Well Disciples I have just sent the order of chapters to the editor and it looks like I’m done with the book. We already did the editing and just had to order it. Holy fuck… Time to Nut up or Shut Up, but that’s why I’m showing you how to live. Sometimes you just have to whip it out with full confidence in yourself and see if it gets sucked. Go balls deep America. Always. Everybody go out tonight, get laid and drunk, in honor of this masterpiece coming to you soon. Wear condoms.

For your reading pleasure I wont be doing gay shit like removing chapters from the blog. Keep reading the blog, but it is the rough draft of the book. I have written, four maybe five I’m already drunk, new chapters that will be only in the book. Frankly they fucking rock. They are the Battle, the turkey, the toll both, first exhibitionism and one more I think. If it exists it rocks. And all the other chapters have been cleaned up, punctuated properly, and given their STD shot for the public’s safety. Will I keep blogging yes. Will I keep embarrassing, debasing, and over sexing myself for your amusement. Again yes. As long as you get the fine print and managing your life while doing it. Make the right choice people, be a Gentleman. Live, Laugh, Love, get drunk as hell and have some crazy sex. And maybe do a little work.

Peace love and chicken grease from the shitty city

Taylor Oceans coming to you soon in print and e-book

Long live the mother fucking writers cheers America.

Thanks for reading all you 6,482 bad ass mother fucking disciples.

Change America..If I can do it you can..

A Ramblin Gamblin Gentleman’s Book coming soon

So close America, so god damn close to finishing. It’s almost time to start taking applications for mates on the boat. 14 slots available. No pun intended or maybe it was. Gigidy. No dudes. Embarrassing stories, heartfelt stories, sexy stories, and stories you just wont fucking believe. Put the kids to bed early, because at the end of this month, you’ll be with me all night long. Laughing, crying, and enjoying a hopefully really damn good book.

Proud to be a ramblin gamblin gentleman
Taylor Oceans

Long live the God Damn Writers

Bottle Dance

Quick one before she wakes up. Gentleman make your women laugh when they are sad no matter how much of your pride and rum you must risk. She was having, mother of all, bad days none of your damn business what, but she was so sad a back scratch was not cutting it. Bit the bullet and put on her favorite movie. All three hours of Fiddler on the Roof. Still not cutting it. To make her smile I put a hat on, bottle of rum on my head, and frankly nailed this dance drunk as fuck when it came up, just to make her laugh.  Didn’t drop bottle once, I rock.  Spoil your woman and pets. Only way to treat them.


She shuddered from the force of the storm. The skipper at her helm keeping her facing the waves. The crew’s knuckles white holding on with every fiber of there body. Blinded by the sea spray the skippers eyes are the only to penetrating the storm. She shudders as another waver breaks over her bow. Water rushes over the decks enveloping the crew who strive to hold on. There life lines wipe in the wind. A half inch nylon rope lashing them to her deck. The crew’s only insurance from the freezing seas. Three minutes in the icy waters will cause hypothermia five minutes death. The storm is so strong the skipper could never turn her and recover a lost crew. As soon as anyone hit the icy waters they are claimed by the sea. The inevitable fate to those who live on the oceans. No head stones only the faceless sea and all of her disciples. Another wave breaks over the bow deluging the crew in icy water. They shiver as their dry suites are penetrated around their necks.

For six hours they have fought the storm from her carbon fiber decks. Exhaustion sapping the strength of the crew but the skipper remains vigilant. He has never felt more alive and content. He knows this is his place doing battle with the Oceans. Keeping her facing the storm he steers through the waves. She rises over another thirty foot wave only to drop into another’s belly. Emotionless demons grabbing at her rigging and decks. She strains to rise again and she explodes through another peak. The crew tack her sails as she turns through the waves. She tells the skipper to go more starboard. He commands the crew to dress she is luffing. They lash lines to the winch drums and the gears turn. Her hydraulic’s ache as thousands of pounds are pulled in. The water is forced out of the soaking lines from the tension. Her sails are full again as she drops into another wave. The sun is setting now and the crew know storms are infinitely more dangerous in the dark. Its harder to see the waves coming and in these confused seas she must face the waves head on or she will swamp. One wave over her stern will swamp her. Flooding her cabins locking the sail handlers below while she sinks. A deadly embrace as they dive together. The crew would reach for there leg knives to cut away from her sinking decks. Her lines grabbing there limbs as they try to swim to the surface. Only to freeze to death in minutes. The skipper wouldn’t cut away, not with men below. He orders raise the storm jib and prepare for night sailing. A flurry of activity ensues in perfect unspoken coordination as sails are dropped switched and storm jibs are raised. The skipper rests his crew as he and his girl enter the storm. Blinded by the darkness he must listen to her as they dance through the waves. She moans and cracks as she is hit by waves telling the skipper to adjust his course for each wave. He feels her roll through the water and he keeps her level. Every ten seconds another rise and another fall. As they cross the ocean together. The electronics have been flooded so with no navigational gear except his compass, glow stick, and intuition he steers her through the storm. Her body language his guide.

