Betrayal – I’m There

Last Friday, I finally finished the letter I’d been writing to WIlliam. This letter took nearly five months to write. I made it a point to pass by WIlliam’s home and post the letter on his door. Without going into the depths of what I actually wrote, it was very-well written and compassionate. I’ve moved on. As heartless as this may sound, it’s as simple as that. 

A few days later, I found something very sick– all of the emails exchanged between WIlliam and I on a website called (I also came across a conversation between my ex-wife and I had, stolen from my personal Facebook). Amid these emails was also this quote:

  ” ‘The relationship between Jerrick and myself was a very volatile one. This is due to the delusion of this young lady believing that she is indeed a male. While I admit I did love Jerrick, there were no ‘homosexual feelings’ involved. The person I kissed was a woman, a very confused one, but a woman nonetheless. I was the emotional protector at a time when Jerrick was recovering from a substantial amount of traumatic events, including nearly overdosing at the Folsolm Street Fair, which I believe she did to get out of work. Had it not been for my presence, Jerrick would have most certainly committed suicide on a previous ocassion. I attempted to try “relationship mediation”, but Jerrick would not co-operate. I believe it was becasue of Amanda Maynard, Jerrick’s best friend, was telling her not to. Whenever Jerrick and Maynard were together, Jerrick’s behavior shifted dramatically from the intelligent young woman whom I used to have conversations in the park. I feel hanging out with Maynard was a cry for help, and Jerrick could do it no other but vicariously through another person. It saddened me greatly. Our communication grew more and more arsh. Finally, I had to break away from this person, much as I cared about them. Jerrick is a wonderful person with a very intelligent mind, but ever since she was sexually assaulted and infected with HIV, she hasn’t been the same.’ ” 

I stopped cold. I was minorly upset by this, but mostly saddened that someone whom we’d shared great things with would go to such extremes for revenge. I am not a vengeful person. I will state there is no truth in this passage which WIlliam posted. In return, I will not retaliate, but will rather go to his home and confront him about this. For once, these accusations are not baseless. The emails were between WIlliam and myself, and no one has ever seen them. Paste Bin has since removed these emails, generously so. I am off to ponder what to say to WIlliam, for I myself am very disturbed by this. It is so incredibly unlike William’s character to do such a thing. Then again, revenge comes when one doesn’t expect it in the form one would never want to see it. I am very sad he feels this way. All one can do is attempt to rectify this.


Caramel Cookie Waffles…Tummy-Hurting Goodness!!!!!

This is while I was a street kid, sleeping on Muni (the name of the transit system) at night instead of on the sidewalk–almost died doing that shit from pnemonia–is the first time I had a Caramel Cookie Waffle. While one of my friends was pregnant. The cookie waffles, I mean. She (Andrea, the pregnant friend) and I were standing outside of drop-in waiting for Overage Day to begin. (That’s part of Larkin Street Youth Services,, a place where i’ve spent nearly the last seven years of my life dayum.) We weren’t supposed to be loitering because there’s a two-block rule concerning youth hanging around the doorway of any Program. But we were, and staff wasn’t telling us to move, so whatevers.

Andrea had this little bag of something. I asked her where she got it from. She said some staff member, I don’t remember which, it may have been Sue, the Larkin Street ‘behavior’ counselor. Andrea handed me one of the little cookie things she was eating. I really liked them. The little package said, “Stropwafels”. That’s all I remembered. I really liked them, but forgot about them because I had other things to worry about, like where I was going to sleep that night.

About two weeks ago, I saw a “Caramel Cookie Waffle” had a page. I asked for a sample. I was broke and really wanted some, so I asked. Here’s what I wrote to John:

   Well, if that’s truthfully the case of you all being so awesome, I’d kindly like to ask if you all could possibly me some? i can’t really afford them. a little box of stropwafels would be great. not a case. (unless you all want.) but i’m not greedy. i just love those little waffles. they’re just so YUMMY, and i’d really like some!!!! they make me feel happy nd all smiley. i’ve only had them once. please? if so, my address is Prince Jerrick Falling-Darling 869 Ellis Street San Francisco CA 94109

please please please please oh please? i’ve been all beat up from paralysis recovery (not a sob story, i’m seriously just hurting), and those cookies would make me feel better!!!!!

