Artists, writers, and creatives all come from somewhere. Those who inspire us offer a window into their worlds and a mirror to our own.

This is a collection of real-life stories.

“& the Present is a Gift”- William

I remember a particular conversation we had about spirituality. Will said he was a highly empathic individual on a spiritual journey to heal others. When we first met, I read your chakras with my dowsing rods, and every chakra was wide open. “You’re a shaman,” I exclaimed with excitement. Which means you are indeed a healer.
Will had a free-spirited nature, a live-in-the-moment, go-with-the-flow attitude, and a thirst for adventure, an endless drive to create, inspire, and effortlessly shift others’ perspectives. Whether on film sets, casually conversing with Tom Hanks, tinkering with sewing machines, or leaping into the next adventure from Colorado to California, Nevada to New Mexico, or wherever your muse led you were undeniably on a spiritual journey.
Bikes, Airstream trailers, dreams of life on the road, music festivals, and a deep passion for living, it was all part of you.

I am endlessly grateful, humbled, and honored to have crossed paths with you, my dear friend and comrade, WWHD. In my mind, you will always embody the spirit of a friendly giant. You changed my perspective on both spirituality and business, and I am forever fortunate and grateful.
“I cherish the present, for it's a precious gift.”
Thank you for being you. I am so blessed to have known you an ever contemplative, nostalgic soul; a true cowboy, adventurer, and straight-up Texas dude for life; an artist and spiritual conduit, fully alive in the moment. A ride-or-die kind of guy, you will be forever missed and loved beyond words can convey.

Meeting Will at Empire Control Room in spring 2018 was a pivotal moment for me. We met through a mutual vendor while setting up in the back patio of Empire Control Room. That night, Will rocked a tie-dye shirt, teamed with a fringe leather vest and yellow-tinted sunglasses. We bonded over vending designer clothing and jewelry, and his genuine approach on selling left a lasting impact on my business mindset. His advice about selling only what you truly love struck a chord with me, reshaping how I approach my own ventures. His words still resonate with me today, guiding the way I run my businesses and brands. “If it's not something you love, don't create it, don't sell it, just let it go.”

In the fall of 2018, we set off on a road trip through New Mexico, an experience that remains vivid in my mind. It's around 3 or 4 o'clock in Austin, Texas, and the weather is mild and temperate. I find myself running behind schedule, although at that time, I had neither a schedule nor the desire to adhere to one.

Hey, you ready. Still coming right ?

Yup

On my way!

Word

What’s the addy?

Address

I’m here!!

I was living on the east side then, in a two-and-a-half-bedroom bungalow. I quickly grabbed my packed belongings, and threw everything into the trunk of the Honda Accord, gathered Nico and her essentials, and drove toward the west side of downtown. You were waiting with an extra-large black duffel slung over your shoulder and a backpack stuffed with who-knows-what probably odd trinkets, gadgets, and pocketknives for the road, mostly things unrelated to any real road-trip necessities. A backward cap, unwashed, messy hair, a black cutoff tank, and jeans pulled the whole look together. It was a heavy metal kind of vibe, midnight highways, distortion humming through the speakers, something untamed just beneath the surface. That’s how I first remember you.

