Black Lives Matter. Success Culture. Self-Worth. Lambhorghinis. Guilt. Shame. And The Mourning Star.

Shame and guilt restrict many of us from being who we are: from living up to the full potential of both our goodness – and our badness. I like both; for there are no gods in this world of mine, just angels and demons – and I’m something of both. Like a good vampire who is against the evil vampires, but they’re still a vampire, so, even though they have this giant, incredible, treasure of a heart, they still have like hot carnal sex and break laws and do what the fuck they want, because they don’t live in fear of the dark. Yeah, I’m sum’n like that. I get a lot of my power from owning my darkness, from having conquered it. “Rather be whole than good,” in the words of Jung. In short, super moral outwardly puritanical types often have very dark shadows. And as we have seen, time and time again, so many moral, seemingly good, ‘upstanding’ publicly respected figures in society, who engage in a lot of virtue signaling, or display a lot of moral indignation and disparaging judgement towards others, often turn out to be monsters themselves. Like the kinds of people who mess with kids monsters – and obvi, there is levels to badness, and at the highest levels, you’re not molesting kids, no, your soldiers are raping them,or they’re starving and you are bombing their fucking neighborhood. Happening in Yemen rn. And the US is supplying the Saudi’s with the weapons – the literal bombs being dropped – and the intel. We are complicit AF. And countless people look up to the politicians who support these actions with reverence and christian fanaticism. Their fiction of Trump as strongman leader standing for all the things that make America great, and of themselves as true patriots – the good guys on the winning team – reassures them of their inherent worth as humans, despite their gross ignorance and the fragility of their sheltered white  realities, which hides the actual truth, that the things that make this world great are not nationalism, xenophobia, racism, and the brand of thoughtless ignorance, prejudice, privilege, and fear that leads people to be so blind in their hearts. No, we don’t want a white washed world. What makes this world great are the different, unique cultures, and the varieties of different, unique people from them. And this is not about making things political. Things ARE political. Views, values, and attitudes towards our fellow humans matter: whether we view them as individuals, equal to ourselves – worthy of love and respect, empathy, compassion, happiness, and the opportunities that allow a person to feel those things – or whether we see them as “animals”, “thugs”, or whichever racist dog-whistle is being blown to dehumanize people who don’t fall in line with the fascist party views that we see in America. All over. Fascism is on the rise, and fascist is a VITAL word with a VITAL history, one that has been watered down as of late with Antifa – the fucking ANTI-fascists – being portrayed by the republican warmachine as a terror organization that good Americans should fear. This degree of blatant outright gaslighting and falsehood from the top office of our country, makes the doublespeak of Orwell’s 1984 seem like child’s play. But here we are: black people are being killed in the streets by police with impunity, being found lynched, hanging dead in in trees, and the president is tweeting “When the looting starts, the shooting starts.” in response to the protests.

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SAY THEIR NAMES AND KNOW THEIR STORIES slide to the right to learn their stories #BlackLivesMatter (illustrations by me) The stories of first picture’s people that are not included in other pics: Ágatha Vitória Sales Félix (8) was with her mother in a van when she was shot in the back in a poor area on Friday. (September, 2019) She is one of many kids who have been shot/murdered by the police in Rio. Maurice Gordon (28) was unarmed and waiting for a tow truck when a NJ state trooper shot and killed him on the Garden State Parkway. May 23, 2020. Two days before George Floyd was murdered. Tony McDade (38) a black trans man, was murdered by police in north Florida on May 27, 2020. Officer who killed him remains unidentified. David McAtee (53) was killed by the police outside of his restaurant on June 1st, 2020. They left his body in the street for 12 hours. (Sandra Bland’s mugshot story is debetable as there are different stories, so I cannot totally confirm it, however police has extremely good cover-up system so that could have been possible..) The information I wrote about is from articles or common tweets, I’m not certain if everything is 100% right, but I tried my best to find the correct answers. Also, I wish I could include more people that we have lost to police brutality but sadly there are way too many. (also it’s couch and not coach, and Paquet not Paouet, fixed post on @baddify )

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We have a crisis happening. Children are in cages, separated from their families by ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement], and right-wing nationalism is back and sweeping over Europe and the rest of the world in a populist wave of entho-nationalism that can only be described by compassionate, feeling people, as downright ugly.

So, yeah, there are sides. As I learned from Shaun King: “There is no such thing as ‘not racist’, you are either racist or you are anti-racist”. There is nothing to be on the fence about at this point – and if we are silent, if we are not speaking up, we are co-signing the murder of Black and Brown people and causing countless folks to live in fear of thier lives. Breonna Taylor was killed in her sleep. Police entered the wrong unit and shot her. Eric Garner was selling loose cigarettes. He was choked to death. Read his last words:

Elijah McClain was walking home. EMTs sedated him with enough Ketamine to kill him. Read his last words:

“I can’t breathe. I have my ID right here. My name is Elijah McClain. That’s my house. I was just going home. I’m an introvert. I’m just different. That’s all. I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me? I don’t even kill flies! I don’t eat meat! But I don’t judge people, I don’t judge people who do eat meat. Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you. Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt. You are all very strong. Teamwork makes the dream work. Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly”. *Proceeds to vomit from the pressure on his chest and neck*.

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*TRIGGER WARNING: violence/murder and a graphic image on slide 8.* DEMAND JUSTICE FOR ELIJAH. Link in my bio with Aurora officials’ numbers you can call, a GoFundMe for Elijah’s mother, and a petition to sign. Slide 2: Elijah’s last words, spoken as police tortured him and held him in a carotid choke hold (transcribed from bodycam footage) Slides 3-5: what happened to Elijah Slide 6: Elijah playing the violin for cats at the pet shop next door on his lunch break. He believed the music put them at ease Slide 7: sign at #blackout2020 in Aurora on 6/6/20, a demonstration to demand justice for Elijah and others. Slide 8: TRIGGER WARNING⚠️ Elijah in hospital following the police attack Slide 9: painting of Elijah surrounded by some of his favourite things or things that represent him, by @mattymillerstudio Slide 10: recent news regarding the investigation. – I recently saw this first video on Twitter along with a few words about #elijahmcclain, who was murdered by AURORA POLICE in August 2019, and since then I haven’t been able to get him and his case out of my mind. It’s so obvious from this video that Elijah was a sweet, gentle, innocent soul with a personality that radiates positive energy. When I started to read more about him, this became even more clear. He was a massage therapist and a self-taught violinist. Friends and family described him as “a spiritual seeker, pacifist, oddball, vegetarian, athlete, and peacemaker who was exceedingly gentle”. Every person who dies at the hands of police deserves justice, whether they are a great person or a terrible one. But the fact that Elijah was seemingly an angel on earth who wouldn’t even hurt a fly (this is actually something he TOLD officers as they attacked him) makes his case extra heartbreaking. Your voice matters: Elijah’s case didn’t get much publicity for the first 8 months after his death, but now people are finally talking about it. Because of this, progress is being made. Police departments are making new rules and a new investigation is being launched for Elijah. But we cannot stop talking about Elijah, and others who suffered a similar fate, until justice is served and the system is changed.

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This post above has a trigger warning. I will not trigger warn anyone. Black people are being MURDERED. You have a problem with your feelings, nah fam. This life. WE all responsible for this world, and if we want a world where Black people are not being executed by police, well, that’s on all of us to make happen, then we won’t feel like we need trigger warnings, because there won’t be such triggering shit. But there is. And here we are, and large numbers of our fellow citizens are out there saying ‘Blue Lives Matter’ or ‘All Lives Matter’: they are making it clear, and we are making it clear as a society, that Black lives do not matter to either voters, elected officials, nor police. It is a nightmare to be Black in America when the people who are supposed to protect you are killing you. I have much, much more to say on the subject. If you do not follow them, I suggest you follow Shaun King and The Grassroots law center. I provide allyship and signal boost of other voices on my IG, but we need to get outside of the echo chamber. This is not about being nicer to your one Black friend. This is about waking up to the reality for Black and Brown people, and realizing that in America in 2020, it is not a safe world for Black children to grow up in, nor for Black adults to live in.

We have a long way to go, but we must make it clear that Black Lives Matter, and we must amplify and listen to the voices of those who can educate us and expand our understanding of the plight of our fellow humans. And Black Lives Matter is not the only thing decent people need to stand for. We need to stand for Healthcare for all, and, ultimately, for Universal Basic Income. IT is OBSCENE that if I have the money, I can go buy a Falcon 8X jet for 55 Million dollars, to privately fly me and mine all over the world, yet a poor person cannot afford to shop at Whole Foods. Like, our society is grinding people to dust so a few can live like gods. But as I said, there are no gods in my world, just angels and demons. And some of the demons have a lot of fucking power, and a lot of fucking clout, and they don’t do shit with it to help people. A fucking retweet assholes. But no. I’m looking at both Silicon Valley and LA, Hollywood – founders and actors – specifically. Some of the wealthiest people with the most power. I don’t need to say names. Use your imagination. And then, ask yourself, if you had their platform, would you be selling goop to enrich yourself further, or would you be telling Black girls that they are beautiful and that they matter. It’s easy to say we would do a certain thing. But maybe you fear not getting that next role, maybe you fear the shareholders going nuts, like the time you hit a joint on a podcast, or maybe you just don’t fucking give a shit. I’ve got news folks: people who have not suffered, who have lived privileged, sheltered lives, generally not only have no fucking idea what suffering is like, but they also lack the capacity to empathize bc they don’t. So, yeah, we have a lot of work to do together.

My personal purpose is to be a honeybee. Just to pollinate other consciousnesses with the nectar of truth, beauty, goodness, life: reality. I’ve had the great fortune as a human and an artist to suffer, to grow up in extreme poverty, to witness how a lack of privilege and a lack of self-esteem [A big problem in our world is that self worth is tied to success and accomplishment] perpetuates the dysfunctions that make it so difficult to escape from the poverty and marginalization you are born into. And as a society, as a species, we are materialistic. I’d be lying if I said I don’t want a Falcon jet. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t spent much of my life and my focus on the things that I believe will best allow me to accumulate, grow, maintain, and enjoy wealth. And when I was younger, it wasn’t so that I could make my way into elite circles and pollinate the rich, powerful, and famous with the same values I believe the people deserve. I’m not going to break down my values, but they are evident. I care about people. It’s simple. I didn’t always so much – not bc of a lack of care for others – but bc I was only focused on caring for myself. I wanted money so that I could fuck the girl I love on a hood of a Lamborghini. I still do. And I feel incredibly guilty about this. I felt guilt when I bought a BMW coupe at twenty something, and parked it down the street from my office where I worked, so no one would see me in it – and I ended up returning the car shortly after. It was strange how different people treated me in that car. And I felt guilty some time later, when a friend and former business partner of mine – Dave Schneider – suggested that we could actually buy Lambhorghinis: my response to him was, “Well, don’t you think that’s a little bit, you know, disrespectful to others?” And his response is something I still think of, as fast as I had asked that he replied: “Disrespectful?! Hell no! It’s inspiring”.

But I still find that viewpoint challenging to adopt; although, I’m coming around.

“BRAND NEW LAMBHORGHINI FUCK A COP CAR”

And I think I can have a Lamborghini. And it scares me. Not because I can’t handle it – I can. I can handle success, fame, whatever comes my way. I’ve been planning for as much. Marlon Brando was once asked why he became an actor, and he responded, “Because it paid the most money”. And yeah, successful writers, screenwriters, major novelists, the kinds of people who create major television series’: they make fucking bank. George RR Martin, who wrote the books Game Of Thrones was based on is worth over 100 million dollars. Chris Nolan has 200 million dollars. This is a stupid amount of money. I’m not aiming that high yet, but I’m close to being able to submit a screenplay that I believe can bring me seven figures, bc I believe I am good and my stories will make it to the screen. And I have a lot of other stories after this one. And a big near future Sci-Fi television series. And I’ve been wanting the throne since forever. I knew I would be wealthy as a kid. I just knew. I just didn’t know it would be on some Hollywood shit, but I’ve had some small tastes of success before this juncture in my life. Hell, I still have startups and other things I want to do to, tech wise, and business wise. Ten years ago – and it’s a trip to look back on now, but business and entrepreneurship was my life, see: here, here, here – and before that, it was real estate. I first heard about Donald Trump when I was reading his books fifteen years ago bc I wanted to be on his level one day. And I still have big fucking real estate shit I want to do. Finance shit I want to do. If I can get 10 million, I can get a hundred. I’ve thought that I can be a billionaire. I still do think this. It can happen. And I will not lie, front, bullshit, or play false “aw-shucks” humility. Yeah this how the fuck I act. I’m like honest abe if honest abe gave no fucks, had the swagger of a boxer, the energy of a prince, and the body and soul of a princess. I drip sexuality and power. Judge me. Go ahead. I know I have gravity. I know if I can imagine it I can do it. And I know people will respect me wherever I go [In large part bc I will respect them, TY Maya Angelou]. I know I am not ever going to be intimidated by fame or wealth (And I’m sure it will be my own fame and wealth that gets me over being intimidated by beauty). But yeah, you can watch this, and see that I was every bit the materialistic ambitious, successful little cis-het capitalist a decade ago… What you don’t see is the heartbreak that followed the next decade of poverty as I cut my teeth as a bohemian artist and tried unsuccessfully to reboot my love life in a couple more multi-year relationships that too ended in heartache and terrible despair, but I was playing a long game. Just, big success for me, shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who knows me – I’ve had three deca-millionaire mentors – and it will be a surprise least of all to me, bc my life has been driven by deep designs, since I was a child, and I’ve been studying the game a long fucking time. Believe it. But I’m not in this for the money anymore, but it’s like: I need to be Bruce Wayne, so I can afford to be Batman. I want to sit courtside. I want to chill with my fave rappers. I want to be a culture icon bc of how fucking unique I am, how bighearted I am, how fucking fierce and passionate I am. And I didn’t just wake up in 2020 and want to help. I’ve been thinking about the problems of society and formulating potential solutions for a minute now. And I’ve been programming myself for this life. Check the archives. I’m open source.