– March 16 2012

Then John was like:

Remember [Prince] Jerrick we are not a charitable organization. The request is unusual…. We will mail you a sample on Monday. Take care !
John CCW Mgr

                                                                                                                  – March 16 2012

I was probably pushing it, because he didn’t sound like he wanted to give away something for free (in this capitalist country, who could blame him) but I really wanted to have taste those cookies again. So I wrote back:

 Hey, ill take what you all offer! Thank youuuuuu. That be hilarious if you all were a chartitable organization…”stropwafels…saving the whales one cavity at a time.” 

                                                                                                          – March 16 2012

A few minutes later, he wrote back:

Have a nice weekend ! John

To which I responded:

 Waitin on nem cookies, I will. But really. Thanks. Same to you! 

I don’t live at the Lark-Inn anymore (that’s the address I gave them, it’s the youth shelter for 18 – 24 year olds), but that’s where I had it sent because I do’nt trust my housemates–they’d’ve opened my shit and eaten them.

The actual cookies are like this: First, I’m not sure whether to call them a cookie or a waffle. They’re kind of both. The waffles that sandwich this nice thin coat of REALLY good caramel are wafery, like those little tea wafers you get at a store. Second, they’re BIG, about three inches in diameter. The ones Andrea had were ‘mini-stropwafels’. Those were like about an inch in diameter. I FINALLY got to the Lark-Inn to get my package and the front desk staff, Selin, that night, was skeptical because the last names didn’t match. (My middle name was used as my last name on the package.) I was sitting at the front desk eating them. I shared one with Selin and she was like, “Wow.” I always got a kick out that reaction, because most filks I know have never had one.

I got back late and offered one to my roommate. The fact that she was laying down in the dark half-asleep was great, because I told her what they were and she sat a little bit, took a bite, and was like, “Oh my GOD.” Nigga was wide awake then ha ha LOL!!!!!!!!!

The cookies came in this nice white rectangular box in three separate cellophane packs. Two contained nine Caramel Cookie Waffles each (which I’ve eaten all of, or gave some away for others to try), and then there’s two chocolate ones I’m saving so ya’ll can see them in the video.

Over all, I give Caramel Cookie Waffles six out of five stars.

They’re a pretty unique treat. You’ve probably never seen them before, and if you have, you know what I’m talking about. Hehe ^_^

For my own personal reasons, though, I can’t eat them because they make my stomach hurt–I’ve switched to not eating processed or excessive sugar, and my stomach betrayed my tastebuds. The first time I had them, they didn’t bother me. Since then, though, my diet’s very different. I can’t eat Rainbow Twizzlers anymore, and for those of you who KNOW me, those were my SNACK right there!!! I like them so much, the Caramel Cookie Waffles, and I’m a little bummed out, because my stomach can’t handle all the sugar. Yes, they’re rich in carbs. Absolutely. But this is just my body, not the cookie itself. So be going around saying shit if you haven’t tried them for yourself yet.

If you’ve got a major sweet tooth and your stomach won’t get upset with you, I highly recommend  them. They’re really good. And you can freeze them too. Stropscicles!!!!!

Thanks, John. I really appreciate the cookies. For me, it was nice and healing. I can only eat half at a time and I brush right afterwards (I suggest you all do the same), but they’re damned good.

Find them on Facebook:

Order Here:

Call them: 1 406.252.1960

Go Visit Them: 1707 17th Street West Billings Montana 59102

Lmao. For the record, my friend just asked when I’d be off his computer. i told him I was writing the review for Caramel Cookies Waffles—promised I’d have it for them before midnight PST-and he said just now, “Those cookie things? Those were fucking DELICIOUS.”

America’s Got Talent Auditions Season 7 – San Francisco CA

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America's Got Talent Auditions Season 7 - San Francisco CA

Kyle & The Kitsons take over America’s Got Talent Auditions in San Francisco!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday, February 11, 2012 @ Bill Graham Civic Auditorium

(right to left: sisters Alicia O’Brien and Anja Brooks, Kyle & The Kitsons frontman Vaughnjareya J. Faulkner)

The Falstich Itch Revisited

Here’s some funny things from my personal Facebook from a few days ago, including a few minutes ago. It’s not malicious, but in fun. Mostly because it involved me to  some degree, and I can’t keep my mouth shut about stuff like this because it’s just too funny as a life-experience. Though on a more serious note, online bullying can be real. So if one chooses to write, remember to not turn into a major douchebag. At this time, I’d like mention that Joel McHale is one of my favorite people.