Within the first 8–10 hours of our adventure, everything came to an abrupt halt when we collided with two massive elks, standing at least 15 maybe even 20—feet tall. It was a late-night drive headed westward, and then, bam. “Deer in the headlights” would be an understatement. My dog, Nico flew off my lap, and I quickly turned my head toward Will. I remember thinking, I just met this guy six or seven months ago, and here we are?
*“Shit, are you okay, omg are you ok?… Your hands are bleeding. There’s glass on you.” Both of us, in shock, glance at each other in disbelief.*
*“That deer, or whatever it was, just popped out of nowhere!” Will exclaims.*
*“It was like a monster…What on earth was that? ”- I gasp*
*“It was ginormous, like 15 f…..!?” as his eyes widened with adrenaline surging.*
“I think we should pull over,” I interrupt him immediately, holding Nico, my dog, tightly against my chest.
“There’s no-where to pull over. Let me slow down a bit and get us somewhere safe first.”
Will cracks open the driver side window. At this point, we have no clue where we are, nor do we know if it was a deer or an elk, or that it’s that season and they’re rampant. Just a few minutes later—bam—another elk. It bounces off the hood and flies off the right passenger side of the vehicle.
*“Nah, let’s definitely pull over. Why do you keep hitting them?” I ask, frowning in bewilderment.*
*“I’m not trying to,” Will responds, stunned but still very calm and cool collected.*
*“My dad has told me that if I were ever in a situation like this, I should keep the wheels straight and hit the animal head-on instead of turning the wheel and swerving.”*
*“Oh great… so you mean purposely hit the animal? Why would we do that? How about… just not hitting it, maybe?” I say, and we both chuckle, trying to make light of the situation we were in.*
*“And this is coming from a Californian telling a true Texan…. Hmphh, because it could have been way worse,” he responds confidently.*
“Ughhh… okay, I suppose you’re right. I mean swerving would have flipped the car.. Let’s get off the fucking road. Pull over right now!” I sigh in frustration but firmly make the decision for both of us.
*“I can’t believe that deer or elk or whatever that was just came out of nowhere,” William ponders aloud, still in shock.*
“Look you didn’t hit just one elk, William, it was like one after the other… two elks, not one,” I say sarcastically, teasingly gesturing with my hands, first flashing two fingers, then pointing the index finger straight in the air, to emphasize our current predicament.

The following morning, despite broken windshields and shattered headlights, with glass bits embedded in the floor mats, one might have expected a sense of failure to permeate the air. However, it was quite the opposite, positivity and lightheartedness prevailed, fueled by a strong sense of adventure, As the song and anthem “I Wasn't Born to Follow" by The Byrds faintly plays on Spotify, we bonded over the film Easy Rider, one of Will’s all-time classic favorites. We continued our journey, driving through the desert landscapes of Arizona, exploring Route 66, and collecting various artifacts and rocks along the way. Stopping at gas stations and occasionally at thrift shops and crystals geode corner stores, and jewelry shops amongst native territory, we made sure to budget our remaining money while fully embracing the adventure that lies ahead. Cruising through Palm Springs, the California desert offers a beautiful mix of sandy dunes and tropical trees, with dusty roads stretching endlessly and real tumbleweeds rolling by. It's 5 am, and we stumble upon an open-air market that just happens to be unfolding.

Stranded in a small town, we sought refuge in a quaint 1950s diner, surviving on burnt coffee and a mediorce Tex Mex breakfast, all while shielding our eyes from the relentless New Mexico sun shaded by darkened sunglasses. Tempted by the mourning sun we pondered our predicament, one question lingered in our minds: Where on earth were we? Alamogordo, New Mexico is located in the southern part of New Mexico, which is east of Texas. We wake up beside a Kings Thrift store, just around the corner from a body shop where the windshield was being repaired. Conveniently, it was the perfect opportunity to distract from the current situation. Exploring both the main and side rooms, we checked to see if there were any hidden gems waiting to be discovered. Will finds a leather studded belt and some graphic tee. Kings thrift was mostly estate sale items mostly glassware and home decor, with the exception of some really eclectic variety of bolo ties and trinkets.

San Francisco, Fall of 2018- Nico and I outside of Wasteland.

In the midst of our road trip, we found ourselves engaged in conversations about music and notable landmarks. I took on the role of tour guide, sharing insights about California with Will along the way. Joshua Tree, the dwelling place of legendary musicians like the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and U2, has been immortalized in song. The stars above are truly mesmerizing, especially as they twinkle between the rocks while driving past old western film sets and iconic rock venues, such as Pappy + Harriet’s. After a brief catnap and a quick recharge, we hit the road again and decided to make a pit stop in Belmont Shores, Long Beach. As we drove towards our destination, even with a few hours of sleep everything felt tranquil. There was no need for words; we simply breezed along while he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of some Slayer song, occasionally breaking out into some air guitar. 🎸 In East Belmont Shores, we popped into a buffalo exchange and a pawn shop, striking deals along the way. I watched as Will sold a designer watch, although the brand escapes me now, It was all part of his strategy of buying and flipping to fund the trip……ahh yes, it was likely a James Avery watch.

“We’ve arrived at the City of Lost Angels!”

