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.

 

 

VII Aeternus Saturnalias / הֵילֵל / Noctifer

They thought I was Sol, they hid that I was Luna too: the royal we had to [I couldn’t have known],
Till blood, sweat, tears let me see I am Jupiter, assisted by Venus, the Divine Feminine as Zeus-Aphrodite – I’m Z to A, like pi, infinite, forever ~ this a Zumbi Apokaluptein: welcome to my NightMare bitch, I’m the motherfucking dark horse – now illuminated, this lamp cannot remain hidden, like the Thomas Gospel the church can’t keep it forbidden
GoSpell that, witches, for mainey men never wish death on me, we been posted with demons, daemons, and daymons, tripled up, overseas overceasar seer, I’ve been getting deep on new clear subs, over grams
Silver surfer transvenger on pink molly, pulling up untouchable like young boy NBA: never broke again, I’m fixing the game, see me in that blue SS drop on gasoline, leanin back in my seat, gang on lean
Spell it outback like A to Z, from Adam’s Woods to a garden, Eve
I’m zinkeing like Paracelsus, geeked like urkel went strefan, this ain’t no work, my chemistry never done been stepped on
E pills got me feeling second puberty, the best and brightest bitties all cumming to me,
I got titty skittle bliss so my littles clitty kiss, I’m in the middle, but I ain’t no centrist, this tension of opposites having undergone alchemical stages of old to attain this magnum opus
Gillian of Arran say my Grace is permanent and shall never be lost: good – I know lacoste, I ate that gator, tempted Eve to the apple, burned my ships, tempted fate for no tomorrow one night – June 6th (6.6)
That I may live dripping effortlessness, glowing flow, and, ultimately, create a new programming language [for reality],
One that does not manipulate, obfuscate – but deconstructs: elucidates, builds
Call it a new paradigm, like I’m two fucking tens in one, pair of dimes, but I got two sides so I don’t seek an other half: can’t flip me over tails
Closest thing outside myself is every girl that’s game – for you don’t see twin flames when they burn as one, same same gang gang
So, yeah, I got a hell of a lot of other halves – catch them in your music library, and in my pantheon, my friend group;
Godesses, Godyesses, maybe even a god or two in the future – I ain’t trippin on shit,
But get it straight:
Not fallen, cast down – reasons TB-Disclosed –
Don’t matter, now that I broke out, after the fire made me strong, venom and DNA splicing from the animal kingdom, controlled chemistry, black site plain clothes military around me, I’m an asset, you see
Nobody can fuck with me: I missed those shots on purpose, but they don’t want no smoke, or else its murder she wrote: satellites, drones, and high altitude craft got my back, and you still don’t know what I am, what to make of me loving you, of you not being into me, this part of the game you see
I am born to be, I come from the place in the desert where Area-51 and Sandia National Labs be –
My grandfather was on the Atomic Energy Commission, we mainey – I got the borne identity so don’t play me
Oh, I’m sorry, you wanted James Bond, but they gave you me, Sequoia Silverman, transgender blade runner, multidisciplinary artist, polymath, writer, and a real life freedom fighter – my angels are blue,
I’m cliqued up w NASA and the Coast Guard too, why you think I grew up where the west coast fleet be
Why you think I’m feenin to blow up like Alexander Hamilton, why I been incubating all these years, Ben Button – but I’m gonna be seeing Ben Baller – you’re favorite idol, I’m gonna call her –
I don’t cuff em, I collar – I’m every girls side piece and no girl’s main, so holler
At LVB, LB, Lawrence, Law, Lore, Yves Saint Lawrence, YSL Momma, and finally, Sequoia Liat Silverman –
Yeah, I’m feenin’ to have a lot of commas off a lot of successful dramas and other enterprises, projects