Hours pass yet the skipper is attentive to his girl. The crew exhausted from weeks of racing and more weeks to come try to sleep below deck. The utmost confidence in their skipper and his girl. The skipper takes another drag off his e-cig since the sea spray extinguishes his Marlboro reds. He has been awake for 48 hours predicting a path through the storm as they approached it. Holding his girl on course they have gained three hundred miles in the race by his navigation through the storm. Only three other racers entered the storm one lost a mast and was forced adrift. The other turned and ran out the way they came after losing two crew to the indiscriminate depths. The skipper and his girl have taken the lead around cape horn and the final leg, of the Atlantic, is all that remains from victory for his country his crew and his girl. The sun rises and he sees a break in the storm “Not yet he says” The oceans don’t want him yet. The warm sun hits his face, he closes his eyes caresses the wheel and thanks his love. Aurora has gotten him through another storm. Some day they will go down together but not yet. Not yet…

P.S. This was the epic music I found today to help me write this. Wanted the epic tale so needed the music to match.

Sail hard disciples…

Yes I Can

Yes I can be a writer. Yes I can be a better person. Yes I can get my boat. Yes I can smoke less cigs. Yes I can stay clean. Yes I can sail around the world so many times I forget how many times while having a 15 some. What ever your goals it starts with “Yes I can”. If you want to be a better parent, businessman, skipper, pimp, engineer, cook, teacher, carpenter, stripper, hitman, lover, scientist, politician, it all starts with a “Yes I can” Say “Yes I can” tonight disciples. You can do it.

The mountain top, walk on water
I got power, feel so royal
One second, I’ma strike oil
Diamond, platinum, no more for you
Got adrenaline, never giving in
Giving up’s not an option, gotta get it in
Witness I got the heart of 20 men
No fear, go to sleep in the lion’s den
That flow, that spark, that crown
You looking at the king of the jungle now
Stronger than ever can’t hold me down
A hundred miles gunnin’ from the pitcher’s mound
Straight game face, it’s game day
See me running through the crowd full of melee
No trick plays, I’m Bill Gates,
Take a genius to understand me

Enjoy your Friday night America. Drink responsibly and don’t jump without a parachute.


To be Free

Now that the book is in final stages I look back and wonder what my message is. To party,to stay in school, do drugs, quit drugs, to bang, wear condoms, to be nice, to be mean, to be sensitive, to strong, to dream, to be realistic, to be a writer? What do I have to say, why should you listen to me? And here is the message… To be Free. Free from fear, free from guilt, free from doubt, free from selfishness, free from ourselves and to live as gentleman or ladies or transsexual gendered, gentle-lady what have you. Be free from thinking our lives are stuck where they are. Free from saying I can’t do it. Free from saying my book will never be published, free from the nightmares of being forgotten.  To be free of the illusion of control.
The freedom and courage to be who ever you want to be. The writer, the sailor, the drug dealer (I do not recommend this one), the cowboy, the astronaut, the engineer, and hell why not a stripper (Dancer). Be free from despair, loathing, and all the other shit we think is real. Live your lives don’t let someone else live it for you. You only get one.
I want you to be free to laugh, dance, have sex in public, walk in the rain without an umbrella, walk in the grass barefoot, enjoy a sunset with friends in silence, carve your name into a side walk, sail around the world so many times you forget how many times while having a 15some. But don’t hurt others, don’t take others freedom, respect your fellow man and woman. Don’t disrespect others religion or politics, in short don’t be an asshole. Be a gentleman. If you have learned anything from this 27 year odyssey I’ve called a life it’s “hold on tightly, let go lightly” a quote from one of my favorite movies Croupier. Be free to get what you want, and be free to let it go when it’s time. We can always change when we are free.

And now a clip I watched over and over and over again as I wrote this 41,000 word book. I wanted to be free from the life I was in, and I knew I was free to change it anytime. So enjoy my tales.

I’m going to be just like you…


I’ve tried to inspire all of you to better yourselves and to realize that it is never to late to change. Everyday you make a choice to better yourself, be a good person or stagnate, regress, and corrupt. I’ve been there. I watched my dad die in front of me. He went from 256 pounds to 98, in four years. Then turned grey, slipped into a coma and died six hours later. On top of this I lost my home, was thrown out of school for weed.  I lost it all turned to crime as an income and maybe an easy way out of this horrible life I found myself in. Alone in a dank down town apartment. One day I decided to live. To get my boat and get on with living. To have sex with fifteen chicks on that boat and sail around the world so many times I forget how many times. Now I write. Any day I feel like taking the easy way; picking up the phone and making deals to get my boat or maybe just eating a bullet. I remember Zach. He is my new touchstone for I guess a year now. Life can always be worst. Life changes like the tides and the winds, but the trick is to be happy with what you have. To hold your dreams tightly but let go lightly. Have a nice day disciples and try to make the right choice today. I did.

Our Choice

I guess the message I’m trying to preach to my disciples is it’s never to late to change and never give up hope and faith in yourself. Life is full of death and suffering but how we face those moments is how we distinguish ourselves as Gentleman. Spread the word America, make the right choice and pay it forward. It’s never to late to change.  Cheers to Zach a true Gentleman.

Taylor Oceans