Echo Park in Los Angeles, is nestled alongside Sunset Blvd, adjacent to Wood Cat Coffee, we ventured into the most eastern heart of the city. That night, we found ourselves at an official LA scenester, Halloween-themed birthday costume party for hair stylist and friend Megan. As Megan's birthday was on the horizon, we scrambled to find the ideal gift. Will, armed with his toolbox of jewelry-making supplies and various trinkets, sprang into action. After selecting an onyx pendant, Will crafts a pendant necklace from scratch. In the midst of the party, surrounded by a diverse crowd of nomads and industry folks in costume, we stood among road dog vans and vintage Harley motorcycles. Clad in dusty boots, leather biker jackets, and tinted yellow sunglasses, we quickly find Megan to give her the bday present. Megan's face lights up with joy as she declared it’s the perfect gift!

The following morning, the irony struck us. Just 72 hours earlier, we were stranded at a dusty diner in Alamogordo, New Mexico. Now, we found ourselves enjoying brunch at singer Michael Stipe's restaurant in Los Angeles, California, accompanied by friend and film director, Tara Anaise. The mission still stood strong, and With just a few hundred dollars in our pockets, we were ready to hit the road again making another stop in San Francisco to explore some rock 'n' roll dive bars and vintage shops on Haight and Ashbury Street. While there, we stumbled upon treasures at a favorite spot of Will's, a West Coast gem called "Wasteland," known for its designer goods and vintage items. Will found a leather jacket, added a touch of Deluxor Leather, and attached a clear quartz keychain crystal. Somehow, he managed to sell it for four times more than he purchased it for. Will had a talent not only for designing but also for finding and reselling treasures he loved. He thoroughly enjoyed the process of selling, finding the perfect item for the right person, and intuitively knowing how to connect the two.

**(photo left Wasteland store window, in SF 2018)**

Unscathed and optimistic, we journeyed northward towards the mountains of Humboldt County, fueled by stale 7-Eleven coffees consumed during overnight drives. Our ears were filled with spooky podcasts, tales of unsolved mysteries, 70s cult stories; Charles Manson, the Beatles, the Beach Boys, and the Sharon Tate phenomenon, Jim jones, vowing to never drink the Kool-Aid lessons, Hunter S. Thompson, and Jack Kerouac, alongside podcasts on extraterrestrials. As we ventured further into no man's land, our anticipation grew.

While the road trip will resume at another time in the future, for now, we've reached Eureka, CA. In any direction you choose, whether heading north, south, or east be prepared for a lengthy 5-hour drive to reach any major city or airport. Arcata, is another small adjacent town nestled in the heart of nowhere, far removed from bustling civilization, surrounded by encircling mountains and billowy clouds. Picture the elegance of fog gracefully caressing their tops, with most days veiled in overcast skies, occasionally pierced by fleeting bursts of sunshine.

We’d soon venture onto no man’s land territory, a place known as Murder Mountain…….

“So, where we headed?” Will asks, squinting at the winding road ahead. It’s three or four in the morning, Pacific Standard Time, and we’re nearing our final destination in the heart of Humboldt County.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention… I think it’s called Murder Mountain.”

“Murrderrr Mountainn???” Will repeats, curiosity creeping into his voice.

“What? I didn’t name it. But are you scared?” I reply with a straight face, shrugging nonchalantly. A slow smirk spreads across my face as I glance at him from the corner of my eye, ironically, still in the passenger seat while he drives.

“Good,” I add, breaking the silence.

We both laugh, uncomfortably.

“Oh, and by the way, we’re driving up to my ex’s cabin in Kneeland, and he doesn’t know you’re crashing there. There’s a couch downstairs, and I’ll take the upstairs bedroom.”

“Oh, so you just left that detail out?” Will replies, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“No, it’ss okayyy. He’s in Thailand for three months, and he’s on vacation” I respond instantly with a reassuring tone.

Will glares at me in disbelief, mixed with sheer amusement. “This trip keeps getting better and better,” he mutters under his breath.

“Hmmm… so, Murder Mountain it is,” he repeats, this time charged with the thrill of suspense.

A brief silence settles between us, the air thick after hours of murder mysteries, unsolved disappearances, and tales of cult families lurking in the surrounding woods, pressing in from every side of the darkened road. All the while, we’re winding through the night in a now beat-up Honda Accord, and somehow, not once do we get pulled over.

“Okay, here we are, there’s the gate.” I gesture firmly toward the metal barrier straight ahead, caught in the glare of the headlights.