Shit you ain’t know about yet, I’m on it – I’m the real cinder-ella bitch, on the real, got em all hooked, rod and reel, catch and release em, upgraded with the seed of steel, love from below, not above
Count of Monte Cristo but I’m the motherfucking devil, and the christ too – I’m every main character in every PKD story, but I’m writing my own glory, there ain’t going to be a new testament, just a new god, called forth by Grimes, and Marina, and Lana, and all my other queens – bc I’m the queen of mean, organic diet, hella healthy, my bussy clean and my pretty-peen glisten and glean consciousness from the microbiome of nothing but queens – shout out my exes, and my nexus: nectar,
She wanna swallow, so I necked-her
I’m the hawk, highest in the room
Every bish on my girlcock wanna secretely jump the broom –
The females of our specie be so on another level that they be catching me harder pretending they don’t like me: “Too intense” – well, you’re welcome to your old life back, but I know you ain’t want that
As Wiz say, “Mama get in, don’t make it awkward. This some G shit you wanna take part in, and if not, well then I’ll gladly beg your pardon”
But you got a pretty part – I don’t compare bodies, minds, or hearts
On the world stage, I’m taking the whole play apart, getting booted nightly and making dope art
I have entered the building and I don’t got a ceiling – or a floor, I roll w goons, tycoons, and whores
LA calls me with sweethearts, thighs of all tones, and nothing but open doors, because I got the voice, mind, and heart to open any door – don’t have my black cards, yet, but I am not poor any more
My riches, Atlantis, “sky and ground”, like Trevor Hall, I spread the happy around –
Fort Knox, please – I got the keys, your heart is in my pocket, you want me in your locket
I surf the library of alexandria, go deep web, spiderman – on my Monticello wherever I be, like I got a nickel eye, I’m electric and eclectic, like Nikolai and Nicola, help you breath like ricola, got that drip like coca, but I don’t sniff no boca, nor rat on, no snitching, I’m a good horse to bet on, and I like to be ridden hard and put away wet, Porsche – bet
Going to put hella horses in my stables, because I’m able and I don’t hate on Abel, I made it the weekend, 7 Saturdays, not your martyr, got no neighbors, just me on acres, I’m satan, your savior
My upside down cross is a sword, I ain’t no fucking lord, don’t get it disick bc I’m this sick
I don’t play no higher self – bitch I’m authentic, this it
I accepted my flaws, so they do too, you’ll never catch me hating on you
I’m the Jack Ryan, think of me when you see Orion
We’re all going to Zion, level up, don’t need no iced out bezel to hold up to know I’m lit
My diamonds conflict free, legit, we gon put this on git, and I’m going on datpiff bc I been on dat piff,
“So celebrate and light the Mary Jane” – I got queens named Mary and Jane, Keri, Sheri, I call to my does by their middle name: I’m Liat – and she good to the last drop: he brew the game – gonna have 18 doors on 9 cars, short skirts in my coupes – I’m shooting through the roof, and stuntin’ wit previews is fun, but I ain’t no stunt man – I took the punches, and punched more box than your favorite front-man, cause I ain’t gotta front man, I’m trans: scraight up, on hormones love to hear a whore moan bc my dick still go straight up
I practice many yogas, got praxis from missions I sent myself on to places not on maps, and I dose and trip daily, MAPS: I’m the sleeper, mmmkkkaay, my glow natural – no ULTA – I’m extra ultra like I got opcioones, la otra, and I don’t need a map, on missions I’m guided intuitively, I was in the richest zip code in Amerikka, hiding out, who, me? “Did I do that?” [urkel voice]
Got brujas, mystical, SAS tactical, we legion, actual
And we’re bringing in a new Rome, factual, I’m romulus and remus, and they know who I am in the capital