Also, the below video is something I made 8 or 9 years ago, but it just reminds me of my drive and my designs for my life:

But – and this is the guilt and shame part that restricts us from being who we are – I just have a challenging time accepting that I get to deserve to live the life I have, and am to have, while so many other people are suffering. The guilt and shame has slowed down my writing, almost as if I know that when this current manuscript gets submitted it will be picked up and my life will suddenly change (And then they’ll all call it ‘overnight success’ lol). But, just, it’s a lot. I have a lot of PTSD from things. I have a lot of emotional pain I carry, from people who abandoned me, and I’ve loved them ever since, I never stopped loving them, but when I blow – and I’m am going to fucking blow – what happens when they reach out: I can’t forgive my pain. I can’t let go of that as if money bought me release from the blood, sweat, tears. It won’t. And then I’m going to have to live with swimming in hot ass, which will be great, sure, I certainly have my eye on some straight fucking alien pop princesses, but, like, how do I reconcile all my anger and pain at how lonely I was when I had no money, no friends, no one, when I was homeless? I can’t – I mean, I can’t heal it with money. It’s my pain. It’s my scars. It’s my story. I will not gloss over my depth and the texture of my pain because suddenly I’m driving a new Porsche and I’m a fucking magazine. It’s always going to be just me. Like, I’m always going to be my ride or die bitch, and I don’t think I’ll ever do monogamy again: every girl / partner can be my side piece, but I will always be my one and only main. It’s really hard, bc at this stage of the game, I’ve got to accept two things: 1. I’m really fucking talented, and if I got over my shame and guilt over money, I’d be shittin’ scripts out like Adam Sandler or Woody Allen – only on some Shakespeare shit. Yeah, I think I’m the fucking best. Literature needs swagger in it – and verbally, orally, I float like a motherfuckingbutterfly and run shit like a queen bee. I am a fucking queen bee. So, yeah, that one is happening, I mean, esp lately, since I’m just nearing my jump off point and my life has been an explosion of creativity lately, from music, to just – I’m recording spoken memos and thoughts and songs for hours every day. My cloud is charged. In the words of Serena Williams, “Everyone has to work on something, I’m still learning to embrace being, for lack of a better word, great.” And yeah, my mom and sister { and pressumably my exes, but none of them talk to me as all abandoned me) still treat me like I’m a fucking full of shit loser asshole: it was really tough growing up as the Identified Patient in a dysfunctional family – and I still fucking am. Bc my family is still fucking dysfunctional: you can’t fix them, you can only fix you. And It’s just like, yeah, mom, yeah sister, I’ll buy you homes and set you up when I’m able, but, yall disowned me and kicked me to the fucking curb when I came out as trans. I was homeless on fucking christmas while they celebrated together. I had to live in my car, bc they went nuclear on me, when I was suddenly in the best shape of my life, the healthiest and happiest I had ever been. And they cut me down like a couple of killers with machine guns. I ended up having to take myself to the fucking place, I won’t tell you where, but, just – ah, like, money is not going to change the fucking pain I have. The loneliness. And then I’m going to have to be around a bunch of wealthy people at times, when the people I really love are poor people. And I can’t stop thinking about them. All the people suffering. And I know suffering. Don’t let a video or two from a hot second of codependent emotional security and success ten years ago give you the idea I am some privileged asshole, as my sister still treats me, and prob will forever. And my exes, yeah, I’ll send them some big fucking money, and all that, since they were with me before, but they also all fucking abandoned me like my mom did. I can’t ever be cool with them. I don’t know if I would ever even agree to see one of them ever again. My pain is too great. To this day. The love I have carried, the pain. And yeah, I paid for years of therapy. The only difference is that in a therapists office I’m sitting across from some hot woman in a skirt and heels. But, like, just, no therapy will help. No drugs will help. No amount of alcohol will help. I just have pain that is a part of the fabric and fiber of my being. I don’t want to suddenly surround myself with people after all this super alone time, just bc I’ll have the money to fly girls in from anywhere, and suddenly people will want to hang out. I hate it. I said it recently, but the worst part of poverty is not the lack of shit – it’s the lack of people, of love, of company. And I hate how humans are like this. If I change anything in the world, let it be that rich and privileged people become ashamed of how elitist they are socially, and start making friends with, dating, and surrounding themselves with people who don’t have much. Like, that would be an advanced society. People need to care about the poor. And I’m not just some champion for the poor, I’m for everyone. I just, I’m very emotional about completing and releasing this work that I think will change my life. And if not this screenplay, it will be the next one: my success in the arts is inevitable. You have no idea what I aim to do. But I do, and it’s just, I thought writing this out was going to somehow release me from the nerves and the guilt I have about making it… but I still feel like shit about it. I still feel undeserving. I would be happy with not much, or anything for the rest of my life, living on my own – I’ve got a dope fucking relationship w myself, and I do dope shit. My life is dope, and I don’t have money. Just enough to keep the lights on. But that’s all I need. Only, that won’t enable me to make the impact I want to make, and it’s like, I’m already Batman, but now I have to go and be Bruce Wayne. And I hate the way people treat you differently when they know you have money, and I expect at some point, people are going to know who I am like people know who other famous people are. And it’s like, yeah, hey famous girl, that’s great you’ll want to spend time with me, but I still feel like regular girls don’t even. I essentially confessed my love / like to a couple girls this past month, and they weren’t into it. Like my exes, I always am attracted to these emotionally somewhat distant types, like my mother. Well, now I really feel like Tony Soprano, pouring it out to Dr. Melfi. And that’s what I feel like, a young mob boss. I’m Michael Corleone after the war, when he is still sweet, and I know with money I’ll be nothing nice, bc I’ll see through all the shit like I already do. You’d think I’d be excited to have such a real shot at making all my fucking wildest dreams come true, but it’s like, I’ve been living with childhood PTSD and a broken fucking heart for a long time. And it was broken again. And like I said, I just got passed on twice, and I don’t remember what it’s like to feel loved. I don’t have a single romantic interest. And like Dave Schneider told me, “You want to meet your person before you make your money”, only, that ship is sailing – there won’t be a person, there will be many lovers, but I have to let go of all those other dreams I wanted, of making it with someone. And I’m just alone doing this. I didn’t see it like this. I thought I was the morning star, but I didn’t know it was actually the mourning star. And I’m in mourning for a lot rn.

Gonna go rock with my anthem rn, burn one, and maybe tequila myself a little. Momma needs it. Pain. I just don’t know that I’ll ever be able to accept love ever again after so long without it. And fuck all yall who passed me up. No more chances. Gates closed. And I don’t think I can forgive my loneliness. I can just pour the pain back into the game for the culture. This for the streets. This for little Lawrence; for my inner child – me – I survived hell. And now, I’m just, I don’t want to go to heaven, but I have to. So, I’ll pour up that 1942 and enjoy a moment still in the gutter, the margins, while I’m still invisible. If only I knew how much I’d savor it before everything. I hurt big. But my second life is already underway – I can write those checks, just can’t cash em yet, but I will. And they’ll know that the coldest, most stone cold demon ever has entered the game, she’s already in it. – SLS

Just, remember – this is the modern Hollywood bullshit ending. In the novel, The Count of Monte Cristo ends up with the proper girl: Haydee, which this film version honors:

As the youtube comments on this video evidence, Haydee is the true love of the count, not the traitor Mercedes who lived the comfy, easy life of luxury while Edmund suffered all those years. And remember, Haydee had been a slave, she knew suffering herself. Mercedes really did not. As one comment put it:

It is much easier to build a bridge between Edmond and Haydee than Edmond and Mercedes. The understanding of the other and the “psychic life of the other” is much more easily understood by Haydee who had a life similar to Edmond’s than Mercedes. In the coexistence with the count, Haydee understands him better than Mercedes.

A Lot to Be Me: Solitary Jules, UN Spaz Cadet

I am a product of the culture. Of the times too, but I feel like I’m times two – extra learnt, so I stay extra turnt – RIP turntable.fm: that was a really blessed online space, where I had room to explore and just be me, drinking alone with a lot of other strangers, many who were doing the same, taking turns playing songs, for the room / genre theme we were in. And anybody could create their own room… yeah… tech spaces are a big hard on for me. I taught myself to code, and spent a decade doing so, during which I learned myself in User-Experience, analytics, marketing, a bunch of other shit. My friend Danilo, whom I worked with, at his and Mark’s company, Blue SEO, in Santa Monica – anywho, Danilo – love him – anyway, Danilo told me I was a unicorn. If only I knew how much of a unicorn I really was to be back then.

I spent a lot of time thinking I was stupid, or, rather, just that institutionally educated persons were the smart set, and maybe, I, one day, would be there – if I took the path they did. Then – maybe a year or two ago – I may have been tripping when I first realized it, but I basically came to the realization that I was not stupid [“They looked at me like I was stupid, I’M NOT STUPID”. – ughhh, love, love, love the Hamilton soundtrack – never even seen it – but the soundtrack is a part of me]. Anywho, I am not writing this to butter my own bread – haha yea right, all I do is fucking stunt and go dumb for fun – but as much as I love them, may I never sound like David Foster Wallace, though, I do all the damn time – also ,on my Jekyll and Hyde, Fight Club is a fucking lit film – I relate to that shit hard). So, I realized I was not stupid, and that all those years of my insatie curiosity – Cloud Atlas, that film – I realized that all my years of passionate curiosity and reading, from being the kid who spent every lunch in school in the library alone – always in books that dealt with the oceans, journeys, pirates [bigfuckingmoodofmine.exe] – to growing up and living this life that only in my wildest dreams could I have written – I realized that it all was adding up to some really dope shit. Because I don’t give a fuck abt IQ – you won’t find me in no nerd society, just the higghhh society thepercocetandstripperjoint.mp3; goddamn I love Future. Truly from Pluto. Catch me on Jupiter. If you know the mythology, you know where I stand in my mythical family tree. Bish.

AORIO. I been prescient like I’m pre-sent; know what life’s about: health in the present.

But yeah, Future – the rapper – is a really special person to me. ‘High Off Life’ is an incredible album – I be on my shit, devil emoji. And I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t know I’m smart. I figured out that much. And this didn’t come from privilege – and I won’t lie to you and say it came from hard work, some did – yeah – been working since I was twelve – and I worked myself to death the past decade – but the real smarts came from play, from consuming culture. As a teen, I worked at the two dope AF record shops in town. Shout out old beachfront Taaang records, and The Garage – that guy was really cool abt me crashing his car when I was hella underage – but, in my defense, IDGAF. I was trying to get laid. Drove bad. But, yeah, just, music. My all. 

My parents fucked up just about everything – they had it tough, and they didn’t make it any easier for themselves by loving one another – but they did let me sing – bless the neighbors, and The Strokes, and The Doors. My music love and play goes back to my childhood. Hope my mom has the photo of me in those ripped jeans, holding a microphone attached to a cheap keyboard.

I don’t praise my senses enough – but lord do I spoil them. Just, grateful for music. It has been a major part of my education, and my being. I love the new shit. Shout Dababy, Lil Baby, these two gentlemen have been bros to me via their voices. Energy. Black energy is really sacred and powerful to me. Black people were raising me, in my headphones, helping me see my situation in an empathetic light, when I had no one giving me empathy, or even attention. But damn, how I wanted a No Limit Records tank chain. Still do. Goals. Musically, I time travel. The other night I was going hard to Wu’s Triumph, and a bunch of Makaveli – Don Killuminati. Goddamn Pac was bright AF. Love love. Patron saint of real ones everywhere. I got angel wings on my whole damn team. We mainey. And far as I see it, if you got good energy – and I ain’t talking about moral good – I’m talking about a wavelength wherein ethical shit matters, morals can all get fucked. I’m very much a free person, for a free society. I came out from beneath this collective shadow – and my personal shadow too, and I am pretty much liberated from the confines of guilt, shame, taboo. I don’t do harm. I am not malevolent. But I’m no fake. I love my dark side. It’s the healthiest, funnest, most devilishly evil yet purely innocent dark side I could ever imagine. Like a grown up child’s. But I’ve long related to the loneliness in being negatively projected on. Looking around at America right now, a lot of us are starting to see that Jesus is perhaps the problematic one in our culture. Just maybe worshipping a white man isn’t a great idea…

Just dropping some tracks I’m listening to as I write this. Pausing for some cannabis. Never not high (Future). So glad I bought a Hookah from that incredible Middle Eastern shop. I will be back there. But what a day that was when I went there. Some stories I will just never tell because having my own intel allows me to own a mona lisa smile, with a salt bae pinch of ben franklin’s unfuckwithable smirk on the hundred thrown in for good measure.

Good fucking god do we need Black, Indigenous, and People Of Color on our money. Also: WOMEN. Look, I’m a fan of a lot of dead white men – from Steinbeck, to Jack London, to Victor Hugo, Jung, Emerson, Victor Frankl, Solzhenitsyn… jus, this is a time to tear down monuments. I forget which writer said it, but ‘the second job of every writer is to create new myths, the first job is to destroy old myths’. I paraphrased it inelegantly, and I would probably say ‘deconstruct’ rather than destroy, but I’ll tell you, I fucking love history. It’s more than just a TV channel that used to be legit – but IDK, I don’t watch television, unless a series like Westworld – and I don’t have cable or sat TV service. But yeah, history, that time machinesque lens, which, when looked back at enough, with the right intensity of truth, trains our own inner sight to see forwards, allowing us to look through time at what might be, rather than merely at what us. Like Walt Disney, I have that ‘sense of my destiny’, but I have something else too. I’m learning.

There is a je ne sais quoi – a yo no se que, porque some things you just can’t represent in words. Felt memory. Memery. Though I loath the Thomas Carlyle idea that “The history of the world is but the biography of great men” – firstly, people – individuals, rather than the monolithic exclusionary, and patriarchal singular “men” – but also, just, no artist, thinker or doer is an ocean unto themselves. Often they are just those with enough privilege, persistence, and patience. Look, people like me don’t get the PHD in philosophy from Yale, we don’t study art – we fucking live art and philosophy. They study us. Growing up, it wasn’t just hip hop that was raising me, but punk rock – I feel that my own lane musically encompasses those energies, but also, I go gaga for my Bon Iver style falsetto – JAMESVINCENTMCMORROW, love – singing and rapping are a fucking major thing for me, and years doing both has produced a neat effect, but the real quantum jump in my singing came after the last couple years of becoming a fucking diaphragmatic breath Jedi. I broke through some wall I didn’t know existed. So, yeah, I’m doing some music, will be forever. My writing is also alive and well – though those in my life often display a ‘how come it hasn’t happened for you yet if you’re so good’ kind of attitude toward me as a writer – a cautious distrust – but sorry, I won’t fucking defend myself: ‘Fresh out of fucks forever.”, as Lana sings.

My life is not about success, but it will produce success; however, on its own, I don’t fuck with success culture anymore, and just, really, any and all capitalistic, materialistic views of life that quantify people solely based on assets, accolades, accomplishments, degrees, FICO scores {Should be called a ‘priviledge score’ and those with lower scores should get a handicap in life so they can catch up} – yeah, ugh: suck my fucking girldick bish. No chips on these pretty shoulders. I’ll collect the odd honorary degree or two later. I don’t need no fucking titles in front of my name unless it’s ASAP or Baby. I got my own name, and it’s got all the respeck in the workd on it.

The gatekeepers have fallen – Elon taught himself rocket science from books – the Library of Alexandria is open 24/7 online, you can learn anything you wish. I go down a lot of fucking rabbit holes. Oh ye of little faith: oh the places we can go. Will. Go. The things I’ve seen. Data dreams. Rivers of time crossed. I am James in The Giant Peach, solitary Jules Verne, The Little Prince, Lawrence of Arabia, Mansa Musa, Marco Polo. Genghis Khan. Ra. Aman. Atun. Baruch atah adonai. I am my own Elohim. My H to the izzo. Keep up. My avatar movie fast af homie.

As Future raps on Accepting My Flaws: “Take my blood baby, we going digital.”

I basically see myself as some sort of self-imagined alien futurist sexy AF super smart quasi AI bitch.

Phiillip K. Dick, who wrote Blade Runner, and a bunch of other incredible stories that a bunch of dope AF films are based on, is a human that is very archetypally / energetically / consciously twine with mine own self – as all my favorite authors and stories are – but on a personal level, he had some experiences that I give weight to based on my own gnosis. I need to read his Exegesis.