So goes the Facebook post. I open up my Facebook to find this: I got a friend request from Tiffany Falstich. AGAIN. I’d blocked her, but if she wants to see what I’m writing, who am I to deny her this delicious privilege? Here’s what I posted to her wall abut ten minutes ago:


okay, tiffany. if you insist on being my friend. we tried this last year, but it was for all the wrong reasons. i’m sure you heard about my post, which is why you added me. (i mean, i’m a gossip columnist, so it’s not like i was trying to keep it secret.) that add has to be fairly recent, though, because i unblocked you about three days ago. but as you are persistent, we can be friends.

This is likely why she re-added me, though. I posted this a few days ago:

OH. MAN. i know where at least some of my truth lies, in at least being a gossip columnist of some sort. and granted, plenty of those silly lsys kids are gonna be all’ “yeah, i don’t like prince jerrick. SHE blah blah…” but here’s some stuff i want to point out. tiffany and chris got married. yay. i, for once, am for the sanctity of marriage. i am also for families. BUT but but…i looked at that baby…it look like anthony…ooh…that beaustiful baby boy looks like anthony…not like chris…ooh…i’m sure chris noticed…it’s not chris’s baby. that’s so funny…what people will do for love…all those two ever did was fight…tiffany often beating chris…yes. also, i saw the girl smoking NUMEROUS times while she was pregnant. NOT COOL. i’m saying what everyone else wants to say. what the hell, girl? smoking while you were pregnant. perhaps certain defects won’t show for a while…or perhpas god granted there would be none at all. i also heard (and am not STARTING this one) that ol girl was using meth while she pregnant. let’s hope THAT one isn’t true. again, repeating what i’ve merely heard, as i am a fairly reliable source, but i wouldn’t put it past her. yeah, i had my fling with chris, too…didn’t everyone? i love how homeboy was saying i’d taken advantage of him. lord. “you seduced me!” yeah, right. i’m not the seduction type. but sure, that story sounds far more interesting. so. which of you kids is gonna share this with the falstiches? this is facebook, and my post was intentional. i just don’t like it when there’s an innocent baby involved. poor kid. he didn’t ask to be dragged into all of this. well, either way, i pray those two get it together. not only for the kid (which is anthony’s, look at that kid), but for themselves. i remember tiffany adding me last year. i already knew the jig. so i added her. to make sure she wasn’t losing her man. lol. it’s pretty funny, because that’s why she came back to frisco —- because of me. that is something i WILL gloat about. call me catty, but i’m entitled. nope, i’m far from being perfect. i do, however, love myself. havent been around lsys lately, but i’m sure this post will get around. i hope so. no more silence. i’m writing about EVERYTHING that’s on my mind as i please. watch out! i may write about you. not to be mean, but simply because i love to chronicle about my experiences. i’ll have people mad at me. but perhaps one will think twice before they act. i try to. sometimes i fail. so many will be mad. but, like Ciara Allamby‘s boyfriend’s (Larry) shirt says, “IF YOU AIN’T HATED ON, YOU AIN’T DOIN’ SH*T.”

Unlike · · January 13 at 4:42pm


Oh man. These kids, I tell ya. Because I’m so much better. Shit I gotta get to school.

closer to a goal.

you know, i just had this stark realization that whenever you get closer to something you want to achieve, a lot of your bitterness goes away (if you aren’t a sociopath, that is). also, i don’t give a great big fuck about typos or mispunctuations when i’m posting on Pretty Little Prince. i’ll be heading to the city tomorrow to pick up some of my stuff from the Lark Inn. i also need to go pick up my sewing machine ans what not from khalil, who’s been graciously allowing me to store my ten bags of shit in his recording studio since last february. there is a such thing as wearing your welcome out, folks. i got the bunnies painted on my fingernails. the stars came off. i’m finishing up the manuscript for Will & Disgrace.