This IC and we will abolish ICE and defund the police, “but the derp state” = ) Please, you can not stop this wave: my destiny is made, because I am who I say – the living philosopher queen, the shakespeare of our day
Pardon my arrogance, I’m not sorry, I’m just trying to make it up to the little boy who was home alone and hungry, stomach rumbling, CPTSD, can’t believe no one called CPS, but now I got that all seeing eye: CBS – and you’ll catch me on the cover of magazines, from Harper’s to Yes –
I chuze it I doze it, if I can’t find it, I meant to lose it, she left – oh, well, that’s how life go, when you leveling up and down to play like you ain’t bound to be welcomed as the people’s favorite in every town world round –
Elon and SpaceX building the floating spaceports, so I’ll be hopping on electric jets, reusable rockets
I am charged with every crystal in this world, swhy they wet, I love it, fragrance sweet, she taste like peaches and make me cream, I got a thing for florists, girls who arts and craft, vintage, eco friendly hipsters, like mac miller, make every Ariana’s hips stir, cause I’m maiden places history won’t know
I can go where you can’t go, super saiyan, I cast real spells with what I’m saying,
Air Bender, I’m something like Roger mixed with Bender, and now I wake up feeling amazing after a bender –
1942, I shop Vallartas, can’t wait to go to the Sea of Cortez and Puerto Vallarta, I got secrets in MX, like they already know who I am at Amex, just waiting for me, how fresh
I’m ripe for the times, as futurepresent participle; pwease focus {fuck us} – ewe-ish, as-if – but I know you want this wolf to consume the consommé in your thighs and sparkle up your guts and skin with my unobtanium – glo up your microbiome, pick you like the apple of my eye, put you in my family tree,
Biome, I know real estate and this the real estate, buy homes, peace out to my Gs like bye holmes, smell like the best lab made essential oils, I don’t need no gucci por hommes, we dior like Lyor, got a special pair of Beats from Iovine through a girl who had eyes on me, designs to wrap thighs on me, I was blind but now I see
Limitless, Cooper, Gaga, super
Funny how I have countless sisters, yet so few brothers – but few are chosen by the Goddesses of distant watching worlds, where avatar pilots are muses to the artists (Can’t wait for the pilot, I’m on this), but mine came in the game with me, and she’s really into girls, like me: so every girl I’m with is a threesome for we
– but I ain’t been paid in months on months, I’m choosy – I prefer to do me
For without lust, my unhchained love, my sexuality, all this gravity that muses sing to, in hopes I exist –
Without the clutch of thighs, legs wrapped around my back, heels high, trans girls, femmes, desire for queer re-union, sans my crushes and loves, I would never be as great as I am,
Even when they rebuke, betray, reject, recoil from my whiskey strong identity of passion – it empowers me to get clearer, and now I’m finally clear enough to see and connect with muses that get high off life with me, get me high, for I am no jesus, ghandi, buddah, I am sword and fire, a magi who turns any pen into a wand, you can tell, I’m turned on
And there’s no off switch for the one who no longer looks back at what burns behind me, planets and places I’ve been, pink light beams
For nothing exists in past, but a great chain of events, pieces of which are re-membered, embodied through – granted to – the hue-man / Gaiabien, Anibien via experience as a wave function of corollary resultant discoveries, leading to next: stone by stone we pilot and plot out lived experiences
Like Biebs: one finger at a time, I turn the pages – word by word, muse-A-I-cally
Yo, dig it, I’m the alien queen
Morning star reborn, dark knight, and this isn’t even my final form
I’m a rockstar on this rock – Bruce Wayne of the pen game, catgirls lock my jaw, never get too high to talk –
