What’s in a Rojo?

A few weeks ago Tin Man sent out a tweet suggesting that a few bloggers should post about their online handle and the story behind it.  I always find these back stories to be interesting because it gives a little insight into the personality of the writer on a more personal level.  You can read about the Recycled Male here.

My twitter handle is Rojo Escobarrio.  The surname is a bit of a joke that started after my friend Gordo dubbed me Rojo.  I’m not a ginger by any sort of the meaning.  When I grow my hair long it does become an unmistakable color of the soulless, red.  But, more importantly, I sport a red beard.  The surname is a play off of the things I create.  See, I moved to this town and I knew two people.  Therefore I made friends through my workplace and my local neighbors.  There were a number of concoctions and baked goods that contained psychotropic highs that were passed around, for free, because I’m a giver.  It was joked about that I was the poor man’s cartel, thus Escobarrio was created.  However at the time, I was HUGE, and not in a good way.  I looked like a balloon that was about to pop.  I was around 285 pounds and just disgustingly overweight.  Do I blame anyone?  Yes, I fucking do.  I blame zoloft and myself.  Zoloft changed my metabolism to a snails pace, and I picked up and kept taking the drug for days on end.  So we’re both guilty.

Which brings me to my next point.  According to a number of quacks, I am Bi Polar II, with psychosis.  I’m not crazy by any means.  If anything, I’ve had the most bitter taste of life and react accordingly.  Many people live desperate and isolated lives, and that does not make them special, it gives them purpose.  At any rate, the increased amount of psychotropic drugs I was taking, and I took a fucking buffet of them, trying this and trying that, only aided the mental challenges I was trying to overcome.

Combine all of that with a series of long term relationships where I started out as the dominant male, then moved into the relationship pleaser.  I’m sure a number of men can emphasize with that part of my journey.  I was reflecting on this joyous yet tumultuous relationship I had with a beautiful Grecian female, and I can clearly see the error of my ways.  This was also, about 4 years before I found the sphere.  In the beginning, I was confident, dominant, and assertive.  I got what I wanted when I wanted it.  I would give her orgasms with out penetration.  She would support me even though I was in and out of jail.  I was unemployed, she paid for everything.  But somehow, my mentality changed from, this is what I want, to, hopefully this will work for her.

See what she wanted was the dominant side of me.  She wanted me to take control and not accept her petty crap.  Instead, I succumbed to the shitty romcom style of dealing with a girl and she dumped me.  The reason I mention this is because there’s a reason.  Everyday I am reborn.  Everyday I have a chance to change my life, every moment, every second.

I started this blog to relate my experiences after consuming much of the sphere.  Before I decided not to be a fatass.  I’m not there yet by any means, but my confidence has risen much higher than my thin ass high school kid ego could comprehend.

Thus, as you view this page, you view a Rorschach like drawing of the mythical Phoenix rising.  Go look at the Pheonix wiki page, it is commonly associated with the sun.  I hate the sun because I’m a pale motherfucker, but at the same time, I love the shit out of my sun, because it gives me growth.  It’s also responsible for our gravitational reality, among many other things.

In this brilliant speculative fiction novel I read by John Ringo,  He speaks of reality in terms of gravitational force.  Trying to describe his muse, he says to a fellow crew member, “Picture this in two dimensional fashion.” *word to readers, this is not two dimensional, as space is not, so I will expound.*   This is not verbatim from the book.  If you want to know what book it is, hit me up on twitter or follow me.  Basically what is stated in the text goes, “picture a bowling ball being dropped on a big trampoline.  The trampoline is the universe.  The bowling ball is the sun.  Now instead of just dropping that bowling ball, apply revolutions, spin it.  What happens when it reaches the trampolines surface?  Friction.  It draws all aspects of that trampoline around it, twisting them into it’s reality.”  Creating friction and moving forward draws all surroundings into it’s reality.

My convergence, into the better me, the more determined me, the fucking amazing me, is characterized by the Phoenix.  From the ashes of a discordant past, from the ashes of a multitude of poor decisions,  I am rising every fucking day.

I’m learning to deal with my mental illness with safe holistic methods instead of feeding the heartless behemoth that is the pharmaceutical industry.  I’m dealing with my weight gain in a rational and nominal fashion.  I am finally able to hear my own voice in my head and know what I want.

That is why I am Rojo, On Thin Ice.  In it to win it, dying by the minute.


My Love Knows No Bounds

After a nice chat with Tyler from Tylervin.com, I was reminded of a two year experiment I willingly participated in.  This was a foray into polyamory.