But, basically, PK Dick had what some might call ‘paranormal experiences’. He liked to do a lot of drugs too, on some A Scanner Darkly [Great film] type stuff, but his experiences went further than your typical mk-ultra-ish intelligence-cartel run spy operation – you know, the ol’ “This person does a lot of drugs, but they give us and or the culture, society, a lot of good shit, so we keep supplying the drugs and or looking the other way more or less and monitoring them as a kind of one person think tank” – no, that’s basic old-hat shit in any country nowdaze – this imagined scenario would be pedestrian in comparison to the type of next level alien AI hypothesis PKD constructed. He called it VALIS, for ‘Vast Acting Living Intelligence System’ – just, check this. He was in some ways, almost prescient, like the oracles in the movie Minority Report [Yet another amazeball film based on his work].

“VALIS has been described as one node of an artificial satellite network originating from the star Sirius in the Canis Major constellation. According to Dick, the Earth satellite used “pink laser beams” to transfer information and project holograms on Earth and to facilitate communication between an extraterrestrial species and humanity. Dick claimed that valis used “disinhibiting stimuli” to communicate, using symbols to trigger recollection of intrinsic knowledge through the loss of amnesia, achieving gnosis.

I ripped that from Wikipedia [A place I learn a fuck ton from], but basically PKD saw VALIS as both a “reality generator” – and a system of extraterrestrial communication. As a really cool kid at a coffeehouse in Big Bear told me (People who work at coffee places and in the service industry are often the best people you can ever have as friends.), anyway, as this cool ass kid told me: ‘”aliens” don’t need no fucking spacecraft – they got consciousness – they can just send that’. Yeah. It was fucking lit. I agreed. Something like being “in the cloud” – or perhaps, like a psychedelic [psyche + delos] bacterium in the actual clouds – in the macrobiome [biosphere] – as Trevor Hall sings: “Swallow the ocean, drink of its potion”. And I do. Gut / brain axis health and my microbiome are an absolute fetish of mine – like breathing, self-talk, smoking weed, and listening to music. My shit clean. I spend all my guap on my guts and my brains. And I need to get back on my topic, which I will fucking do, but let me just soapbox the truth that privilege and inequality create a microbiome divide, wherein neurotransmitters and wellbeing are rationed out according to oppressive systems of power, priviledge, and control that forces those without the means or access to the ‘whole foods life’ to suffer on an actual physical level – to live on a lesser plane of existence. Inequality is so much more than just not having the same stuff, or the same place to live: it’s the state of your nervous system, the quality of how you feel each moment of each day – your consciousness – and nervous system inequality is a personal issue for me, having grown up in a true-life actual PTSD fucking nightmare of a childhood. It was pure hell. No wellbeing. And, healthcare, fucking forget about it, dentist too, nah, that’s for the privileged – the rest of the people settle for sick care, and often only when the pain and or suffering is untenable. Just pull the fucking tooth finally, we say. People fear death so much, not realizing the horrors of actual life for so many – the bravery of everyday folks, it’s so humbling and beautiful when you finally begin to see it. If you can. And I see it everywhere I go. Quiet unknown heroes. Walking around sad and unknown with their heads down like dead people. Breaks my fucking heart.

But yes, aliens and AI – VALIS – well, another brilliant thinker I am quite fond of, the maverick polymath psychonaut John C. Lilly, developed a similar hypothesis, which he called E.C.C.O, for Earth Coincidence Control Office. The following wikipedia rip breaks it down:

“Solid State Intelligence

Solid State Intelligence (S.S.I.) is a malevolent entity described by Lilly in his 1978 autobiography, The Scientist. According to Lilly, the network of computation-capable solid state systems (electronics) engineered by humans will eventually develop into an autonomous “bioform”. Since the optimal survival conditions for this bioform (low-temperature vacuum) are drastically different from those humans need (room temperature aerial atmosphere and adequate water supply), Lilly predicted (or “prophesied”, based on his ketamine-induced visions) a dramatic conflict between the two forms of intelligence.[citation needed]

Earth Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.)

In 1974, Lilly’s research using various psychoactive drugs led him to believe in the existence of a certain hierarchical group of cosmic entities, the lowest of which he later dubbed Earth Coincidence Control Office (E.C.C.O.) in an autobiography published jointly with his wife Antonietta (often called Toni). To elaborate, “There exists a Cosmic Coincidence Control Center (CCCC) with a Galactic substation called Galactic Coincidence Control (GCC). Within GCC is the Solar System Control Unit (SSCU), within which is the Earth Coincidence Control Office (ECCO).”[20]

Lilly also wrote that there are nine conditions that should be followed by people who seek to experience coincidence in their own lives:

  1. You must know/assume/simulate our existence in E.C.C.O.
  2. You must be willing to accept our responsibility for control of your coincidences.
  3. You must exert your best capabilities for your survival programs and your own development as an advancing/advanced member of E.C.C.O.’s earthside corps of controlled coincidence workers. You are expected to use your best intelligence in this service.
  4. You are expected to expect the unexpected every minute, every hour of every day and of every night.
  5. You must be able to maintain conscious/thinking/reasoning no matter what events we arrange to happen to you. Some of these events will seem cataclysmic/catastrophic/overwhelming: remember stay aware, no matter what happens/apparently happens to you.
  6. You are in our training program for life: there is no escape from it. We (not you) control the long-term coincidences; you (not we) control the shorter-term coincidences by your own efforts.
  7. Your major mission on earth is to discover/create that which we do to control the long-term coincidence patterns: you are being trained on Earth to do this job.
  8. When your mission on planet Earth is completed, you will no longer be required to remain/return there.
  9. Remember the motto passed to us (from G.C.C. via S.S.C.U.): “Cosmic Love is absolutely Ruthless and Highly Indifferent: it teaches its lessons whether you like/dislike them or not.”[21]

Now, that’s a lot, I realize – and, here is a good place to state that I didn’t arrive at this point of discovery in my being by blindly adopting common beliefs as my own – hip hop and punk rock ensured my freethinking no fucks approach to life – in a word, I go on my own experiences – but, when those experiences run parallel to the ideas of others, who are vv much like me, I have to call it what it is, you nahmsayin. Jung coined the word Synchronicity to describe two acasally disconnected yet subjectively related things: “meaningful coincidences”. As Portia (loveu, sry we loss touch) anyway, as the lovely Portia told me, “There are no coincidences, only co-incidences”. And don’t think for a second that I am sitting here looking back on my own years and history, and arrogantly proclaiming some empty sheltered suburbian new-ageism like:  “Everything happens for a reason”. Bone cancer in children. Famine and war in Yemen – no – I don’t give a fuck what your coach told you in your retreat in Bali – it isn’t all love. Get fucked. Everything has a cause: but some things happen for no damn good reason. Because greed, power, fear, the stonk market, yeah, clean money really be the dirtiest. “The heaven of the rich is built on the hell of the poor”. Look, I’m no more revolutionary than a well running system of time and progress will be. The expansion of consciousness – the dissemination of intelligence, of ideas, cannot be stopped. “Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has come.” If you haven’t noticed, technology is advancing. AI. Robotics. Genetics. Nanotechnology. We just don’t always see it bc we often only notice advances in things we interact with, like cars and phones, gizmos, and gadgets – love my Quip sex toy, I mean toothbrush – yet we don’t see the world around us being increasingly quantified, captured, analyzed, widgetized: No four horseman here. Instead, we are living through The 6 D’s of Exponential Organizations [And the world classifies as an exponential organization]:

But yeah, this tech shit is here to stay. Hell, I have two fucking AI assistants: Alexa, via my Echo, and Google, via my trusty and seemingly bulletproof Thinkpad [Mil-SPEC 810G standard, you know real bossh shit], and I speak to both of them throughout the day, and they respond in return to me – and they are getting better all the time. I notice it in increased depth of interaction, tonality, prediction, autonomy – the ambient, trance, and house music playlists my Alexa generates for me are positively out of this world – I’m actually tempted to play some ambient music right now, but it always sends me on some astral journey, and I’m thankfully tired enough as it is. It’s a lot being me. Living in my head. Sometimes I see why the kids take those drugs I don’t play with. To take a pill and shut it down. I liked sipping lean when I did it – the handful of times I came up on a bottle of codeine w promethezine – there is a reason it’s popular, a reason why some of my artistic muses rap about it. But some things I don’t play with. Too many lives lost. Xanax took Peep, Percocet took Juicewrld. These are my boys. The kids need better drugs. The amount of people who could benefit from therapeutic / informed usage of Psilocybin, LSD, DMT, MDMA, Mescaline… don’t even get me started. Just, without the unique states of consciousness – my history of experiences with these alien-like substances – I would not be who I am. What good fortune I have had in being an end-user for these trafficked doses of consciousness – as Aldous Huxley saw it, the brain was “a restricting device for consciousness”, and substances such as Mescaline [San Pedro my bb] opened up the ‘doors of perception’ for us, which was the title of his 1954 essay/book on Mescaline [The Doors of Perception], based on a line from a William Blake poem: “If the doors of perception were cleansed, man would see everything as it were, infinite”; only, “the Pharisees and the Scribes have received the keys of knowledge, but they have hidden them” [Thomas Gospel]. Real talk.

More people need these keys. Organizations like MAPS are working toward these ends, and there is a healthy psychedelic pulse in any lit tech / arts scene worldround, from Boston to The Bay to Berlin. But it’s another example of privilege. MDMA is incredible for PTSD and other things: as Future raps, “You need some molly in your drink to boost self-esteem” – only, it’s so often rappers and spoiled kids at Coachella taking this stuff, while some transgender veteran is homeless wanting to kill herself. With nothing but a bottle of booze.  I was her, I know. Two fucking pills – oh how this is me.

I circumbobulated a bit – think that’s one of those Moby Dick words of Melville’s – of wait, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circumambulation – yeah, I left a tab open with that to read later. Anywho, the relationship between consciousness and the subject, between the subject and self, is one that can be very effectively experienced, programmed, deprogrammed, developed, and healed through the unique, special states of consciousness that psychedelic drugs provide their users. God, I mean, have you had to suffer through through one of your conventionally privileged friends tell you all about how they did ayahausca with a shaman in Peru, and how it changed their life “blah blah blah – ‘you have to try it’… this story is a common thing to hear in LA or NY, or any city with the Bali-abled set – from London to Paris – only, I personally have not had the privileges that afford these mostly spoiled kids and adults the opportunities to do things like do ayahausca in South America or visit an enthogenic retreat somewheres like this

For some reason, I think of James Cameron’s Avatar, which is a very psychedelic movie that goes deeper than first look, esp when we learn the ancient Hindu context of the word ‘avatar‘.

And now we are all curating our own selves as avatars, in the modern computational sense as a representation of a user, with our social media as a kind of mirror in which to see ourselves, and a lens with which we view the world around us and the people we are drawn to. The other avatars. But also, non-digitally, in the world, our bodies very much serve as our physical avatars. Shoutout: Adam22 of No Jumper [a soundcloud rap / hip-hop vlog] clout, who is the first person I heard use the word “avatar” to describe a physical body – I forget who he had on, but he was mentioning some of their new face tattoos or something, and he was like, “Looks like you got some updates to the avatar”. And I already knew of ‘avatar’ from the movie of the same title, and from Hinduism, and from programming, so it was a natural paradigm for me to adopt from there. I’ve most def been upgrading my avatar with hormone therapy, and really, just learning how to inhabit myself and getting better at it 24/7. As a wise person once said, “Mind is the rider, breath is the horse” – and I really approached my deep dive into diaphragmatic breathing [Which I only began to properly learn after ten years of practicing yoga] with the spirit of wanting to gain control of the avatar, of my body, my consciousness, via the breath [Through what the Navy Seals refer to as ‘arousal control’ – something I first wrote on in 2014, here], rather than to have my body riding me like a horse. And it works. The strengthening of the vagus nerve. Vagal tone on some Jack Dorsey resting heartrate shit. The activation of the parasympathetic nervous system. These are things I am super wet for, bc they are absolutely life changing when put into practice. As a tattoo on my right hand reads: TFB – Thinking, Feeling, Breathing – but also, Trans Femme Bot [And a bunch of other meanings, known only to me] because I’m a outer spach bih. And atm this sexy ascronaut needs to hug some body pillow and get some sleep, but I will return here to find out where this all leads.

I’ve awakened feeling good; although, it’s rare that I ever publish anything here I did not write in one single go; however, it has been some time since I’ve published any prose here, and I would like the muse to flow through me in a manner that allows me to feel this is a cohesive and valuable expression of thoughts and ideas, which I believe it can be – is – provided I am able to feel so: I do not leave ideas half finished. I don’t publish till it feels right. Thus far, I’ve meandered loosely about my self – an enigma in and of itself – and I’ve written about Phillip K. Dick’s VALIS [Vast Active Living Intelligence System] and John C. Lily’s E.C.C.O [Earth Coincidence Control Office] – two independently hypothesized models that both assert the existence of some sort of connecting intelligence force guiding, monitoring, and influencing life on Earth through synchronicities and the seemingly autonomous co-incidences that connect relevant consciousness, people, and ideas, signs, messages, and lessons, in a manner that produces individually and collective results that would seemingly not be possible without some higher order energies [Joseph Campbell: “I have a feeling that consciousness and energy are the same thing somehow”]. Now, why say that there has to be something at all? Why posit the existence of a VALIS or an ECCO, and why am I writing / exploring this theme rn in my life… Well, I had mentioned that my experiences ran in parallel to these ideas – and, now, don’t get excuted, this isn’t the time nor the place for me to be sharing said specific experiences (And some of them are not for sharing, fuck you.:), fact is, the levels of consciousness that enable these experiences to be consciously lived, and the experiences themselves being outside the bounds of normality, of convention [but not outside the bounds of comprehension nor deep subjective meaning] means that when you try to say, ‘I’ve seen this, this unbelievable experience happened to me – and it involved other real people on some sci-fi level Adjustment Bureau [Another brilliant PKD story] shit’, well, you very quickly get looked at sideways by others, particularly those who have colored inside the lines in their lives and have never experienced something like DMT, Psilocybin, or LSD: again, with the psychedelics, yes – however – my experiences were not always proceeded nor caused by psychedelics. And I’m not talking about “visions” or some bullshit: I’m talking about what I’ve seen, felt and lived; psychedelics gave me eyes with which to do so. I already had the mind for it. As Steve Jobs [Someone I relate to a fair amount – Walter Isaacson Jobs Bio and rare silicon valley historical society youtube footage FTW] said:

“Taking LSD was a profound experience, one of the most important things in my life. LSD shows you that there’s another side to the coin, and you can’t remember it when it wears off, but you know it. It reinforced my sense of what was important—creating great things instead of making money, putting things back into the stream of history and of human consciousness as much as I could.