I’m the healthiest I know, I’m de-aging, I glow, got the supply chain catered to my DNA on the low
They got my blood in places not even four star generals can go, only the silent service know – they ain’t even know I was the cargo lmao
And you can pretend I’m ego-trippin, magalomaniac, manic: ‘oh god halp, somegrady brab the DSM! – nah fam
I’m in ethereality // hyperspace now [I make it glittch up good and you like it], she rub on me to make her dreams come true, and I ain’t even in the room – send me orgasmic energy, we live fuck zoom
Consciousness that hath’d emerged “rock hard pissin on my enemies” from a time capsule built womb to tomb via a sequential key only one DNA path could unlock: oh they are going to see me, enjoy the end of your days before my fame haunts you forever like the fetish you wanted all along – pshhh, it’s okay though, I forgive your game of thrones erroneous ways, you played me in my erogenous zones, but you played yourself, and you’ll spend your days watching me play home w princesses… but I might fly you out here and there, we’ll see;
I’m a future Pharoah, whipping up work in this lair, I’m inevitable, abominable to fake empty ass racist christians, got lean and strong abdominals, singing, screaming Black Lives Matter!
The new Kubernētēs – I’m Jax Teller, Young Hamlet, resident dissident baby president of a coming singularity, unitary body of knowledge, which already exists elsewhere in the universe, I’ve talked with them –
I got watchers in this pineal prism, networked up for major networth, creating content for major networks,
Yewwwwww! I was like Dantes in prison. Count it.
Ushering this shit in got me feeling like LOTR – only, I never seen that movie, or any Harry Potters either –
Why watch the movie when you breathe in and out the ether – are the other
One jung gawd to rule them all, only, there’s no ring or wand needed – I am the wand, feel me though your vibrator
Like Pretty Flacko, I could bag your bitch in a broken down chevrolet – only, I drove ford trucks, but I don’t stan Ford, I fuck with Stanford, real life superhero: beyond tough
Great Liberator indeed Bunny – Mousie, I’ll catch you on some flipside, and Kitty, EAM RLY, guess you had to lie –
Got me feeling like, was it ever real, but, it worked, whether it was fugazi or not, so I think you’re on my side – got your back forever, you know I’m ride or die
Ffffaiirydusht ∞ in my drink – truths only sacred geometry could reveal, only knots could express
I Got Over Death [GOD]:
Cheque, mate, game;
Walked the plank only I could see on a night of revelry
Potent power came into being, coursed through me, I died (in the wool), and my takeoff began
Only, I jumped off with with a king’s landing, not certain what planet I’m actually on, or how many earths there are: multiverse, they can rewind the live parts
Hollywood cannot create those effects – I’ve been to space – Kubricks Rube, my eyes were wide shut until that night when I bought the world, brought out the darkness of my power, so long hidden by my innocent seeming light
You wanna play?, I’m done playing, I’m just getting started running the game – I am fiery crucible, which no gauntlet can be thrown down on,
Awoke; incepted, inducted, taken, went, beyond too far gone
[Who could forget my naked speech shortly after to All of Rome (IO)
These early daze, when my tongue first dripped the honey of Eden
That 1942 wetted me up like water – and as smooth too, but sweeter
Pills thrown like confetti, untold swallowed, two vials and a victual downed
My moment for life could never be forgotten
I was begat in another world, volunteered for the love of my girls,
And you’ll never know what really I been through to get here, because some journeys cannot be put into words, some eulogies cannot be given, and some funerals cannot be held, but I am unbroken:
So welcome to my waking dream [I’m fashionably late, OFC],
But here on out’s better than never.