I had just gotten out of a two year relationship with the first girl I can say I truly loved.  I was heartbroken and upset.  Living in a small town, the gene pool was pretty incestuous, as in, many cats were helmet buddies by their mid twenties.  I got in touch with a girl, who I knew would be a sure shot.  My pad at the time, was a panty dropping studio on the top of a garage, on top of a mountain, overlooking the valley where I lived.  It also had a big ass porch.  It was great, isolated, and comfortable.  She agreed to come up to “hang out.”  The night progressed swimmingly, we had tea, then some jagermeister and goat cheese.  It ended in drunken licentious fornication.  Cool, I now had a fuck buddy and could take my mind off my broken heart.

Fast forward a few months I had checked myself into a 28 day rehab program and was waiting on turning myself in for a 150 day stint at the County clink.  I ran into homegirl a day or two out of rehab, and we decided to stay clean together.  We ended up being monogamous together after a few months and before my turn in date.  I was released in the day to go to work, and spent my nights in jail.  She’d pick me up and drop me off.  She also said she had thing for me being in a jumpsuit.  I don’t know, chicks are strange sometimes.  Even though we didn’t see other people, we’d often get propositioned by other females to have threesomes, or just let them watch us fuck.   She would tell me I could fool around with these chicks if I wanted, but being the die hard serial monogamist that I was, it just wasn’t in the cards.  But it was a nice change from my previous relationship, where my then gf, would berate me for even looking at other women.

I’m not sure exactly when, but the current gal brought up polyamory.  I was interested, as our relationship wasn’t exactly traditional.  The reasons of which, I am going to leave out because they’re not important.  This is where my journey began.

Scarcity and Abundance

All this occurred long before I was introduced to the sphere.  However, looking back, it was my first introduction to one of the pillars of this mentality.  I had to do my research into this style of relationship, so I read books, participated in forums and asked a lot of questions.  It also required a ton of soul searching.  What really struck a tone with me was the argument the poly community raised about love.  They claimed that monogamy was entrenched in the believe that love is a finite resource, a scarcity complex if you will.  The polys believe in abundance, meaning, that one can be in love with multiple partners without taking away from any of the relationships.  That made a lot of sense to me, because after all, I loved my family, my dog, and a few friends, why couldn’t I love more women and be intimately involved?

That was probably the easiest concept to digest, and one I still maintain to this day.  Though I haven’t been involved in a committed relationship for a few years, and most girls don’t try to push the commitment aspect because I’m very clear from the beginning.


This was the hardest thing for me to work through.  I had been taught to be jealous by my previous girl, through basically, osmosis.  Thus, I had to walk through miles and miles of uncomfortable emotion on a daily basis in order to get comfortable with this new relationship style.  Now, surely not all will agree with me, but one way I was able to rationalize a “just live in the moment” kind of mentality was to tell myself that “jealousy is want for something I don’t own.”  It also required a large amount of trust and communication.

We weren’t allowed to just go out and fuck other people.  The premise of opening our relationship was to cultivate meaningful, intimate relationships with like minded people, that as individuals, we found attractive.  Thus, there were many late night talks about feelings and things we were struggling with.  There were also rules.  The breakage of one of those rules was why I ended that relationship but I feel that it’s good to report on this, because it’s a little different from having a harem.


There were many plus sides to putting myself through those struggles to overcome emotion.  I no longer have a jealous bone in my body.  If a girl wants to walk, she can go right ahead.  If she wants to find someone who will commit and relationship up, then she’s free to do so, and I wish her the best.  This is also an effect of abundance, to the point that I do not fear being alone and never meeting another girl.  It’s just not in the cards.

One major plus side of doing this with someone I was already in love with, is we achieved a level of intimacy and trust that I have not yet been able to recreate.  I know this girl down to the fibers of her soul, and she had a pretty good look into mine as well.  It was trying at times, and at others, it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve experienced.  I did feel a little strange explaining it to people, due to the social stigma of my girl sleeping with another guy.  It didn’t seem to bother folks that I was sleeping with other girls, but they looked at her “infidelity” as a red flag, and a weakness of my own.

To each their own.  It’s not a style that is for everyone, but as a hopeless romantic, and one who would prefer a tight relationship with someone I truly enjoy, it met many of the needs I have, and more.  If you have any questions, feel free to drop them in the comment box or hit me up on Twitter.