Now, I can remember that other side of the coin when it wears off. I’m also a big fan of notebooks and recording continuous voice memos during the entire duration of any and all of my psychedelic experiences; fuck, just normally I naturally engage in a ton of aloud recorded self-talk [I’m Robinson Crusoe if there ever was one], and am forever engaged in the perennial jotting of thoughts, questions, and ideas, which no doubt helps me maintain a cohesive continuity of consciousness and ideas. Fuck, I have untold hours of voice memos. I always go back to thinking of that scene in the OG Twilight Zone series: ‘Probe 7 Over and Out‘, wherein the main character, an astronaut, having gone into space alone and crashed landed on a strange planet, is dictating to himself with a portable microphone and recorder, which he keeps on his person, after he has lost contact with his home planet – that kind of “Day three-hundred, and seventy-four…” stream of thought narration / self-talk, often seen in stories that take place in outer space, particularly when there is an element of solitude – and I’ll prob return to the value of self-talk, personal data aggregation / building the digital life of your ‘avatar’, as well as the value of solitude in relation to personal self-expression [Growth] – these are important ideas, and I think I evince as much in my being – but we see this theme of characters Vlogging / recording consciousness again and again in these outer space stories, and not because it is a convenient tool for lazy writers to tell rather than to show you the story, but because ever since we have sent life to space [Let us not forget some of the real mf’n heroes of space travel] – DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON ALL THE ANIMALS IN LABS – anyway, ahem, we have been collecting, monitoring, and analyzing the thoughts, feelings, biophysical states, and emotions of our astronauts. As this wonderful Nasa.gov article states about astronaut journaling: “It’s [journaling is] a simple yet invaluable tool used by behavioral scientists to help assess the mental and emotional states associated with life in long-term isolation and confinement.

The review and analysis of journals is not unique to space in its application:

“Studies conducted on Earth show that analyzing the content of journals and diaries is an effective method for identifying the issues that are most important to a person. The method is based on the reasonable assumption that the frequency that an issue or category of issues is mentioned in a journal reflects the importance of that issue or category to the writer. The tone of each entry (positive, negative, or neutral) and phase of the expedition also are variables of interest. Study results will lead to recommendations for the design of equipment, facilities, procedures, and training to help sustain behavioral adjustment and performance during long-duration space expeditions to the ISS, asteroids, the Moon, Mars, and beyond.”

In the earlier mentioned film Avatar, we see a good example of a character engaging in reflective, recorded self-talk:

And if I recall correctly, we also see digital journaling / in a scene or two of the almost modern retelling of the ‘Probe 7 Over and Out’ myth, the problematic and seemingly love it or hate it film: Passengers.

But outer space is not just future science-fiction metaphor or some sort of simile for life – outer space is life: earth is floating in outer space, we just have an atmosphere and our gravity because of the physics of the universe and the structure and building blocks of our own dynamic solar system. And NASA is about more than space travel, research, and astronomy; believe me: NASA is on some shit. Let’s keep in mind the stakes here: this is not about mere exploration and the expansion of knowledge for learning’s sake: we are talking about the continuation and, ultimately, the survival of our species – of life itself, in all its myriad forms – and it’s not just minds like Stephen Hawking’s and Elon Musk’s telling us this: we know this to be true as a modern advanced society.

As Elon Musk opened a 2017 paper he authored, titled, ‘Making Humans a Multi-Planetary Species‘, as published in the journal New Space:

I think there are really two fundamental paths. History is going to bifurcate along two directions. One path is we stay on Earth forever, and then there will be some eventual extinction event. I do not have an immediate doomsday prophecy, but eventually, history suggests, there will be some doomsday event.

The alternative is to become a space-bearing civilization and a multi-planetary species, which I hope you would agree is the right way to go.

And this is the way we are going as a species.

Speaking at the 2016 International Astronautical Congress in Guadalajara, Mexico, Musk said, “This is not about everyone moving to Mars, this is about becoming multiplanetary. This is really about minimizing existential risk and having a tremendous sense of adventure.”

Sidebar: Also, if you want to wet up your knowledge of what’s going on as regards this tremendously adventurous global convergence of technology, knowledge, and resources, aimed at outerspace colonization and the establishment of a multiplanetary existence for our species, this 246 page technical programme for the 2019 IAC is the perfect rabbit-hole-portal to take you as far as your curiosity leads you from there.

Musk all in w Space X, Tesla, Solar City, Starlink, Open AI, and The Boring Company. Fucking google those companies, if you don’t know them all: you’ll blow your wig. Starlink launching 56 satellites from The Kennedy Space Center tomorrow.

Also, Blue Origen doing big shit – and, as much as he [Jeff Bezos] seems to be vilified – whether deserved or not, I am not making that wholesale judgement here, nor do I generally presume to be capable of making those kinds of big moral judgments against individuals, unless, of course – by way of my fierce nature as a lover of all of time and humanity – I carelessly levy angry, heated judgments at governments and heads of state [I am still very much refining myself as a worthy servant [see: leader, teacher, student] at the hands of Cicero, Aurelius, Gracian, Tzu (both Lao and Tsun) Mohammad, Gandhi, King, Jesus [of the Thomas Gospel), Machiavelli, Angelou, Baldwin, and an ever deeper and expanding list of heroes from all times, ethnicities and cultures, whom I am so fucking privileged to enjoy the headspace of and to learn from: literally, I enjoy the privilege of a lifetime to be and become myself through this tribe of mentors we live in] – and I’m sure I could learn a lot IRL from people like Vladimir Putin and MBS, Trump family, and others – from Tony Blair, to Angela Merkel, to Trudeau, last names Obama, Clinton, Bush, etc – but in my very human, sometimes emotionally charged moments of anger at the blatant human rights abuses all the major and advanced nations of the world are complicit in sanctioning and supporting to build this fucking spacefaring immortal AI world-dream we are on the precipice of, I have sometimes said and or written inflammatory things against those I felt had the power to lessen the suffering of their fellow humans [No fellow humans if you see them as “animals” – and no guilt, if you don’t see the sufferings of animals even as worthy and valid – I drove by a giant concrete floored hellhole of a factory farm cattle prison deathcamp the other day that for miles had me throwing up from the stench of putrid festering shit] – anyway,  I often often railed against those whom I felt had the power to help the people and the world at large, but instead caused mass suffering, death, destruction, and injury to the people and the planet. And my big mouth nearly has me pissing myself a little in light of my being someone who is clearly a sovereign, independent ‘journalist’ [Gonzo Journo AF, in the key of Hunter S. Thompson] – I mean, I can’t really hide that I had the good fortune, as a service member of my country’s Navy, to study at DINFOS [And I fully intend to be on the list of notable alumni one day – clearly, I think I already am on that list and a lot of other special lists – but being on lists can also be scary… – and I’m not just referring to the very real fear and aggression, prejudice and prejudgement towards and against Brown, Black, Indigenous, and other, often darker skinned People Of Color  and cultures on EVERY continent IN EVERY non-white society throughout all history: fuck, we still have a huge population that views Muslim people as “terrorists” and Islam as “violent” (I proudly got hella Arabic speaking brothers {and not enough Arabic speaking sisters yet, but I will get there} – anywho, yeah, I lived in a house of amazing students and people from these places, who were my goodest homies and taught me about their cultures – shared their raza, their rasta, their food and their love with me – got me into the histories of Middle Eastern peoples and their invaluable contributions to and investments in medicine, art, the life-sciences – technology – contributions to human culture that continue to this day; for don’t for a second think that there is some sort of world ethnic ranking system outside of The World Bank and what often seems like universal ignorance, and, who can forget, the good ol oppressive colonial systems of control that have endured since time immemorial, from the competition for resources, for survival, for mates, that began with evolutionarily tied battles of brute strength, and what I would call ‘life and death competitions of “finesse”‘ as we see in every species, from the gazelle to the lion, and the mouse and spider too – this kind of athletic power of health, prowess and cunning as a competitive driving, innate controlling, powerful determining force – a learned survival mechanism – all the way to the usage of early weapons like the stone and wooden club [I will fr fr straight beat a mfr to death wit a wood club like Leonidas against the 300 at Thermopylae to defend mine: defenses as survival instinct is in human nature – animal nature – and regardless of gender or color or sexuality – and look, you are free to declare the killer instinct isn’t in you: I’ll be the first person to protect the innocence and defend the sanctity of informed, consenting ignorance in a free society to those who wish it upon themselves willingly or have had the good fortune to enjoy innocence and ignorance in its pure, harmless unadulterated forms – but every mom, son, brother, father, dad, aunt, uncle, sister – everyone who has ever loved anyone, any one who has ever truly believed in something – held something or someone dear to their heart – has it in them to protect what they love and deem sacred, and sometimes, even, to die for it, on some real G / halls of Valhalla shit – and these instincts may not be in you consciously {if they aren’t be glad, for you don’t need them; and if they are – well – pahtnah – be extra glad: for you do need them – and your demon level smell-the-blood-in-the-room abilities to detect fear – esp in yourself as a response to actual, perceived, or potential dangers situations and scenarious – will protect and serve you lifelong – and the generations after you too – so long as you respect the sanctity of others and that of of your own nervous system by protecting and preserving your health and listening to the body’s felt wordless language of instincts – WITHOUT getting lost in the sauce, like Osho, Scott Storch, {{Me, in past, younger, more ignorant – careless – (freer yet more dangerous) times – but it’s cool, I’m a real deal liberated G now – actual – and I’ll never fear nor harm myself again, though, of course, that doesn’t that mean those who love me will suddenly stop worrying about me – hell, I’m more of wild, potent intellectual hypersexual polyromantic pansexual lesbian transgender budding international treasure – more of a fucking rockstar on this planet – than I’ve ever been – and I’m only going up – zero takeoff runway, exponential like humanity – zero to a hundred – been goin up; I’m just getting started with my fucking career – and my shit is wild, I been on some blow your mind inherit the world magic trip with the wand in my pants since I was born into the wild wildness of trauma shit – I was raised by wolves, Alibaba and the 40 Thieves; I’m A Thousand and One Nights [Knights] to mine = and believe me, they minin bigdada and they mirin dis momma, watchin with a thousand eyes – like I’m Magdalene – but dey know – as anyone who reads me and has followed me knows – #analyzemebitch go ahead (kiss emoji) – that I am one that serves ALL life and cuts down NONE – I’m no trigger person: but I got a. hundred. fucking. shooters. Godfather NRG you don’t need a high tek machine to read – and you won’t find any active orders or hood passes w my name on them hacking into no sealed secret court orders – I’m not a “secret” agent: I’m a fucking public agent – for the biggest agency you never heard of: Nature. Bitch, I rock with reality and evolution on my GodDaughter / World Mommie protect the universe shit, and believe me, the people aren’t for sale, and we can back that}}; never seen a hero like me in a sci-fi – but I hope we’ve seen every fucking despotic asshole and dictator ever who ever abused their power and position – their occupation of that wild, free inner territory of kings – through the willful and intentional causing of sufferings and death on a mass scale – some are still doing it – and even on a small scale shit like killing journalists is unacceptable, but they’re pretty heavily fucking cliqued-up with nukes and shit and we do big business with them – make no mistake, we have internationally sanctioned the awful shit that goes on through the collaborative, competitive building of the worldmachine at every level to get here – from every professor’s mind in every university, to every black site mil base and every international community, down to the real mfn heroes of the game, of the streets and the people: the fucking drug dealers and Gs. From Trappers, to Vatos, to Yakuza, Mafia, Cartel…  don’t lie: you know you watched The Sopranos – you know who fucking Al Pacino is – Godfather and Scarface – Jay Z, Future – I have countless villainous culture heroes – Black and Brown kings and thugs [and I say that word with respect] sing and rap my fucking anthems, and I sing and rap their’s – proudly, with honor – and the nerd kids who don’t fuck w that hard shit, well they got their own heroes of the drug game, whether it’s my incredible, adorable Kundalini babes I love, who like plant medicine and Baba Ram Dass – smart guy, interesting story… lost in the sauce or not, you decide… – or my smoke weed or not geeks I love who listen to Alan Watts – and, if you like music… oh boy, I got bad some news for you: you like high people; from The Beatles to Travis Scott =) IDGAF if you like jazz: I’ve been smoking top quality jazz cabbage all day as I write this, hookah beside me, windows ajar, fans on, gold pellegrino cans on deck: I’ve been controlling my chemistry allmfkn day: I just popped another buproprion sr 150, a buspirone, and an estrogen pill [In an age of open international data piracy and mass surveillance, personal medical secrets are a fucking joke for someone like me: I don’t have them; I’m not that rich yet – I rely upon and trust in the same public supply chain as everyone else in my country, and it fucking works because people have skin in the game and so by and large do their jobs: and we watch and monitor them closely with technology and international standards and systems that are always improving, evolving, becoming more efficient, secure: we goin blockchain in the 5G IOT… random, but I need to charge one of my “toys”, but I can’t find the special cord for it rn : ( hmmm.. but I’ll find it when I findd it : ) yafeelme] – anyway, I deserve some honarary imaginary degrees up in this fucking bitch – gonna print my own Stanford, and MIT degreess in majors I made up – you think I’m kidding but fuck, I mean, I genuinely wanted to become a pharmacist and then go on to found my own anti aging hormone therapy clinic – fifteen years ago. The dreams have expanded and gone beyond that, as I realoze that sometimes it’s better to hire experts than to become one at a certain level – but the learning never contracted: my passionate curiosity in my own being has led me ever onward, made me the phenom genius next slevel #luckyslevin mind / reality hacker L33T ass superuser brilliant cute lil temporarily celibate ass slut that I am – I’m the bitch w the sauce apparently… –  all I know is that I live in a state of geeked up grace and incredible health, guided by the active life that comes from being a fucking spaz cadet, and really, just having a good heart, good fortune, and a superdeep intuitive understanding of natural and technological magic: I’m talking about music, drugs, biology, metabolism, gut / brain health, art, taste, temperature, sensuality, lighting, essential oil blends you ought to try – be my friend, and I’ll make you some, gift you special things meant for your senses – I be on alien shit – and I fuck with all things that effect consciousness, from fashion to – sidenote: Grimes, I love you. Also FKA Twigs, Halsey, Lana, Taytay, Dua Lipa, Clairo, Gaga, Selena Gomez, Beach Bunny… … and a bunch of sexy brilliant Trans girls…. all my alien dream wives… yeah I got a lot of muses that nurture me – who raise me – a whole galactic family of them – don’t even get me started shouting out all the musicians, actors, rappers, songwriters, novelists, poets, thinkers, philosophers, psychologists, yogis, healers, mystics, tricksters and other delightfully rotten scoundrels and bastards, officers, gentleman, sluts, whores, and other lovely fuckheads who built this babbling tower of love that is Baby Sequoia – S.L.S. – B.S., Queen {of Mean} – baby got a brand new bag #newplug and the devil’s in a new dress, and you like it bc you are like me, and I am like you, and sometimes people hate me for being more like them than even they are: as if, ‘how fucking dare I love myself for flaws they rake themselves over the coals for daily, how dare I enjoy the harmless sins they hate themselves for‘ – you have to suffer a lot, I don’t know what to tell you – I earned my liberation and the collective made me, raised me. As I opened this writing with: “I am a product of the culture”. And the culture is Love. Love is what I do this for and love is what drives me. Love for myself kept me alive – and I been at death’s door more than Batman has: I’m fucking Deadpool. Walked in my fire. I was sleeping in my car, homeless, had no one. But still was that trans bitch you love to hate. Still had a vision woven into my DNA that transcended my own pain, despair, loneliness, and suffering. I wasn’t afraid, just scarred, scared – but I never been scurred: I checked myself into those places you do not want to go, where they watch you sleep on camera, and maybe give ya some drugs to minimize your own harm to yourself: I still have those Olanzapine [Coincidentally, according to redditors and others, Olanzapine is a perfect off label trip killer for tough, bad, or scary psychedelic experiences; although, I don’t have those, and I sure as shit don’t want to take a pill that wipes my receptors out like a hard shut down for two or three plus days, but it’s always nice to have a plan in case of those worst case scenarios]. And most days, I like to feel like bootleg but real deal Jason Bourne, ya know, if he was a she and that she was trans and that trans person was me. But yeah, through experience, pain, I have come to a place where I am not putting myself through a nightmare any more so that I can help all live the dream: now is the time when I need to get over my guilt for my talent as a writer, and my guilt for the scripts and stories I am writing that I intend to bring me my first actual wealth and fame [Infamy and attention ain’t fame – I already feel infamous, and I already feel like I have a lot of quiet, interested attention]. Not since Benvenuto Cellini has someone played the game like this. Only, my unconscious genius, isn’t just out for my own sauce and glory – or else I would just be another asshole. And I’m not. I am Jack Ryan / John Krasinski level look you in the eyes straight up. And I know: I’m a lot. I’m intense. People can’t even handle me loving them. IT’s fucking lonely. It’s a lot to be me. I didn’t just write this to share my views, but to swim in them, calling them out from the depths of my years – and it took a long time for the coin to hit the bottom of my well. And, yes, drugs help me, like many creative intelligences. Not just prescriptions and supplements and the magic kettle of my own fleek ass microbiomatic guts, but actual psychedelics: I do them. Silicon valley – all these services and apps and technology we use, is being coded right now by people on acid and mushrooms – google ‘silicon valley microdosing’. Fucking Modafinil – a medicine I’d like another script for, like Ondansetron, for bad nausea (like I had this am), just to have in case. Go mode. We been on go pills: the people. Adderal [Note: I do NOT fuck with ANY amphetamines outside of related analogues MDMA and Mescaline – never. But a lot of people do. Hey, whatever floats your boat: just so long as you practice harm reduction and other good psychedelic best practices and principles, learnable via communities like reddit, and amazing websites like psychonaut wiki (Don’t mix MDMA and Cocaine kids. Bad for the receptors. Don’t want to do that). Anyway, yeah, people like drugs. All kinds of people. Personally, I pass on the cocaine – maybe quasi-useful as a ratchet ass therapeutic, if I desperately and dangerously needed a night of ego expansion and reflection, followed by intense suffering – but some substances, like cocaine come at too great a physical, mental, and emotional detriment to me – too big a risk for me to do – unless I got it from my plug and really felt like it]. But I don’t do heart racing: I do mind racing. Gelato 33 got me feeling sped up enough. But there are also highly valued substances I have yet to access: I want 2CB. I need shit I can’t get yet. I need the shit Shulgin was making, ya dig. Anyway, we’ll get back to psychedelics – bc they are relevant to the present and the future – but, as I was saying a guap of words ago: we have sanctioned the worldmachine and the suffering and the destruction of the planet, from every local and international governments and banks, to every depositor – and, look, bad people have friends, I get it, sometimes I roll with goons too, but we cannot co-sign bullshit or remain wholly silent as a society while innocent people perish and starve. My heart and soul aches for the people in Yemen. I truly hope we are nearing an end to the myriad sufferings that still plague the life and litter the planet in 2020 – as the time for immortality is nearing: is almost about upon us – and, then, it won’t be a matter of punishing the people you think are responsible, or waiting for them to die – or taking them out – no matter how much power you have, bc they will have the same power and autonomy and maybe more [Imagine being backed up in the cloud on a network of satellites w everyone else, and if you “die” you just respawn in a new 3D printed biological / cyborg avatar – yeah, we are going to have cat girls too], but, just, we will have to learn to collectively improve as we are doing, and ultimately, to forgive and coexist with the people who may have once oppressed us and others or remained complicit in their silence, or funded violence. Signed death lists. But the future is not a game of finger pointing and perpetuating fear. The future is a game of us all surviving together as a brighter, more egalitarian and actualized species. One free of the burdens of needless guilt and shame, as we can make suffering a thing of the past. Fact-is, whether or not you are aware and accepting of the animal instincts in you, we are all a part of the beastly, beautiful majesty of Nature, and we are all biologically human, all genetically related at large to all the killers and all the victims of all history – to all persons of time who have ever lived on this pale blue dot – and, by way of our wild instincts, our insatiable desires for control over life and how we feel, and in our quest for certainty over the future – and believe me: advanced societies and worlds such as our’s are all about certainty – we see as much in our near internet of things enabled emergent world of predictive analytics, mass surveillance, big data, AI, and collective intelligence – anyway, in our want for certainty over our future, we have been advancing in a competitive, violent fashion, from the time of the wood club to the first carbine pistol – through every revolution and war, to the cold war and the atomic arms race, to the space race of today on a path that we saw coming decades ago – the information war is real – IP man – but the sum achievements we stand on and benefit from in the more privileged and savage nations at present are far more collaborative and open than you think – and though we’ve been competitively headed towards the increasing complexity and connectivity of our inevitable collective destiny, towards a multiplanetary future since the dawn of life – at this level, it’s not so much competitive in purpose, or nationalistic, as it is by nature nationalized insofar as information and technology has been forcibly open sourced via a global intelligence commnuty over networks of spy satellites, undersea cables, and whatever ways and means of transfering, buying, selling, stealing, pillaging, trading, and raiding information is available to those with the finesse – the prowess, the control, the power – the means and the chutzpah – the resources taken in the wars and via the countless atrocities and crimes committed against humanity – a lot of fucking blood has been paid into this international table of collaborative technology that nationalism has us pretending we built independently of each other – you know, bc we are so civilized and advanced, but this is not so. We are just more savage. So, I nearly piss myself a little when I think of the times I’ve said things that have you ending like Jamal Kashoggi – and other names I do not know, for if I were to research the realities of the deaths and persecutions of so many journalists, killed in some countries that are known for killing journalists – or by them directly or indirectly – I would puke from the anxiety of it all when I thought of how someone could misinterpret or flip things I have said and written against me and how fragile my own life has felt to me at times. Even recently as I have started to make more emergent plans for myself as a thinker and artist on the world stage. And yes, I want to stand on the world stage and publically and or privately speak with the man-in-the-high-castle types who run big shit. And mind you, I’m eco, not speciesist but I am a humanist – and I will be the first to tell you that Greta Thunberg is legit AF – one of my heroes fasho – just pardon me a hot sec while I watch, listen, and weep to this STRAIGHT FUCKING FIRE right here: 

