Free to work my own hours, I started hitting the clubs, gathering photography and web design clients and trying to make ends meet. Big Life hooked me up with a few media passes for local concerts, but eventually the magazine faded away. About a month later, in mid-2001, a designer I’d met named Jesse Jazz told me that his boss, Mert Deezine, was putting out a magazine called Orlando Source. Hoping to get more work as a concert photographer, I met with Mert and he agreed to pay me $50 a month for club pictures. I emailed him a few articles and a photo gallery, already formatted. Impressed, he offered to pay me hourly to layout the whole magazine. I laid out the second issue (June 2001) in 24 hours straight while he sat behind me watching. He paid me cash, then offered me 30% partnership in the company instead of hourly pay. I accepted. Later, I became 50% owner. There are some negative things that could be said about Mert, but I’ll focus on the positive: he knew how to evaluate his customers and charge accordingly; he had found his niche by cornering the urban community in Orlando; and he knew how to profit off other peoples’ talents. During the year that I was the editor of Orlando Source Magazine, (if memory serves correctly) I never once made a financial profit. The experience I gained in the process was invaluable, but I was broke. Late one night, on September 10th, I broke down crying in the office talking to Eric, a DJ on the underground radio station Clientell. My phone, electricity, everything was turned off, and I was at a breaking point. The next morning the Twin Towers fell, and I realized I should be happy just to be alive.

In April 2002, I started realizing that numbers weren’t making sense - Mert was a local celebrity, collecting money and free shit from all the advertisers, and I wasn’t gaining anything from all the work I’d put in. He got a big head and got greedy, planning to make a huge profit from the Orlando Source Awards which backfired on him. He started doing interviews without mentioning me as his partner. Then the Orlando Sentinel ran a large feature on me, and Mert was furious. I didn’t know it at the time, but The Source Magazine was preparing to take legal action against us for the name. Mert and I weren’t on speaking terms, so he told his sister to inform me that the magazine was done. I disagreed - I wanted to put out a farewell issue instead of just quitting. One of his friends - a racist, ignorant asshole - saw the conflict and started his own magazine, hoping to pick up all our advertisers. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone like him profiting from the foundation I’d built. To make a long story short, Ruff from the WarHedz/M3s suggested the name OZONE (which means ORLANDO) for our TV show which never materialized, and with his blessing I adopted the name for the magazine. The May 2002 issue was ready to print, but I was short by $1k exactly. Our Central Florida street team, Mercedes of Strictly Streets (a blessing from day one), told me that a mutual friend, Chino, was thinking of investing in a magazine. We met, negotiated, agreed, and the rest is history.

Reflecting on two years, like Sir Knight Train told me last week, "You’ve got people that love you, and people that hate you, so you’re headed the right direction." The funny thing is, it’s only the people that you love that can fuck up your head and throw you off track. You can choose to not give a fuck about anyone and distance yourself, or you can give 200% and suffer for it. I choose the second option, every time. It’s all or nothing - I care too much. That’s why I’ll always come out on top, regardless of the pain I might endure in the process.