Rojos Cracker Ass Carnitas

I feel strongly about upholding culinary traditions.  So much gets diluted in our over homogenized society, that respect for prior generations seems to go by the way side.  Fortunately, I have access to a treasure trove of old family recipes passed down by my Grandparents, and Great Grandparents.  This recipe here is not one of those, and it  is not traditional either.

To make carnitas the old Mexico way, you would take a large piece of pork and melt an almost equal amount lard over it.  After cooking the pork low and slow so that all the binding tissues in the pork melt, the heat would get cranked up.  This would make the pork crispy.  I’m not particularly keen on cooking anything in 2 lbs of melted lard, but I love carnitas.  Thus this is an alternative recipe that will provide the same flavor, just without the lard.  It’s Texas style as I gleaned the recipe of my boy Gordo who has roots in the Tejanos culture.

Gordo cooks his pork in a bottle of cola and orange juice, but I omit the cola and stick solely to the acidity in the orange and limes.

This is what you need:

  • 1 crockpot / slow cooker, or a dutch oven.
  • 1 casserole dish or baking sheet.
  • 3 1/2 – 4 pound boneless pork shoulder
  • Juice of two oranges or approximately 3/4 cup orange juice
  • juice of two limes
  • 1 cup water
  • 1 tbps. salt or more to taste
  • 2 tbps. ground cumin
  • 1 tbps. chili powder
  • 6-7 cloves of garlic, crushed or 1-2 tbsp. garlic powder
  • 1 bay leaf

Here’s how we do it:

If you’re using a dutch oven, preheat your oven to 300° F and chop your should down to 2-4 inch chunks so they fit in your pot.  Place a bay leaf at the bottom of your pot, then place your roast on top.  Combine your spices and sprinkle them on your roast.  Add your garlic, orange juice, and lime juice.  Now it’s time to get that pork nice and tender.  We’re going to go low and slow, allowing the acidity from the citrus juice to break down the collagen in the roast.  The end goal of this phase is to have a roast that’s easily falls apart with a fork.  If you’re using a dutch oven, your cook time is approximately 2 hours.  In the crock pot, cook times are approximately 4-5 hours on high, or 6-8 on low.   Make sure to check your roast so you don’t over cook it.

Once your roast is sufficiently tender, take the meat and place it on a baking sheet or casserole dish.  Separate the meat using your hands or a fork.  Take the remaining cooking liquid and pour it over your shredded roast.  Now you’re going to place the meat either under the broiler, or in a hot oven around 400°F, until the liquid is gone.  This shouldn’t take more than 10 minutes.  Be sure to check the pan around the 5 minute mark, as you don’t want to dry out your roast.  You’re abode should smell amazing by now and all you have left to do is grub down.

The rest is up to you.  This is easily enjoyed in tacos, burritos, quesadillas, or with some scrambled eggs.  Garnish with a little cilantro, some avocado, and your favorite salsa or hot sauce.  As an aside, this is not a definitive recipe by any means, it’s just one that is simple and works for me.  Some cat’s like to throw some cinnamon in with the roast while cooking.  Others will throw in a bottle of coke, or a can of beer.  You’re mileage may vary.  Do any readers have their own recipe or additions?  I’d love to hear them.

Staring at the Sun.


It’s so clear to few, yet enigmatic to so many.

The plethora of frustrated males

trudging blindly through life,

knowing only what they have been taught

by their parents, by their schools

by movies, by television.

The ones they are so enchanted by,

the ones they fear to speak to

face to face,

are just as lost .

They do a dance of mockery and supplication.

Both obsessed with false idol worship.

One side fully aware of their perturbation,

the other side  in full denial,

for it won’t catch up to them until it’s too late.

If you listen closely,

you can hear it in the songs they love,

that are eaten up, like so much fast food.

Deep down, them gals just want a strong lover

who will take them,

protect them,

lead them.

But what those dudes don’t see,

is exactly that.

Because, all their lives they’ve been told

to set their visceral desires

on the shelf, like an old toy forgotten.

To keep their mouths shut.

The problem being, their eyes are shut

and their brain is offline,

blind to the future.

See the blame can be placed so easily.

I don’t shirk my path, it is the one I have walked.

But the difference is,

instead of continuing,

staring at the sun,

the few that can see,

have opened both their eyes, ears,

and hopefully their hearts.

What some people on this side of the spectrum

are screaming,

like an 80’s hardcore prophet,

HR of Bad Brains,

Keith Morris and Henry Rollins of Black Flag,

Kevin of 7-Seconds,



All the rest is noise.

This poem was inspired by many things, including this little tidbit, written in 2002.

From a long time ago

From a long time ago