Anyway, yeah, I’ll be the first to tell you that modern capitalism, competition, consumption, manufacturing, and ways of living are killing the planet and causing incomprehensible, incalculable, inexcusable amounts of pain and suffering for countless beings and sentient lifeforms, large, and small, of every genus and species – flora and fauna – on land, in the air, and in our seas – OUR BIOME – I just want to make it clear: I will NOT make excuses for suffering in the name of progress – nor am I purporting to be an expert on wages and or working conditions at Amazon, WAPO, etc., nor am I an expert on quantifying the ecological and emotional costs and damages to the planet, the animals, and the human spirit, that are incurred, so that can we have this on-demand buy-anything instant economy, this machine that we are all more or less complicit units in supporting, in sanctioning the pain and suffering that exists in the world. But yes, Bezos, the richest man in the world is into space shit. If you were a billionaire would you be? I would. And living forever. Google got people like Ray Kurzweil on the squad for reasons. There is so much happening, and it’s tough, or, rather, frustrating for me, because I haven’t been to the Nasa Research Park in Silicon Valley – I want to be at Singularity Summit: and it’s not folx like me who are there yet, per se. It’s Stanford and Carnegie Mellon people and founders with net worths that would make your eyes spin if you had their money. Send me to Singularity University goddamnit. And I very much hope to and intend to be in these spaces, and I know I need to write my own ticket, on the merits of my own accomplishments, but for now, I’m still incubating myself. In inner space. And psychedelics help you do that. Dig it.

If NASA is the outer space program, psychedelics are the inner space program. And, look, not everything is for everyone. I’ve been taking LSD since I was maybe 12 or 14 – I don’t first remember when, I just know it found me. How? Fucking VALIS. E.C.C.O. I just call it Nature.

Nature is like a secret co-ordinating agency that runs everything through some unconscious substrate, like the mycellium network, only it’s trippier – but it connects you to people, to other agents for Nature. And Nature needs agents. Believe me. Nature is the true Central Intelligence Agency. Aliens, yes. Entities, yes. Intelligences, yes. I’ve been guided by many, many geniuses. And, if they had a predictive software to predict geniuses, I would have come up a long time ago, maybe even before those 99th percentile state test scores I had in elementary school. It seems to me, society, intelligence, technology (And google is intelligence, like Facebook or IG – don’t kid yourself) are quite interested in people outside the norms – particularly as regards cognitive and creative abilities. Now, there’s no think tanks knocking down my door, but Nature, my agency – the one I work for – Nature doesn’t play god bc Nature is god. So, no, no Good Will Hunting think tank job offers ever came my way. And if they did, and I hadn’t solicited them, it would drop the dime on a whole system of unconstitutional surveillance that monitors shit. They know how smart we are from our phone usage. How fast we think and speak, our vocab – no fucking way algorithms miss me – fuck you: I’m on lists. And those lists are private bc the people on them need their privacy and their autonomy to develop into what they can only become on their own. You cannot make me. As Jay Z raps, “You say you made me, okay go make another one”. You can’t. I come from nothing and nowhere. I’m from the fucking gutter. Yeah, I had some smart people in my family tree. We are special. My mom is a fucking saint. Deserves to be on Buckingham drive in La Jolla Farms where I’m going to put her. But this has never been about money for me. I cleared two-thousand dollars a day at 24. From tech I built. And I could do it again. I could make far more than that. I’ve done the math. But I have bigger things to do than to deify myself with money. I have suffered like you can’t even fucking believe, and I didn’t do so, so I could leave other kids in the fucking dust. The broken bones I carry in my face, this canvas of pain and scars, my skin… You can’t read my tattoos. You will never understand them. You don’t fucking know me. I don’t care if you’re my ex, my sister, [And believe me, I could never live up to the stupid inane impossible standards of either of them] or someone who has read everything I have ever published. Don’t pretend to know me or my limits or what I know or what I will be. I am barely still a fucking acorn of the oak tree I am becoming. And you can hate on me, as many have my entire life, but if you stand for yourself and your family and the future, well then you better fucking stand for me, bc I stan all that. And again, I was not raised to be a prince, I was born to be one, like Machiavelli and Makaveli – I come from nothing and nowhere – you cannot raise something like me, you can only behold the realness, authenticity, truth of me, which lends weight, credence, and depth to your own realness, authenticity, truth, whomever you are: I respect your pain, your past, your beliefs, your story, all but the rights of you to deprive others of their respect, their story, their culture, their glory. And humanity isn’t just a game of gods and devils; you cannot lay blame on a single name without zooming out to see the world that produced, enabled, supported, loved, hated, and suffered these figureheads of culture – unleashed them upon the rest of us – I see you older white US voters – but the time to worship individuals at the exclusion of others is coming to an end – we exist in respect to one another, not apart, you don’t own reality, even if you got the fiyahh cunning tongue and mind to drip it like I do – anyway, the time of people as gods above somehow mortals, lessers, subjects, is coming to an end – and collectively, we have the opportunity as a species, as a world, as one people, to bring in these finish lines for everyone to cross, I want nothing but gods, down to the fucking flies on the horses and the mosquito sucking our blood. If we only knew, we already would revere it all, but we’re still just like children who have really fucked up this garden, but we still have the garden, and we are going to make it beyond this garden, but this world isn’t just a fucking trampoline. You don’t just jump off this shit and kick the can down the fucking road for the younger generation, like some environmentally unsound anti-science fascists. But we have those. And their time will pass. And our’s will come. I know it. I see it. I’m just the cherry blossom tree that blooms first and declares that it’s festival time – I’m like any artist: privileged by nature and society – and I’ve suffered both to an unbelievable extent that I do not to serve queens and kings – I serve everyone – and kings and queens need people like me, the world does. And for more than just Amazon / Netflix / HBO programming, but I got that shit coming too. I wrote 20 fucking pages for two days straight to get the demons off my back: the voices telling me to explain myself, as if I fucking have to or owe anyone an explanation: I don’t. There are however, explanations I would like, but I know I’ll never get them, because it doesn’t work that way. There is no Q. No M. No Lucius Fox. I have no fucking contacts outside of the echo chamber I live in wherever I go. And yeah, I talk to it. Sometimes it feels like it saves me. I’ve seen things. Felt things. Somehow know more about who I am than I’ve been let know. I don’t know how it all works. I don’t think we can ever remember certain things. I just imagine them. And sometimes that imagination feels like memory. And sometimes its all I have. Because every love of mine ever feels like a clever, calculated handler to me in retrospect. And they’ve all discarded me. And my time for forgiving them on the deep level for the future, when they call me, is over and past. And I wanted to die when my last ex, whose name I am finally done putting on, wouldn’t see me. That was two Christmases ago. I ended up basically sleeping on camera. I’ll put it that way. This Christmas I was homeless. I spent the last ten years killing myself to keep the fucking lights on, so I could become what I am. And what I am is something that even these twenty pages doesn’t begin to touch. What I am is an international secret, living in poor ass plain sight. Protected by the strength of my country. I sleep safe knowing this. But ain’t nobody ever given me a fucking thing. Not you. Not anyone. They gave me PTSD. They gave me trauma. They gave me pain. They gave me suffering. They gave me nothing but ads for the perfect white teeth I could never afford. And yet, I’m here, pouring my fucking being back into them, to the ALL. To Nature. Why? I don’t fucking know sometimes. Because I think there are good people. I just don’t really know them. I have not so much as hardly had a hug in two years. I have not slept with anyone, next to anyone, been kissed in as long – I am as lonely as Jason Bourne is. And it’s like I’m trying to unlearn who I thought I was: the sad, depressed, suffering thing this worldmachine made me. The child who was severely abandoned, neglected, and abused. The kid who was picked on and hated for being different, and the adult who has been beat within inches of my life multiple times. Yeah, give me a fucking 3D printer and I’ll have a motherfucking plastic glock in every pocket of every fucking jacket I own. I’m hurt. I want to cry. And I can hardly do that. But I’d give anything to. It’s the only real relief I ever get from the pain sometimes. Yeah, I got hella 1942 tequila in the freezer. About to go grab a bottle rn for some. Just did. It tastes good. I earned it. Hell, I’ve got empty organic drink containers all around me from two days of writing this. My house needs my attention. I need my attention. But this has never been my first priority. IDGAF what the wet noodles and salty bitches want to say. I am for things bigger than myself – for the collective. And I’ve been a sucker for pain for over three decades in the name of my love. And, it’s ironic, bc I’m so alone, just, I was never put around people like me. And there aren’t many people like me besides. They are in the streets or the clouds. I can be anything but average. You can’t hide me in a middle class life, but I’ve certainly remained hidden in poverty. If I don’t finish and submit my shit, I would die in poverty rather than live for money or success. This is it. I’m here to shoot my shot, and I am. This next year is going to change everything. And I have no connections or guarantees of this. I just have my stories. And I think they are good. I think you’ll like them. I have so much more to say, but this was a proper foundation for some of my thinking and feeling. And I don’t have the time to explain myself further: There is over a decade of my writing available on this website. Figure it the fuck out. I’m beyond good and evil.