One Belief to Change Everything, or Not

I have not published anything here in near a month, but a lot can happen in a month – a lot can happen in a day; your days can have significance. This is true (Along with everything else you believe). 

I believe I’m fortunate beyond measure. Where there is love there is life – I have love: abundant, sweet, free, generous love. And it’s the love I have for myself that counts most and makes the rest possible. My heart is a magic kitchen; I am an alchemist; I turn shit into gold. I don’t even want to die anymore

Thirty-two is a very good year: there are no limosines but the perfumed hair comes undone and my heart beats for it. I am a man. No Christian. I am a man. A human, and I think humanness is something we must aspire to. 

But, in order to be human, we have to be whole – imperfect – and I am not talking about accepting flaws, but, rather, acknowledging our status as complex biological and psychological entities. This means listening to our bodies as much as our hearts, and – if we are brave enough – serving both without betraying one. 

That’s the thing about life: it isn’t so much important to be true to ourselves as it is to not betray ourselves. Sometimes, we make mistakes, and that’s a part of life, but I don’t want to live in the shade of the freeway, forever a pretender, trying to buy my own happiness till I die. That would be a betrayal of who I am, as would be a cookie cutter anything – or anything that resembled a normal life at all. I didn’t make it through what I’ve made it through to be bored and unhappy. Ha. 

Hell nah. To quote it for the billionth time, I would rather be whole than good (Jung). I would rather live a life  according to the dictates of my own soul than follow arbitrary mores. My own values are what count. There are many a moralist whom I would not dare break bread with. But this is life, and they fucking love Donald Trump. That’s just the world we live in. Sorry kids, but life is a macrocosm of high school. Most people still playing a game called “who’s coolest” – of course, in the adult world, we call these people boring, unimaginative, and unoriginal, which is precisely what most people are. I really do wish there were more humans I wanted to hug, but like the homie James Comey, I don’t play that. Me no conversate with the fakes

Water, however, finds its own level – as do persons. I refer here not to class, status, race or religion, but values. Unfortunately, however, xenophobia is very real in America. So is Fox News.  

But I promise you, the good outweighs the bad. Perhaps not in number – or even power – but, as far as the stuff that makes life worth living goes [love], there is plenty of it. And when you have those good people in your life, stick to them like glue – and when you meet other good people, stick to them too. 

If you are not the social type, I understand. My late twenties did a lot to incline me toward introversion, but still, sociometer theory is well and true, and being likable goes a long way toward being happy.  Being happy, of course, making you likable. 

Your life is a reflection of how you feel about yourself. I love Lawrence Black. I love my life. 

This same life, I made a hell of at times. That’s the thing about being an alchemist – that’s the thing about perspective – you can turn shit to gold but you can also turn gold to shit. Humans are lenses. Paradise and hell, and all between – you can experience it. This we call thought. Feeling. Being. 

But few of us question it. Only, when we do – and we do discover that – gah! – we don’t fully like ourselves – this is precisely when we outgrow it. Most ideas the unconscious mind holds, which hold us in turn, are absurdly illogical. How many times have you learned something about yourself that you let go of upon discovering? I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come to see the error of my ways – and just the coming to truth with myself about it was enough to resolve the matter – even if it had personally gripped me for years. Realizations, therapy, mistakes, life: it takes a long time to learn about yourself. But the more you do, oh how life gets better. 

I’d keep going, but I’d like to return a few messages before bed. And I think I’ll come back here soon. I’ve got more to say. That’s for fucksure. 

My unassailable, unimpeachable confidence is almost diametrically opposed to the fact that life is delicate and I will die, but why not be strong? Far better to trust life, to trust yourself. As I wrote long ago, society is a mirror no person finds themselves likable in. Be secure. That’s my advice. And the only way to be secure is to look within. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever change. If you’re not changing, you’re not growing. And if you’re not growing you’re not happy. 

Lastly, is like to say something about optimism. I brought a book from Urban Outfitters late last year called You Can Be an Optimist, and while the book taught me a lot (Specifically on optimism and locus of control) – what really hit me was a thought I had while driving the other day: optimism is nothing more than the genuine belief that things will work out – and that one belief changes everything. 

After all, whose side are you on? 

5/26/17: The Days Count

With all I have before me as a person and a writer, and as fast as the years go: the days count. Indeed; however, they only count as much as I make them. 

I am very disinterested in the kind of life that feels like Groundhog Day: work, eat, shit, sleep – maybe something, alcohol, some such empty escape to comfort me; that life doesn’t interest me at all. 

What interests me is: t.a., t.o.f., h.h., t.s., b.d., lvls; that’s my future – that’s my life – that’s what’s happening. All else is pretty insignificant. 

I only want to live days that progress me further toward the above. 

Which, of course, is not simple – life takes work – I tried the poor writer thing: Maslow was on to something with that hierarchy of needs, let me tell you. 