oh my gosh! like an hour ago, i had orgasm without touching myself!!!!! i was watching this squirt trailer on, and it was so much visual stimulation that i guess my body couldn’t handle it. i started throbbing before i could get my fingers down there. and i wanted to make sure that i’d actually came, so i reached down and touched my clit, and it didn’t feel as aroused. see, after i come, my refractory period is about 15 to 20 minutes. sometimes 10. i never goes past 20, though. even that’s too long for me. but yeah! i totally came without touching myself!!!!!! that brings a whole new meaning to, “LOOK MA! NO HANDS!!!!”

lol you know you love me. i know i do.

i was hanging out with my dearest friends andrew and andrea, and we were watching all these “Shit _____ People Say ” videos on youtube. i’m going to start writing a script for “Shit Transguys Say” (though i will say right now, i’m not a transguy and i hate the term because it’s loaded) and another one “Shit William Blake Says”. btw, if you want to see who William Blake is, he’s in two of my videos on YouTube. will is the one doing that dance in the background. yes folks, he was drunk. rest assured, william would NEVER do something like that sober. i kid you not. the guy is a stodgy-wodge when he’s sober. that’s one of the things i like about him. tihi ❤ (the blonde white guy in the green blazer is william. that’s me talking, with the nappy-ass gold hair and i’m all fat.)

andrea has a new wig she is letting me try on. i love wigs. therefore, i must try it on. syphilis.

also, in the last 48 hour, i’ve concluded that if i must battle the rich, i’m going to have to become rich. i declare that i shall become the world’s first  trillionaire.

later, there’s adorable short story i wrote about william and i a few weeks back. ill post it later. it’s mostly just dialouge, but it’ll entertain. MUAH! good night, lovies.

Still alive, just not kicking.

you know, everytime i intend to get on here and post something, it never happens. mostly because i am lazy. even if i am sitting right in front of a computer, i will not do it. also, these days, i am exhausted.

i don’t live anywhere in particular, and my computer access is limited to when i can get to hire up, or city college, but since school hasn’t started yet, S3 is closed.

i’m trying to get my shit together to go to school. i’ve been trying to go to school for nearly two years since i’ve come back to frisco, but i couldn’t go because at one point i was incarcerated, paralyzed from the waist down during said incarceration, and then i couldn’t go to school because some financial aid stuff didn’t go through PLUs it was recommended by my neurologists, Dr. Sagaal and Dr. Chou, that i could seriously further injure myself. i have sever spinal stenosis and a herniated disk between L5 and S1, so yeah. if DO get to go to school this semester,  i’d be majoring in physical education and dance. that’s to start with. i mean, there’s SVA and Princeton, but Princeton does not have an optometry program. that’s too bad, because i really wanted to go to princeton. but oh well, what can you do.

other things i’m doing: working on the manuscript for Will & Disgrace, the memoir about my relationship with William Blake. there’s some stuff mentioned about it in prior posts, but this book is sure to be a best seller. there’s homeless kids, fucked up social-workers, people got raped, someone is about to jump off the bay bridge, lots of meetings were had at Gough Park, a sister is lost…can’t say too much more without giving away the rest of the story. oh, and there’s plenty of lying, backstabbing, and rumors in it too. i still see william (i saw the back of his big square head this morning), and it makes my heart beat faster than i’d like. so fast, as a matter of fact, that i wound up having to go to UCSF the other night and have my heart monitored. i don’t like thinking aobut mr, blake so much, mostly because it’s starting to fuck my heart up. i’ve come to the conclusion that i’m suffereing heart palpitations because i’m holding back what i actually want to say to william. hence, being the nasty (nasty as in brutally honest writer that i am) writer that i am.

the thing is, writing about the relationship william and i had is crucial is because 1) the guy had an insane impact on my life

2) i don’t want him around at this time but he still occupies my mind

3) i don’t believe a thing he says about the feelings he has for me (despite he and i not getting along very well, we surprisingly know a lot about each other)


4) i can’t keep having all of these things in my mind like this without an outlet of release. it’s making me incredibly sick. ain’t no nigga worth that, wit mah las’ heart!!!! (and i mean physically, not romatically!)