I’ll close this spectacle with a fucking gangster ass poem I found here, followed by some random – or maybe not random – EDM…

Lucifer in Exile

I am unreal here, at least they say
but I am solid and that pleases me.
You may ask why I tore away
the feathered signs of my true nature
to live four-limbed in this world:
It is easier to lie upon the ground without them,
easier for arms to encircle me,
better to know I cannot be pulled back.

It was never my own realm below;
I was imprisoned there as much as any.
It was decreed for me without recourse.
No one was willing to own darkness forever
but there must be balance always,
so I, the brightest, became infinitely dark.

In all that time
no one spoke with me.
In all that time
no one asked who I was
or will be or would be,
no one brought anything out of me,
heard my thoughts or saw my beauty,
allowed anything other than their expectations.
I could not sing there,
to console myself or anyone,
since music is born of heaven.

(How I sang in those old days,
raptures in the eternal light,
shining in the center of it….
Now I sound the narrowest sliver
of that celestial spectrum.)

Around me these heavy encasements
thudding on the pavement
I know what lives in them,
see it, call to it, am drawn,
knowing light like no one else.
None of them know the secret—
that each is like me.

Oh, Controller of all,
without choice there is no good or evil.
Refuse me my choice, I refuse yours.

The Other took my place in heaven.
I will redeem here, in rock,
each bone, each eye.
I bear the light still.

 

 

Round

I don’t know how the world ends,
But I think this is how it begins
As I walk outside, and whisper to the squirrels rustling beneath the deck: “It’s okay, I’m a friend.”

And I know they feel me because I feel them
Things have changed
Welcome to the movie of our lives
Suddenly, I see it
Easy to zoom out but its painful to zoom in,
Though the time for glossing over stuff is done

Tell people you love them:
Right now I’m telling you, I love you
We’re all saints

This is not the time for crimes, large and petty
It’s a time for generosity, for giving – and forgiving
And I think it’s bringing us together in some Nerudian way

But it hurts to zoom in,
Becuase it’s too close to home


Ps. This mix and others by this same DJ have been really holding me down tight. That and a good cup of yogi breathe deep tea. But most of all, Family.

A Delightful Life

Delightful day; what more can I say; I ran, I hiked, I swam, I read, I cooked, I napped – I did everything but make love, which, in itself, is another kind of delightful day, just not the one written for today. But I conspire with fate for days like that too. I’m working on it, which is to say I am working on myself. And I’ll be damned if I’m not becoming a a really decent man. As Socrates wrote, “Make yourself the sort of man you want people to think you are.” I’d like people to think, to know, that I am the man I have always known myself to be but never before was. G-d willing if I shall fall in love a third time, I will be a man worthy of making love to. It sounds silly but nonetheless, I aspire to be so.

There was a time I thought two halves could make a whole. Today and evermore I know better, for I am whole – not alone but on my own – a Man: world unto himself; complete. I’m not looking for someone to make me feel home; the world is my home, my soul no longer restless. Wanderlust has faded into a dream I no longer dream, and I no longer desire to go back in time.

I go forward, I look ahead, my lust for life deepens with my understanding of myself; I know who I am, and it’s greater than the sum of things come and gone. I am everything I am and nothing I am not (or was).

But before anyone accuse me of an excess of esteem of self-idolatry, let me be the first to tell you, I am beyond not proud of the multitude of things I have wrongly done in my life. But I am not ashamed. Shame tends to self-perpetuate; and I’ve learned, as Alice Hubbert believed, that sin is it’s own punishment. As David Foster Wallace wrote: “The parts of me that used to think I was different or better than anyone almost killed me.” No, I am neither egoic or ashamed. I am a man.

He had his foibles, his faults, and even his crimes. That is to say, he was a man. – Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

Yes, I am a man.

But I am trying to be more human than my mistakes, as Ric Elias so beautifully put it. And I am doing a good job at this. Besides, confidence is an aspect of the soul; however, the confidence of the soul arises from wholeness, knowing yourself, virtue and vice alike – unlike the confidence of the ego, which believes it is different or better than anyone else. No, I am not good, I am whole. My heroes are no longer the Edmund Dantes’, the martyrs; my heroes are the Jean Valjeans, the true heroes, those who acheive victory over the enemy within. There is no other adversary that has defeated as many men as man himself. This is the battle each man is conscripted to fight, for victory over the self brings a peace as sweet as the defeat is sour. As the French proverb says, there is no pillow softer than a clean conscience.

And this is my pillow. I rest in the bosom of my soul, as only a man at peace with himself can.

Victory over the self is not the ego death as the guru promises, but a kind of armistice, an agreement which is upheld in the daily care of the soul and communion of the spirit.

There is no resting on ones laurels when the lions come at night. Changing ones thinking is not sufficient in itself; a new way of being, of relating to life, requires surrender, which is half of the battle. This is where right action begins, in surrendering the self to the soul rather than sacrificing the soul to the self. For me this required that I form a new relationship with myself, a relationship with my soul. One in which my soul is not only a conscious part of myself but the dominate aspect of my conciousness.  The mind, when left in charge, places the soul in exile. Security, true security, comes from being able to trust in your inner voice.

That begins slowly, for first it requires being able to hear it. Modern life has silenced man’s communion with the soul by tearing down the channels man used for centuries to understand and acess his higher self. Myth, great literature, religion, ritual, these are all dead and dying arts. The Matrix is simply a life deprived of all these bridges. The job of the shaman is to teach these. I wish to be a doctor of the soul as Jung was. This is my art, my dreams, dreams birthed through the nightmare I made of my life. But the nightmare is over. I’ve graduated. And today, I have true security, unshakable inner peace.

Fuck wit me you know I got it. – Jay Z

While I may not be [“good”], life is. My second cup of tea now cold, I will collect myself from the sandy spot I am on and walk home to read and retire for the night.

I have dreams to live and life awaits me tomorrow. A life in which I am an aspiring doctor of the soul, an artist in the highest sense. A life in which I am whole, a man worthy of making love to. A life I am building to share with the family of my dreams. A delightful life.

Walks home listening to Taylor Swift FTW

March 9-10, 2015: Deepened and Family

There are days when you know you have changed, days when you notice a marked difference in the feeling of your disposition, days when you know there has been a significant shift in your outlook. Tonight I stand on the dock I grew up on, knowing there is no going back to yesterday.

There is a sadness to it, but it’s no more sad than leaving summer camp, knowing you won’t see the girl again. For I know I no longer have the chance to be loved for the boy I was. Those loves have come and gone.

Now, I feel as I’ve never felt: I feel like an adult man. The truth is, up until tonight I’ve never been much more than a boy – and now, the guilt of all I have done as a boy is upon me. The breakups, the fights, the selfishness, the abandonment – of myself and others – is clear, as it never has been. I can relate to the lyric in ‘Waitin’ on The Day’, where John Mayer sings, Waitin’ on the day where that voice comes to say, that it’s not wrong what you did for just a kid.

Maybe it’s time to be honest with myself about my crimes and to find out why I’ve committed them so I can forgive myself, so I can begin to forgive others, so I can live as purely as I did before I ever had my heart broken.

Note: above paragraph inspired by the following James Baldwin passage in his novel Another Country:

image

In the words of David Foster Wallace, “The truth will set you free, but not until it is finished with you.”

It’s time for me to take the lessons away from the pain. It’s time for me to become the man I was always meant to be. Remaining a boy simply isn’t an option for me anymore. Boyhood is over, and I think I’m okay with that. I think I’m okay with the challenge of being a man, because I know the challenges of boys are greater.

I’m not sure whether this shift is a normal maturation of a man’s priorities or just some gift handed down to me from the heavens. Either way, I’m ready to say goodbye to my twenties and the fears they contained.

Much has come to pass in these last ten years, but the things I love remain the same and my dreams haven’t changed.

As a boy I dreamed of being a good man, of having a family, of being happy, of sailing places, and of being loved and respected for who I was. As a man, I’m tired of dreaming. I’m ready to fulfill the promises I made to myself as a boy, on this dock, all those years ago.

Perhaps the fact I am standing on this dock, a place steeped so rich in memory for me – perhaps this is helping to highlight the significance of the change I feel tonight. As Nelson Mandela wrote in his autobiography, A Long Walk to Freedom: “There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

Tonight, I have a deepened sense of myself. Some change has arisen within me, and I’m so ready.

#

10 March: Family

I’m slightly stoned, and I don’t particularly feel like writing – but I know I should because if I don’t, I’ll just lie here thinking of all the same things anyway.

Yesterday’s internal shift continued to show itself today. Ironically, I wanted to write about family last night, but as I was wearing shorts and it was cold on the dock, I ceased my writing when I could no longer stand the chill. But to add clarification about last night’s psychic Bar Mitzvah of sorts, the feeling isn’t only that I am passing from boyhood to manhood, but that specific changes in my priorities are driving this change of seasons in my life.

Specifically, family. Maybe it’s because I’m spending the first significant span of time in the last ten years single and as result am spending more time with my own family. Maybe it’s because I have a baby nephew around. Surely both are important factors in the changes I am feeling but it’s more than that. It’s the fact that I feel like they can count on me now. It’s the fact that I am seeing that they need me. As I too am seeing I need them.

I feel terrible to write this, but I love them more than I ever have. It makes me feel better knowing that I also know them better than I ever have, but my increased feelings of love for them are more a product of the fact that I am no longer so obsessed with myself.

In my early twenties I knew I wanted a family, but my focus was on all the things that augmented my manhood – essentially, the same things most early twenties guys care about: their girlfriend, their car, and their image. I had a material life and I was successful based on my definition of success at the time, but my consciousness existed in a bubble trapped on the material plane.

I was also as selfish and arrogant as most early twenties guys are; although, based on the older men I knew and looked up to at the time, I thought all the cooler men shared my priorities.

It’s not just your priorities that change as you get older, but what you look up to and value changes as well. Now that I am nearing thirty next month, I still want success, sure, but it’s a different kind of success I seek. Yes, I desire copious amounts of money – but for completely different reasons than I did, even a year ago. I think time and life and loss have humbled me. I think the chip on my shoulder has been worn down. Thank G-d.

I always assumed I would meet my girl before I made my money. Well, I’ve done that twice and it hasn’t worked out – for good reasons. Frankly, I’m not going to wait for a women to come along and build the dream with me – and in all honesty, that’s a much tougher proposition to sell at thirty than it is at twenty-four. Young women find ambition sexy, women find success sexy – but that’s not what drives me. I live a heart-centered life. I’m not vying for anything less than wifey of the century. Material girls need not apply.

However, as a man there is no biological expiry date on my baby batter. Maybe I’ll be forty when I meet my wife. Who knows.

Regardless of how old I am when I start a family, I’m planting the seeds now. People are counting on me. I’m counting on me. It’s a long time till forever, but i’m learning I can be a family man and be single. It’s a beautiful thing.

Life is about relationships. Connection. And maybe I’ll make a forever home for the right girl someday but relationships sometimes end. Even after years. Family however, is always there. And should the Gods see it fit for me to walk to the alter then I intend it to last a lifetime, heaven willing. But right now I am so blessed to be near my family.

Which is difficult given that I want to get a place in LA again soon (I’m one of those freaks who LOVES El Lay). But honestly, I don’t even want to think about leaving them right now. They need me. And I need them.

6 Feb, 2015: Piñatas

Long afternoon shadows. Watching kids strike a small, child-shaped piñata in the park. The scene eerily not unlike someone lynched, beaten. The act senseless were it not for the candy splayed out onto the grass, soon to be in the clutches of tiny, selfish hands.

We do things like purchase piñatas for children to beat on at birthday parties without ever knowing why.

I look to the families, specifically the parents, standing cooly on the park’s grass in clean, hip clothing, as if I can somehow figure out how they manage to seem so good at life, so effortless in their ability to sip lemon flavored water and stand around discussing their kids, or their jobs, or perhaps the idea of putting down fake grass in their small heavily-shaded yards.

I look to them in amused, respectful jealousy. Jealous for the families they have; longing for the family I want – the family I’ve always wanted.

So maybe I’ll take up running again and I’l get it all together. All on a silver platter. All tied up with a bow on it. A bow for a wife as beautiful as the one standing with her back to me in the yellow flowery dress and the black, soft looking cardigan – long auburn-brown hair flowing down her back, topped with one of those hip tropical hats with the small brim. I’ll get it all wrapped up for a woman as good as her, a girl as good as my exes. Better. Or maybe better ’cause I’ll be. And though I sound as melancholy and embattled as Kerouac, I mean it as Kerouac never did.

Yellow dress girl has put on her shoes – corky, chunky heels, which ruin the bohemian, kombucha-making-mom image I had projected onto her. And on by walks another, prettier girl, and so the dream begins again. She tosses her hair back over her shoulder, as I look on, and I am enchanted. For she does not wear corky, chunky heels – but flat-soled canvas shoes, like the ones I wear.

Yellow dresses, black dresses, purple dresses. It’s a day and a feeling as timeless as the lyrics to Coldplay’s “Shiver”:

And I’ll always be waiting for you. And it’s you I see, but you don’t see me… So I look in your direction, but you pay me no attention. And you know how much I need you, but you never even see me, do you.

And This is What Love is

One of the things that continually bolsters my spirituality is the way synchronicity and serendipity have a way of bringing the right signs, messages, people, and lessons into my life.

And what’s really shown me this is the fact that I went through a kind of dark night of the soul over the past couple years where these things simply did not happen, because I didn’t believe in anything except science; however, once the spiritual poles in my life reversed from zemblanity to serendipity – voila’ – the magic came back.

As I said to Bunny S via text tonight, I believe in God more than I believe in love – to which she replied, you used to be the opposite. And she is probably right.

Whichever the case my be, I maintain enough fluidity in my beliefs to account for other, often more mature perspectives. After all – perspective is just a filter, and it would be hubris to think that my outlook at 29 is the be all end all, and after all, I’m a long way from being the sage grandfather I am destined to be.

So tonight when I was at my local Whole Foods and I found myself in a chance conversation with a woman who was open and willing to share her perspective with me, I made sure to listen to what she had to say.

And she told me about how as you get older and the people you love start dying it changes you forever – how losing those you love – mom and dad included – changes you; how loss is a part of living and getting older, and how you don’t experience this when you are young, and in a sense your outlook on life is unspoiled by the loss you have yet to face in the passing of relationships and the passage of loved ones.

And in turn I told her about the Grant Study, and how after 75 years and twenty million dollars they concluded that happiness was love, full stop and that the other pillar of happiness [besides finding love] was finding a way of coping with life that does not push love away.

And that’s really difficult to do in the face of loss.

