Behind the Scene
THE FOUNDER OF M3 FITMODE
Living Frequency.
There are people.
And then there are systems or blueprints of people.
Jeremy —Jey—isn’t just a coach. He’s a f*cking blueprint recorder.
Grew on a farm butcher pigs, cutting trees, bearing vegetables from the gardens, while help run the 50 year old Family Restaurant.
A combat-trained US Navy corpsman.
A body mechanic with 7+ years of yogic and martial mastery.
A mind forged in extremely tough times, refined in personal development, and sharpened in billion-dollar boardrooms.
Founder of M3 FitMode.
Author of The Jerry Book series.
He was born in both chaos and love.
Since then, his life has been a calibration:
From US Navy medicine to high-level compliance in tech start-ups like Veyo.
From rooms with giants like Henry Nicholas III of Broadcom and Mike Randall of Snapchat…
To launching a boat business during COVID that hit over 113% ROI in less than 3 months on the West Coast.
Success is great. But impact? That’s the legacy.
The Series…
The Jerry Book is based on his true story—a 12-part psychological thriller unwrapping the journey beneath the muscle.
Episode 1: Silent Genesis – (Out now on Amazon Kindle Unlimited)
Episode 2: The Extortion of Love (Out now on Amazon Kindle Unlimited & Amazon)
The legal battle for his VA benefits? And how he lost his benefits! Later episodes.
Episode 1:
The Silent Genesis
Episode 2:
The Extortion of Love
The Art…
isn’t decor. It’s declaration.
Alexander Constantine’s “Differences”—the piece that called him by name
A rare 1973 Salvador Dalí from Les Songes Drolatiques de Pantagruel
These are pieces of the blueprint, framed in legacy.
Alexander Constantine
“Differences”
How I Got It
Back when I was working for a jeweler in Carlsbad, California, life wasn’t normal.
My boss? Drove a Ferrari, bought a Rolls-Royce in Vegas in cash off a single jewelry sale, and had estates next to people like Bill Gates.
The kind of man who could buy $1,000 shoes just to make sure I “looked right” in the room.
Every day, something new. Something loud. Something expensive.
But in one of his back rooms—surrounded by diamonds, vintage watches, and gallery-tier art—there was this one piece: “Differences” by Alexander Constantine.
It didn’t have fanfare. It didn’t need it.
It pulled me in. It was like looking at a part of myself that had been painted before I even arrived.
I turned to him and said:
“This one’s mine.”
He didn’t argue.
He handed it to me. No questions. No price tag.
He knew—just like I knew—that art like that doesn’t belong to whoever holds it. It belongs to whoever feels it.
How do you feel about this piece? Does it make you feel bold?
Details:
• Untitled, from Les Songes Drolatiques de Pantagruel (1973)
• Edition: XLIV/C (44/100)
In 1973, Salvador Dalí—unapologetic surrealist, showman, prophet of the absurd—released a limited lithograph series titled Les Songes Drolatiques de Pantagruel, inspired by 16th-century satire and rebellion.
The original book? A bizarre visual text rooted in Rabelais’ Pantagruel, filled with dream figures and strange creatures meant to mock the social and religious constructs of the time.
Dalí didn’t just reinterpret it—he cracked it open and let his own psyche bleed into the paper.
How I Got It
I wasn’t walking through a gallery.
I was working for a jeweler—the jeweler—who bought Rolls-Royces in cash off one sale and dropped $1,000 on a pair of shoes just to make sure I “matched the aesthetic.”
While moving through his world of rare stones, fine art, and high-stakes deals, I bought this Dalí online in an auction—a quiet moment in a loud life.
It came with four other pieces, but this one… this one was mine.
Not because of the price. But because of the statement it made.
A “f*ck you” purchase.
My way of saying:
I’m not just adjacent to wealth, eccentricity, and power—I am that frequency.
What This Piece Represents
This piece isn’t for collectors who want pretty lines and safe edges.
It’s for those of us who know we’re not normal—and never tried to be.
It’s for the ones who live with too much voice, too much energy, too much truth, and decided to lean in anyway.
Dalí was outrageous, sacred in his defiance, and relentless in his expression.
And this piece carries that essence forward.
So if you feel it tug at you—good.
Because that means it already recognizes you.
It’s the part of you that refuses to shrink.
The part that doesn’t ask for permission.
The part that says “I am not normal. And that’s exactly why I’m f*cking valuable.”