the last time i was under this much stress, i was 20 and dealing with an ex and domestic and court and jail and i got these terrible stomachaches, sometimes lasting for hours. i’ve had approximately seven of these, and i don’t want them again. this time, with this stress, my heart is going crazy. i have to go back to follow up and wear a heart monitor to record my activity.

i guess, the thing is, i’ve never met someone and fallen so hard in love with them, and now there’s this really fucked-up game going on. i can really only write about it from my perspective, but i have a great intuition given to me by God and i know better.

plus, i need the money and i’m broke. my life has certianly been interesting enough in the last 24(?) years…time to be a big mouth and assault the world with my presence.

there’s going to mentionings about other relationships i’ve been in, like with Andrew BeBlieck, a guy i met online and moved to Idaho and within three days the guy tried to run me over with a car, and there’s Matt Wilson, the little boy i met at occupy who doesn’t know what it means to reciprocate and consider others. but it’ll mainly be about william blake and i. jesus.

one part i’ll mention a bit about is how william had he and i do “relationship mediation”, because he didn’t want to admit it was relationship therapy. we had two sessions. the first session was really heavy and i couldn’t look at him at all, and nothing was really accomplished. we both went back to work that day. i got fired. my concentration was severely injured. i was dressing up as a strawberry (i said i was organic) and standing outside waving and dancing and being cute in general at the time to bring in customers to Fantasy Clothing Company on Folsolm Street the month of October 2011. william was working for SOMA Magazine. i asked him a few days later if his concentration had been hurt as well. “Yes,” he responded.

that’s a story in itself. i’m not chasing the guy anymore. as a matter of fact, i just don’t want to be bothered and know when it’s time to let something go, but it’s still heavy on my mind. but what’s happened certainly does warrant to in writing. i’ve had two dreams about him, one of which he died and it was in a movie(?)-form or something like that…the soundtrack said, “The Forever Death of William Blake”, and it reminds me of the scene where Brake was slowly being smoked in that sack of fur over a fire in The Missing. The movie was called “WigWam” in my dream…i still don’t quite know how to explain it.

God…the things that happen when a black-ish gay, two-spirited trannyboy from louisiana who has a lot to learn about being kind and self-restraint and an insecure stuffy, upperclass, arrogant whiteboy from manhattan kiss each other twice on some heavily emotional occasions….

so yeah. i guess that’s it for now. i certainly didn’t ask to fall in love, nor did he, but i’ve concluded that you can’t decide who impacts your life nor whom you fall in love with. i’ve learned to just leave my heart open.

i’m off to ashby to go meet andrew and put bunnies on my fingernails.

“What kind of pie?!”


So has been my chant for a week now, since October 31st. I am homeless no longer, but homefree. I’ve joined the Occupy Movement. Occupy SF, specifically. OSF for short. Yep. I lost my phone at Fisherman’s Wharf last week. All my pic were in there, the ones I wanted to load on here, but what can you do. It’s not I actually expected someone to turn the damned thing in anyway.

I live in a tent in front of the Federal Reserve Bank. 101 Market Street. Camp 101 I call it. Awesomeness. I’m at Hire Up on the computer, but other than that, I’ve needed Larkin Street less and less these days.

I hear the November 2010 JRC Class laughing in the back. Hmm. I was there last year at this time. Graduation is this week. I’ll be there. Friday. 2pm. Drop-In.

I was on the front page of thew San Francisco Chronicle at the march this past Saturday!!!!!! Our group, the Drama Club at Camp 101, did this act that consisted of Obama in a birdle pulling a rickshaw which contained a rich bitch (our darling Lauren, winkiedoodles ;), who fanned around [fake, obviously] million dollar bills.

Also in the act were slaves, but I’ll get into later. go to I’m sure the pics are up there somewhere. I’m in the very background, holding a drum. I have on a white mask. The slaves had on white masks.

Gotta pop off.


~The Activist Formally Known As Prince Jerrick

Dairy Kween

I keep smelling sour milk. Or old dairy. Why. Is it the rotting flesh of my lip ring? Or is it the collar of my Orphan Andy’s shirt that hasn’t been washed in like a month? No, it can’t be, i washed in a few days ago. i didn’t have it on when Maynard and i had that whipped cream fight…why is this smell follwing me? It stank. Man fuck, nigga.