, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


Dear Friends of Jano,

Yo On God my nigga, I hate summer rain forecast. How am I supposed to accurately plot out my life if it says it is going to rain, but yet it is as dry as all the old cum in my belly button. Now Summer Rain By Carl Thomas is playing in my head, great because I don’t have enough over emotional ass songs playing in my head.


Remember when I said I did 3 photoshoots last April, well this is the final one. AWWW the simple times of picking a location, asking someone to model for you, then shooting them on a set date. MAN, what a time to be alive.

But Jano what do you mean?

You’ll see in upcoming issues. Holy Fuck you will see.


Back in the cunt bag year of 2016 in August when I was unemployed and foolishly trying to get a stable job as a web designer.

I went to a crash course coding networking event for the now defunct as fuck Iron Yard. It was in Uptown/ Downtown Charlotte in this building called Packard Place.While I was waiting for this event aka waste of my time to start, I stared out the window and saw Romare Bearden Park. I started thinking it would be fun to do a shoot there.

Fast Forward to March 2017.

Two of my friends from college decided to visit me. At some point when they were having a conversation which I could contribute nothing to, so I started scrolling on Instagram.

Jano, that is so rude.

Fuck off, ya’ll do it too.

Anyway, I was scrolling and saw a photo from one of my former slave coworkers from the plantation, IKEA. At some point I decided to ask if she would model for me, she said yea, and I internally while externally went YAAAAS.

I promise ON GOD, ON GOD MY NIGGA, this is the last time that a model search will be this fucking easy for me. I legit just face palmed.


Even though me and her worked together at that cunt customer cotton field for 3 years, I legit didn’t know anything about her or fashion sense. Real shit majority of the time I saw her I talked shit to her. But not hardcore shit that would make someone do a Hannah Baker, but like soft core shit that you could put on a ice cream cone and serve up with a smile.

I just threw up in my mouth a little with that analogy.

We met up so I could browse her closet and we picked an outfit each, picked a date, and caught up about life after. The next day I went to downtown to plan a route for how I wanted this shoot to go. Because ya know its important to storyboard mentally how you want events to go that you are planning. At least in my world.

Alicia Keys so simple is so playing in my head right now.

The day came and I was one of the few who realized that drinking and driving isn’t a good thing and spent the night at a friends house after a bday party. Safety First. Fast Forward through slow service at Midnight Diner, Goodbyes, college buddy group photos, and me going home to showering (because ya know hygiene is key), it was shoot time.

She had never modeled before and I was like girl you’ll be fine.

And she was, Legitly.

She had a lot of excitement and I didn’t regret my choice. She channeled her Americas Next Top Model as she got comfortable being in front of the camera. I almost felt bad for all the soft serve shit I gave her in the cotton field. Almost.

Everything for the next few hours were Kool….. except when my nuts met a guard rail. HOLY FUCK OF FUCKING FUCKED CUNTS, FUCKING JOB HAZARDS. She told me to shhh my yelling because a child was near by. NIGGA FUCK THAT CHILD!!. My tender freshly clean nuts just got more tenderized by this fucking metal guard rail. NIGGA!!!!

Spoiler Alert, if we do a shoot and I get hurt in an extreme way I will yell. No fucks shall be given about the opinions and ear drums of the surrounding people. None, no such fucks shall exist.

Anyway to see the by product of this blissfully planned day go here.

In case ya’ll have been wondering why I keep emphasizing how easy things went is because the next four photoshoots I talk about were arduous as when Vegeta was trying to become a Super Saiyan. Didn’t get that anime reference? Fine, it was like trying to avoid spoilers on the internet when you haven’t seen an episode or movie yet. Actually I rather try to avoid spoilers then deal with the fuckery I dealt with last summer.

Ironically enough despite planning it is happening again this year.

Spoiler Alert, the next few issues will be full of shade, sarcasm and salt. So much Salt that you would think I was gonna put Mortons Salt out of business.

The moment you realize that your Art Journey is similar to a Role Playing Game.

Have I leveled up yet?