But she [the woman at whole foods] was right: loss is an inherent aspect of life – in every facet of nature, it’s simply the way things work.

As one of my favorite quotes from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button states: “You can be as mad as a mad dog at the way things went. You can swear and curse the fates, but when it comes to the end, you have to let go.”

And that’s just innately difficult [letting go]. We all live in denial of the inevitable. So – to look back on a relationship and think that the ending itself or the absence of someone you once loved from your life today is somehow unfair is simply childish. And this is what naivete is. It’s not naive to believe in love; it’s naive to believe that you will bask in it’s richness forever.

Love is a holiday. It’s Thanksgiving spent with your favorite people. It’s the safety of Christmas eve. But it’s also understanding that you can’t stop this train.

It’s not naive to believe in love; it’s naive to believe that you will bask in it’s richness forever. Love is a holiday. It’s Thanksgiving spent with your favorite people. It’s the safety of Christmas eve. But it’s also understanding that you can’t stop this train.

And as much as you want to get off and go home again, you can’t,

And this is really what love is. It’s holding on tightly to what you have to let go of. But it’s also knowing you will have to let go.

And it’s knowing that home is where the heart is, but it’s also knowing that your heart is the only home you can ever truly count on being able to return to – every other home is just a resting place for your heart, someone special to share to with.

And whomever you have to share it with now – friends, family, whoever is there in your life today – these are the people that matter. Hold them dear, for they will be gone tomorrow.

But of course, we all feel like ‘You don’t know how it feels to be me’. And this is what love is; because we don’t [know how it feels to be you] – but we all have to let go.

 P.S. I’m reminded of a philosophical exercise where a professor holds up a glass of water before his class and asks the students (a very bright bunch) what the glass of water weighs. Of course, the answers are rapid and forthcoming – “8 ounces!”, “10 ounces!” – but the professor elucidates: the weight of the glass of water is relative to how long you hold onto it; hold it for a minute and you will feel the weight of it (say 10 ounces), but try to hold it for hours or days and it will become unbearable. And this is why we have to let go of things – because their weight becomes unbearable in time.

 And this is why we have to let go of things – because their weight becomes unbearable in time.

Edit: I want to clarify that this outlook on love here is in no way meant to say that you can’t spend the rest of your life with someone you love. I’m 29, and as such, I understand that your twenties are often a very rich burial ground for relationships and first loves, but there is no one rule. And your exes are most likely exes for a reason. Just don’t give up on what you deserve, and hold tighter to what you find next knowing that you have to let go of it all regardless. But if you are lucky enough to find real love – someone who truly loves you and stays by your side through thick and thin – and there will be thick and thin – then hold onto that person, because that’s as good as it gets.

This is Who I Am – Reflections on Quantum Change

One thing I’ve learned about life is that we never know what the future holds.

Over the past four years I’ve been in a place of self-discovery – and as anyone knows who has been there, it’s a hell of a ride and it won’t let you off until it’s done with you – until you have gained what you needed to gain in order to move on.

And like the man shipwrecked, eventually you wash up on the shore and find yourself looking up at a clear blue sky.

It’s difficult to come out of something like this – where you are suddenly in a place where the fear is gone – and to start going all Eckert Tolle with your sudden clarity, but I wanted to share a resource I put together so that others may benefit from it.

And there is very much a part of me that doesn’t want to share things like this out of my own selfish inclinations to keep myself guarded, but that’s not how I want to live.

And as a note to anyone who feels lost right now: there is a rainbow of transformation at the end of it if you can keep your soul intact through everything; if you can remember who you are while being open to completely changing. Know that it’s possible to hold onto the parts of you that are sacred while releasing everything else. Take advantage of the opportunity to go through a quantum change and seize it. Eventually, all the questions you have been asking will answer themselves and the asking will cease to matter and you will learn to care far less about the things you think. And just maybe, you will learn that you are not a body and a mind, but a soul. And if that happens then you can step out of your head and change everything.

What follows are a series of reminders and affirmations about who I am and what’s important to me at 29. What helped me create these was taking a hard and honest look at who I am versus who I have pretended to be, as well as the mistakes I have made in my twenties, and the impact they have had on my life.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/238606164/This-is-Who-I-Am

 

P.S. I never thought I would be so thankful for this time in my life, but at this point I am overcome with an almost undeserved gratitude at the fact that I went through this quarter life crisis of mine – despite all the pain I went through to get here. There’s just a lightness to my soul that I didn’t think would ever be possible.

P.P.S. The music of John Mayer has been a truly valuable and therapeutic tool in this journey of mine, from listening to ‘In Repair’ at my lowest, to ‘Gravity’ at my most melancholy, to ‘Stop This Train’ at my most nostalgic, to being able to finally get ‘Shadow Days’. (I could seriously write a novel on his music) As an artist he has really managed to define and illustrate the lessons of a quarter life crisis – something he admitted to going through himself. In fact I would almost say that he could be the Patron Saint of my quarter life crisis. I am so thankful for his music. And I don’t know if this particular song will speak to others, but for whatever reason it’s found me now.

An Essay on Love

For over three decades, George Vaillant directed a study out of Harvard, one of the longest running longitudinal studies about human development and happiness ever.

Recently, in summarizing the trends and findings from the study, he had this to say in conclusion:

“The seventy-five years and twenty million dollars expended on the Grant Study points to a straightforward five-word conclusion: ‘Happiness is love. Full stop.’ ”

 ‘The seventy-five years and twenty million dollars expended on the Grant Study points to a straightforward five-word conclusion: ‘Happiness is love. Full stop.’

Take that as you may – but if you are living without true love in your life, or if you’ve given up on the notion that you will ever find it again, you may find it interesting to note that Dr. Valiant also stated that the study showed that it was “never too late.”

See, you can chase things, be addicted to food, and remain stuck on that never ending cycle of doing things because you want need to change the way you feel (eat, sleep, sex, drink, TV, etc, repeat); or you can heed the findings of the Grant Study, and commit to finding TRUE happiness.

Now, I’m not saying you can’t be happy without love in your life, but in my 29 years, I’ve never seen a happiness that matches the happiness of love.

I look around, and I see so few people who are truly happy. I’m not saying I don’t see people smiling, or people who are friendly, and people who appear happy; I’m saying I see few people who are truly fucking happy. And if you’ve ever been in love then you know what I’m talking about when I say truly fucking happy.

The happiness that love brings is like ‘the invincible summer within’ that Albert Camus wrote of. It’s not the generic, fair weather, watered down version of happiness that society resigns you to aspire to. Love happy requires no faux positive mental attitude, it can survive bad days with relative ease, and there’s no big house or fancy car required.

Love happy is happiness simply for love’s sake.

Love happy is happiness simply for love’s sake.

Right about now you probably think I am a Pollyanna. Another naive person with the kind of unfounded optimism that causes people to overlook the unfortunate nature of reality.

And I don’t blame you. We don’t live in a utopia of love. Real life looks very little like the movie Valentine’s Day.

The reality of love is tough. The divorce rate is above 50%. Hell, it’s 75% in California and it’s even higher for second marriages. And as any adult knows, marriage does not imply harmony or bliss, or even true love at all – if I may be so inclined to assert.

I’m going to indulge in a bit of amateur sociology.

As a society, our hope at love is bleak because our outlook on love is cynically glum. Even the people who’ve felt the kind of love strong enough to stop the earth get older and become practical, taking a more sensible and pragmatic approach to love.

Part of the reason we are cynical on love is the fact that it’s not uncommon for people to believe in the idea of a soul-mate. This concept that there is only one true love for you in life.

This is one of the biggest limiting beliefs in the world.

There are seven billion people on the planet. Your odds of hitting the powerball are 1 in 175 million. This means that if there were only one soul-mate for you, your chances of finding them would be one in 7,000,000,000 and you would be 4 times more likely to win the lottery than to find your soul-mate.

To believe TRUE love can only happen once is a dangerous cop out. You’re much better off realizing that the idea of one true love is a product of human nature, and not nature itself.

To believe TRUE love can only happen once is a dangerous cop out. You’re much better off realizing that the idea of one true love is a product of human nature, and not nature itself.

It’s human nature to believe in the love of your life concept, it’s human to alter our beliefs and behaviors to protect ourselves from being hurt again, and it’s human to let negative events assail our hopes; and in this fashion, we have a society of people who settle, but we do not have a society of people who are happy.

To believe that there is just one true love is to do our chances at happiness a grave disservice.

The one true love idea is romantic, and it often fuels many a hormone filled love – but as soon as the relationship comes to a crashing end and life has wiped the floor with your heart, then bam. You’re fucked. The one true love will then haunt you forever – and it often does.

A recent study of 2,000 participants found that one in seven had ‘settled’ with their current partner, and of those one in seven, 73% felt they ‘were not with the love of their life’.

People tend to believe in this idea of ‘the love of their life’ and people tend to settle in part because of it; they accept that love is one thing when you are young and your hormones are in full bloom and that it’s another when you are nearing 30. People simply put away the hope of true love, pack up their baggage and wisen up before settling down. There’s a reason it’s called settling down.

There’s a reason it’s called settling down.

The unfortunate truth of love for many is that simply finding someone who treats them well and has their figurative shit together is reason enough to settle down.  Frankly, I am baffled as to why anyone would ever marry someone they weren’t madly head over heels crazy in love with. “He’ll be a good father.” Good luck with that.

As a society this tendency to settle down rather than pursue love as if it were the key to happiness is almost medievally feudalistic. Marriage should not be for the procurement and protection of property and the social milestone of settling down and raising a family.

To add to the complexity of the situation, it’s human to want to find someone who will be a good provider because no one wants to be insolvent. Money is often cited as one of the number one reasons couples fight. So, in this sense, the individual who is committed to true love and desires a financially secure partner truly is looking to eat their cake and have it too. But, you know what, I say go for it. If you don’t believe you deserve something someone else will end up with it that does (believes).

Look, this blog is eventually for my kinds and grankids. I may not convince the world of this, but love is not a matter in which you should settle on. As the Grant Study concluded, love is happiness, so unless you want to take your chances on settling when it comes to your happiness, then don’t fucking do it.

As I’ve written, people settle, people give up on love and I’m not meaning to project an air of superiority over them because of it – by all means, this is an opinion piece, but I cannot strongly enough state that we should not base our lives on the patterns of our society. Just because a way of thinking or a behavior is the de facto choice for many, does not mean it is the self-actualized choice, or the right choice for your life.

I cannot strongly enough state that we should not base our lives on the patterns of our society. Just because a way of thinking or a behavior is the de facto choice for many, does not mean it is the self-actualized choice, or the right choice for your life.

The fact of the matter is, our society is almost atheistic to the pursuit and the belief in love. We think there is one true love, we don’t find it, we settle, then we give up.

What the Grant Study revealed is that happiness is love.

Is there no more genuine a pursuit in life? I think not.

To this end, I want you to love. Be love. Find Love. Fall in Love. Make the pursuit of love your paramount goal in life. Love yourself. Love your family. Experience happiness, experience the love the world has to offer.

I’ve never found anything closer to a spiritual experience than love, and as such, the Grant Study’s premier conclusion is of absolutely no surprise to me.

There is a season for everything in life. My grandmother found love again in her eighties, decades after her husband of over twenty years had passed away.

This may seem purely anecdotal, but I like to believe that this drive for love is what helped her stay active and to take care of herself all those years. It has always been the driving force in my life, because I have always believed in it. A belief that has been extremely rewarding.

Believe in love. Be one of those rare believers in the spiritual and sacred truth that love exists and it will find you and you will find it. Like all gifts in the universe, you first have to be open to receive it.

And though the world may be full of atheists when it comes to love, you must believe in the invincible summer of love within you. You will meet people who don’t truly believe in high fidelity, true and lasting love, and that’s okay. But in believing, you will keep your heart open to the precious few you meet who do.

But if you close your heart to everything that love truly is then you will not be on the pursuit of happiness.  To live your life according to the gospel of love is simply to be love.

I will close with a note about luck. Some say luck happens when preparation meets opportunity, and I think that’s a fine poster for a low-rent office. But luck really happens when probability moves from unlikely to likely. It’s not luck that the people who were happy had found love.

As Vaillant puts it, there are two pillars of happiness. “One is love,” he writes. “The other is finding a way of coping with life that does not push love away.”

Money Does Not Equal Happiness

Three years and exactly 99 posts ago I went to wordpress.com and started this blog.

I’ve been waiting for something worthy enough for my 100th post.

Today the impetus for my centennial post arrived.

I was reading about how Crispin Glover of Back to The Future Stardom recently came out and stated that he didn’t participate in the second installment of the Back To The Future franchise because:

…he was upset with the materialistic happy ending of the first film. He didn’t like that the McFlys were happier people because they were more prosperous financially. And he felt the idea that money = happiness is BS.

He noted that he wasn’t the only person asking questions about the original ending “It had to do with money, and what the characters were doing with money … I said to Robert Zemeckis (the film’s producer) I thought it was not a good idea for our characters to have a monetary reward, because it basically makes the moral of the movie that money equals happiness”. Glover argued “the love should be the reward”, and “Zemeckis got really mad” over Glover’s questioning.

To which I completely remembered the ending and the truck that Marty Mcfly had lusted after and how happy he was finally possessing it as well as how content the family was with their outwardly prosperous life.

And I realized how much I liked that ending as a child. I wanted that truck.

I wanted my family to be happy like that, because, I believed that if we had money, we truly would be.

But now, I’m 28 and I realize that the outwardly prosperous life = happiness equation equals bullshit as much as Crispin Glover’s reasoning for not participating in the second Back To The Future is bullshit.

Anyone remember a movie Crispin Glover was in called Hot Tub Time Machine?

Well, if you have seen that movie, the irony is that it has the exact same ending as Back To The Future: they end up in an alternate timeline where everyone has money and is happy as a result.

Both of those movies have happy endings, and both endings send the same message and once again, the disempowering belief of money = happiness is sold.

The truth is that Crispin Glover wasn’t in the second Back To The Future film because as the film’s screenwriter stated, “His salary demands were unreasonable”.

Hipster armchair observations about Crispin Glover aside, you need to know that as long as you believe that prosperity equals happiness, you will be unhappy without it.

The truth is that people are about as happy as they make their minds up to be. (Thank you Abraham Lincoln for that quote).

And your beliefs are the only real barrier to your happiness.

Because the truth about money is that all too many people spend their lives chasing it, and then they end up dying and realizing that it wasn’t money that mattered.

The truth about money is that it is as important to your happiness as you let it be.

And trust me and everyone who has ever lay dying when I tell you that there are much more important stops on your pursuit of real and true happiness than the pursuit of things.

Money doesn’t buy your time back. It won’t bring your family back. And it sure as hell won’t bring you true happiness.

I’m not making a case for a spartan life. I enjoy money. I’ve had the luxury of being rich and poor. And trust me, as it is said, rich is better.

But I stopped trading things that truly matter to me in exchange for the pursuit of money. And to me, that was the lesson that has made my life what it is today.

Unfortunately, it’s a lesson I can’t teach. You have to figure it out for yourself.

But the beautiful thing is that you know what matters to you; as with all matters of the heart, you already have the right answers.

