to multiple women... and here was this sixty-something year old homeless man walking down the block to his home under the sign of a movie theater.
This man really helped me put things into perspective. My problems paled in comparison to his problems. He carries around empty bottles of Fe-breeze in ripped garbage bags. He has ripped garbage bags that are filled with old newspaper ads.
Everything he owns is literally garbage.
Here is the thing though:
It is his garbage.
He slow rolls that garbage in a rusty shopping cart up and down the street from sun up until sun down with an extreme sense of pride. Protecting that garbage makes his life worth living. It is the only thing that he has to protect. I am getting choked up even writing this. That is a human being everyone. His day is spent walking down the block looking for food through garbage, that will give him enough energy to pridefully protect his garbage.
This is humanity is 2017.
When we see and hear about stories of lives of men life Papi, yes our hearts are immediately hurt. We get mad. We run to the internet and maybe will make a Facebook post about it. It will ruminate in our minds for a few days.
Eventually, those thoughts will be replaced with something else. There is always a new cause or new hashtag to get behind.
Eventually those thoughts will be replaced with the thoughts of self preservation. Eventually you will want to focus more on making sure you aren't in a position like Papi. That will cause most people to spend more time attempting to educate and better themselves because they don't think that they are good enough to help humanity in their current state. Most people are more than adequate to help other, but are institutionalized to believe that they are under-qualified. They thing they need a diploma, to be educated, or to be certified in order to help.
What will eventually happen is most people will subconsciously forget about the cause. Papi will ultimately spend his entire life protecting garbage, and everyone else's life will go on.
Here is where things get tricky: What life will everyone else be going back to? Most people who are considered successful in modern society leave their homes and their loved ones every morning to go to work. Most people in the United States do not particularly love their profession. The commute to and from work is tiring and long for most, especially after an 8+ hour day. On their days off they are playing catch-up in order to get things prepared for the work week.
Even when most Americans are at home, their home life isn't exactly perfect. I have heard that a lot of people who are married and have children hate each other. I don't know, but I have heard that a lot of people actually cheat on their spouses and live double, triple, and quadruple lives.
The relationship between parent and child isn't what it used to be either. Phones screens have become the go between. Both children and their parents have become addicted to their phones. Their aren't many family dinners, or many family game nights.
I say all of that to say this:
The life of most Americans is not much different that the life of Papi, the homeless man in Los Angeles.
Much like Papi... most Americans spend all of their time and energy working to protect a whole bunch of garbage.
Wow.
The change that most people have in their cigarette dishes would mean the world to most people I know. There are people that I know that could live off of the value of one pair of shoes from most of my readers closets. This is real life for a lot of people, and it breaks my motherfucking heart knowing, understanding, and living it. It breaks my heart knowing that I used to have nearly every pair of Jordan's, and I still did not think that it was enough. Meanwhile there where men like Papi who only had one pair of shoes... a pair of shoes that have holes at that.
While yes I have nice things and will continue to have nice things... the important thing is that I do not have many things. I own two pair of shoes. I own like 5 pair of pants, 4 dress shirts, 14 t-shirts, 8 pair of socks, and 8 pair of boxer shorts. I am super efficient. I am ready to be homeless. I have a job and two gym memberships. I only have to monitor one bag. I could sleep on the beach and shower at the gym before work.
Eventually I will meet a friend. Maybe I will become vulnerable and meet a woman? I do not know.
One thing I do know is that I will not go back to my old life. I have the cure to cancer. I am writing again. I have business cards. I have a website. I have one life to live, and I am going to make an effort to change the world for the better.
If I die trying, I was going to die anyway.
On my way home from getting something to eat, I decided that I was going to sit and talk to Papi. What I intended to be a short conversation serendipitously turned into my first documentary. You can now cross documentary producer off of my bucket list. I am going to post the link to my first movie below.
Before I post the video, I want to say this:
I am an artist. This is work. I am giving it away for free, but I would appreciate it if donations were made for my work. This production takes a lot of time. My gofundme link for donations is below...
https://www.gofundme.com/kylekostic
Thank you very much for anything that you can contribute. Everything helps.
Without further ado, my video has finished uploading.
Here is my documentary:
An hour in a day
by: Kyle Kostic