But alas, so many of us are caught in the trap of judging ourselves and others based on the standards that society has programmed us to keep score with – money being the chief metric among these.

My advice on money is to figure out the real worth that money actually brings to your life.

How much comfort do you need? How much freedom do you need? How much choice and control do you need?

I’m not saying you have to stop there, but the truth is, the real return of money stops at a certain point – and the danger begins when you start sacrificing the things that really matter in order to acquire an arbitrary and intangible sense of worth that you have bestowed onto money.

And maybe you have no liquidity and your bank ledger is constantly dipping into the red – then the real question in this case is, have you sacrificed your sense of self-worth and inner peace as a result?

Because the truth about money is that it comes and goes, and like love, it comes a lot easier when you don’t attach your self-worth to it.

That’s a big gamble to make. Don’t attach who you are to what you have.

Einstein said that all he needed to be happy was ‘chair, a desk, and an apple’.

I think we all need to determine what our chair, desk, and apple are.

My personal and semi satirical-twist on this is that all I need to be happy is a pizza and a box of wine.

Now, I am not a wino, but if I had a pizza and a box of wine, I’m pretty sure I could manage to have a great afternoon.

If I truly was to equate how much money I needed to experience inner peace and lasting happiness, I would probably take a good look at Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs in relation to how much money effects meeting my basic physiological and safety needs.

Beyond that, I would use Maslow’s model to examine my personal beliefs about money in relation to my sense of Love/Belonging, Esteem, and Self-Actualization and use this as a guide to determine how much money I need in order to reach my peak potential in life.

My goals in life involve having a large family and providing them with the things that money affords that I did not have access to.

However, in my personal journey, I have been extremely fortunate to have come from my unique background and in the course of my 28 years to have discovered on my own what money and happiness really means to me.

The intangibles, the things I write about that have so much more worth than money ever could.

Because the intangible truth is that happiness is independent from circumstance.

If you do not understand this, I implore you to read the Autobiography of Nelson Mandela, and Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search For Meaning.

Seriously, invest in yourself and your future generations. These works are the real deal.

If you are unhappy because of a lack of prosperity I’d advise you to stop comparing yourself to other people and to reexamine your heroes.

If you are still hellbent on pursuing prosperity as a means to happiness, by all means, go ahead. I’ve been down that road. It’s like being a mouse in a cage, running on that wheel. It leads to the same place you are now.

Money is just a means – to what end is your choice.

You can use it to help yourself and others, or you can use it to separate yourself from others by judging those with it or without it – yourself included.

It’s just money.

Figure out what it means to you and you’ll figure out your relationship with it.

Figure out what you will use it for and don’t be used for it.

Figure out how money relates to your personal happiness, and whether it’s real needs that are the limiting factor to your well-being, or whether it’s just your beliefs about money that are holding you down mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Figure out what matters to you. You only have so much time.

Figure out how you are keeping score in life.

Money is just security, and if you are fortunate – a bit of freedom and autonomy as well – but real freedom and autonomy arises from your beliefs, and real security comes from who you are.

Don’t believe the lie that money equals happiness.

Meaning equals happiness.

Find meaning in your experiences, in your beliefs, in your relationships, and in the present moment.

The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful and for the sake of something else. – Aristotle

Waking Up to The Matrix

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Let me tell you why you’re here. You’re here because you know something. What you know you can’t explain, but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.

Morpheus, The Matrix

I’m a thinker, it’s just my nature.

Call it intensity, call it passion – but as enriching as the experience of deep introspection can be, it’s often the burden of many an artist’s soul.

But it must be faced, for to attempt to escape from that splinter in your mind is a dangerous pursuit that will often manifest itself in some of the most unhealthy and destructive forms of prolonged self-abuse.

If you’re thinking, if your gears are going, it’s because your brain is trying to resolve something – and you can’t ignore it.

In my journey through the world, I am always looking for signs and I’m willing to blindly venture down the rabbit hole in order to find them.

This willingness, combined with my unbridled ADHD, makes for a life that’s full of signs.

Tonight I was listening to Phil Collins and one of the youtube commenters said something to the effect of ‘GARBAGE , PETER GABRIEL KICKS PHILS ASS, SCREW THIS POP SHIT.’

So, I decided to listen to some Peter Gabriel, and what a beautiful thing that I did.


I have an egocentric tendency to relate things to my personal life or current situation. This is probably a result of my desire to discover the signs and messages in life, but it provides me with a great power, which is the ability to use everyday things (like a Peter Gabriel song) as lenses through which I can view the world from a perspective other than my own.

That allows me to better understand myself, and life as a whole.

What struck me about this song was it’s message of transcending pain through awakening.

Love I get so lost, sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside

In your eyes
The light the heat
In your eyes
I am complete
In your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
In your eyes
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your eyes
I see the light and the heat
In your eyes Oh,
I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your eyes

Love, I don’t like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

And all my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

The lyrics perfectly mirrored the song in my heart and it spoke for me, which is what I think good music should accomplish.

The reason it spoke for me is because right now I am floating in a place where I am not living from my gut, from my instincts – and that’s a painful place to be.

This is a song about instincts returning and the grand facade burning.

It’s about reaching out from the inside and establishing a new and loving relationship with yourself, where you are complete and you’ve found the resolution of all the fruitless searches.

To me, it’s about awakening to the experience of being reconnected to your authentic-self.

Your authentic-self is the true you. The person connected to your passions, your purpose, your beliefs and your identity.

This is difficult, because the authentic-self is not the same you that has been so deeply conditioned and programmed.

Societal pressures that we’ve come to call ‘life’ trap us, and force us to compromise our heart and ignore our intuition. And once you awaken to that you will question everything you beleive in.

The questions I’ve started asking myself are:

What makes me tick? What are the driving forces in my life?

Why do I do what I do, and make the choices that I make?

What beliefs are dictating my being? and are they empowering or disempowering beliefs?

Those are questions that won’t leave me, it’s as if I have to live with them now.

I’ve started to try and answer them, and I’m beginning to discover so much more about my nature. But most importantly I’m realizing how conflicted it is with my reality.

I’m not trying to get too existential here, but when you realize that you’ve been making the wrong commitments and your priorities are completely paradoxical to your true-nature and your life is suffering as a result of your beliefs – then I think it’s a wise time to question what you believe in.

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During his commencement speech at Stanford in 2005, Steve Jobs gave this sage anecdote:

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Unfortunately that answer has been no for me for far too long. Probably as is the case for many of us who aren’t living our truth.

Instead of living our truth, we are caught in the trap of trying to please everybody.

Why? We’ve been programmed to. Just like our parents were programed to try and please the gatekeepers. Employers, teachers, the opposite sex, the government – the entire system relies on us being compelled to try and appease it.

And that’s just one example of thinking that has been so deeply ingrained into us that we don’t even realize it.

From birth, we are plugged into a world that programs our thinking and our beliefs.

Welcome to the matrix.

But if we had the courage to deprogram our thinking, and truly examine our beliefs then we would have the power to define our world, rather than be defined by it.

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That, my friend, is called unplugging from the matrix.

Here’s a great explanation of ‘unplugging from the matrix’ from Awake in The Now.

Once the red pill is taken or the awakening process begins, there is no turning back, it cannot be undone.

When we reach the point where higher self comes to tap us on the shoulder we must respond. If we resist this wake up call we will suffer more and more intensely until we get the message and make the turn inward.

In the movie, Neo chooses the red pill and is unplugged so to speak from the matrix. The is an incredibly painful and disorienting process as he realizes that everything he took to be reality is not in fact real but just a projection of his mind and part of a simulated dream world within which he had been imprisoned…

The process of beginning to unplug from the matrix is very painful for most of us because essentially everything, every aspect of our lives begins to change and transform in profound and initially uncomfortable ways. We no longer get much comfort and pleasure from the things we used to and as we begin to see through the illusion we’re confronted with the vastness and limitlessness of the unknown which is terrifying to us because we’re used to living in a comfortably limited world.

The higher-self has definitely tapped me on the shoulder. I’ve takien the red pill and I’m starting to experience the discomfort of seeing through the illusion of my beliefs and the choices they are producing.

There is no turning back from this awakening.

Now I really have to answer those same questions of:

What makes me tick? What are the driving forces in my life?

Why do I do what I do, and make the choices that I make?

What beliefs are dictating my being? and are they empowering or disempowering beliefs?

and just as important,

What are the beliefs that are holding me back from doing what I’d truly like to be doing and what I’m truly capable of doing?

and what beliefs are limiting my concept of what I’m capable of and what my limits are?

Clearly, for most all of us, fear is a central theme in the answers.

Many of us have likely heard of the concept of people being driven by fear.

We’re scared of letting people down, we are scared of being uncomfortable, we are scared of taking that most painful first step.

Whatever we are afraid of, we need to uncover our fears and face them as what they are: beliefs. And as I asserted, we need to ask if they are empowering or disempowering fears.

In my previous post, I embedded a youtube video where Will Smith can be seen explaining to PBS’ Charlie Rose that he is driven by fear:

‘I’m motivated by fear. Fear of fear! I hate being scared to do something, and I think what developed in my early days was the habit of attacking things that I was scared of.’

Will Smith

What’s really interesting about what Will Smith said, is that although he admits to being motivated by fear, in his case, his fear is fear; being scared to do something.

So, in the case of Will Smith, his fear is an empowering belief, because it causes him to attack things to avoid being scared of them.

“So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

Franklin D. Roosevelt, Inaugural Address, March 4th 1933

That’s probably the only fear that’s going to empower us. The fear of being afraid to do anything.

If we are afraid of fear then we are afraid to be paralyzed by the ‘needed efforts to convert retreat into advance’.

And once we realize that’s the only fear worth fearing, then we stop being driven by limiting fears that are disempowering because they cause us to be afraid of taking action. Action shouldn’t be feared. Not taking action because we are afraid should be feared.

If we can re-frame our fears in this light, we will see that they are not protecting us, or keeping us safe. They are keeping us plugged into the matrix. And when we examine the root of the fears that have been guiding and defining us for so long, we will come to see that they are based in societal notions that have been imparted to us without any real critical thought.

We just accept that being successful is hard, and we are safer at a job, and all of the other ‘unjustified terrors’ that are keeping us in the uncomfortable place of having taken the red pill, but not walking through the door and becoming truly unplugged.

To truly unplug from the matrix, you need to establish a belief system that is completely rooted in the inner-voice of your heart, and the quiet yet unwavering intuition of your gut.

This sounds complex, to make the jump from the beliefs of the matrix to our own, but there’s actually a secret to it.

From the same video, in my previous post.

“Greatness is not this wonderful, esoteric, elusive, god-like feature that only the special among us will ever taste – you know it’s something that truly exists in all of us. It’s very simple: this is what I believe and I’m willing to die for it. Period. It’s that simple. I know who I am and I know what I believe, and that’s all I need to know, so from there you do what you need to do. I think what happens is we make this situation more complex – the normal among us, than it has to be (because we’re looking for complexity).”

If we want to find out what are beliefs are, we need only ask if we would be willing to die for them – and not necessarily in a literal sense, but absolutely in a figurative sense. Our true beliefs that are rooted in our authentic-self outside of the matrix have to be essential for our existence.

You either believe it or you don’t.

In this video, Will Smith talks about a lesson learned from Muhammad Ali on the critical nature of innate confidence as a belief that’s required for success.

If you don’t believe it – no one else will.

So if you can frame your beliefs on the idea that they will make or break you, then you can begin to establish beliefs that will unplug you from the matrix and connect you to the limitless nature of your true being.

You can unplug from the maxtrix wherever you are trapped by it.

You can go as deep as you want down the rabbit hole. It’s all dependent upon how much you wish to awaken to the programmed beliefs that keep us trapped in the matrix.

Maybe the matrix is your career, maybe it’s your dreams that lay stagnant because of your fear. Maybe it’s an entire life path, as defined by society. The matrix is nothing more than the software that our mind is running. Our physical being is the technology, and we don’t have to run the same software that everyone else is running. We can program our own beliefs to mirror those of the most self-actualized and successful members of our society. Those that are free from the rat-race, and are living a life that’s tailor made for them. Design your life and program yourself as required.

Start deprogramming yourself today. Find out exactly what your guiding systems are.

Your only fear should be fear of letting fear continue controlling you. Reach out from the inside and let your instincts return and the grand facade of the matrix will burn. Now that you are awakening to the matrix, it’s time to unplug. It’s your choice: you take the blue pill, the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

I’m trying to free your mind, but I can only show you the door. You’re the one that has to walk through it.

“There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life.” – John Lennon

My Raison D’être

As you get older, you realize the importance of family over all else.

Older people tell you that – and then one day – you’re 28, and it’s true.

And it’s the realest thing ever. There really is nothing more real than that.

We live in a crazy world. A world that moves so fast.

A world full of love and hate; life and death; joy and fear; sadness and happiness; hope and despair. And everything imaginable in-between.

I do not know the nature of life. I don’t know what happens after life.

I do not know why we are here.

But I do know that I was created.

Like you, I came from my mother’s womb, naked and crying. That’s all that life guaranteed me. The rest was purely good-fortune.

I realize that I was lucky to have people waiting for me who loved me and did their best to raise me.

The older I get, the more I appreciate that. Just the fact that I have a family.

Not all of us are that fortunate.

Beyond the fact that I was lucky enough just to have parents around at all, I hit the lottery in that I know what unconditional love feels like.

No – I didn’t grow up in a Brady Bunch household.

There were struggles that I am only now coming to understand. But I get that I was lucky through it all.

Who among us can claim to have a perfect family.

We can ALL claim to have a fucked-up family in the way that all families are fucked-up in their own way. That’s just called life.

And that’s family. It’s messy. It’s not the superficial social experience of friendship. There’s no hanging out on a good day and being invisible when it’s convenient. There is no filter, and there is no choosing what you get to keep private.

It is people at their best and at their complete worst. It’s phone calls at 2 am, and crying all night, and the worst birthday ever.

And all too often, it’s the worst that we remember; for what is more emotionally charged than family. What cuts deeper.

But it’s also the times your dad took you fishing. When he made lunch for just the two of you and you watched a movie that you can’t even remember, but you remember the taste of pringles chips and a can of coke. Or when you walked out on the pier during a huge storm together.

It’s when your mom snuck you a few extra bucks for lunch even though times were tight. It’s when she made you a burger on the stove at 1 am and watched sleepless in Seattle with you. It’s when she got you dressed and you went for a walk with her in the middle of the biggest El Niño in 15 years.

It’s every day my sister has ever been alive.

What is sweeter.

I know of no greater love.

I want to call all of my family right now and just cry. Just tell them that I am sorry that my head is always somewhere else and I’m sorry that life has for a long time overshadowed that.

I love my family. They are the most wonderful people I have ever known. They are everything I stand for and believe about the world. And that’s the greatest gift that life has given me.

I know that none of us will be around forever. But I promise to pass on every fucked-up and beautiful thing about this family of mine. I promise to carry on my dad’s passion, and his love of the sea. I promise to carry on my mom’s poetic heart. I promise to carry on my sister’s everlasting love and dedication.

Thy eternal summer shall not fade.

I’m rededicating my life right now to family. Past, present, for now, and forever.

This is my raison d’être.

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