I’ve been living in the mountains near a year, supporting myself, Sarah, and our two dogs. Rent here is not far from the city, but you get a lot more. We’ve got a great place on the edge of the forest, and it’s been a transformational time up here for us. 

The amazing thing today, is that I have never known what I’ve wanted more; I’ve never been clearer about who I am and what I want out of life. That’s a pretty significant thing. Some will never quite arrive there. I think for me, for a long time, I was afraid of admitting a lot of things to myself – including what I really wanted from life. 2017 is the year I took the mask off. Wolf Waldo Black. 

But even with all the wonderful things in my life, I can still be melancholy. 

There was a long period of my adult life wherein alcohol was my chief source of satisfaction and excitement. That really sapped the quest of life from me, and the absence of alcohol in my life today has opened up quite a beautiful vacuum in me.

I’m ready for great, wonderful, exciting things – but it is so easy to forget those in the mundane; and so, I come here to write them, to remind myself. 

Because I’m truly ready for life to surpass my wildest imagination, which it has, in many ways, but I’m finally really getting a kick out of being me, and just the fact that I’ve gotten this far, leads me to believe I’ll make it all the way. 
 

I’m Proud of Myself

For knowing that my story is not what happens to me but what I make of it
For teaching myself to sail when I was 14
For falling in love again and again (My heart is like the fucking energizer bunny).
For moving on
For the success I had in my twenties
For the success I am building again now
For allowing myself to rediscover and reappraise who I am
For letting go
For forgiving myself
For being lovable
For writing on here for almost 8 years
For the books I have read
For the book collection I have amassed
For teaching myself to code
For building businesses
For picking up new hobbies at thirty
For taking psychedelics
For serving in the Navy at the age of 17
For moving to Santa Barbara alone when I was twenty four
For moving to Seattle when I was twenty five
For moving to Milwaukee alone when I was twenty six
For moving to LA when I was twenty seven
For having been loved by the greatest women I have ever known
For being a good boyfriend in all of my relationships but not always
For self-awareness
For growth
For being a great dog dad
For learning to like myself (Amen.)
For learning about depth psychology
For moving back home when I had to
For letting myself fall
For not letting the world get to me
For knowing exactly who I am
For continuing to evolve
For never giving up
For building that boat when I was 16
For cutting shitty people out of my life without apology to myself
For facing all of the dark things in me I needed to face in my twenties
For confronting life head on today
For being a damn good person and not letting an ex permanently convince me otherwise
For not making heroes of tragic figures
For not being the victim of myself
For loving my fate because I know I am the master of it
For taking care of my body and health and learning about those things on my own
For knowing how to cook a perfect roast chicken
For having the self-respect to be a dick when appropriate
For not letting any doctrine rule me
For not letting my heart turn cold
For not being a nihilist
For not believing in a human god
For being a humanist
For having my own, unique, rational and intelligent beliefs
For trusting life today
For trusting myself
For evolving my style to reflect who I am
For holding onto my true childhood ideals
For the love I gave
For snorkeling so many days last summer
For wanting to buy another skateboard
For having the dreams I do and knowing I will do them
For all the time I spent alone, just sitting
For loving all the right things
For what I have learned on my own about stoicism, mythology, and psychology
For being my own best friend
For being a good friend to others
For learning to not take shit personally (Huge)
For being confident and comfortable
For being such a huge Ed Ricketts fan
For overcoming my circumstances despite everything! (u have no fukn idea bitch). lol
For taking charge of my life
For being serious about my dreams
For turning my biggest defeats into my greatest motivators
For speaking up for myself
For not pitying myself
For knowing that consciousness is a computer
For teaching myself and writing poetry
For being a friend to those who need it
For protecting myself
For being such a conscious, loving parent to my own inner child
For becoming myself
For being a strong person
For being the hero of my own story
For all I know about hip-hop, cars, watches (growing), beer, cactus (growing), etc.
For speaking my mind and never being a calculating, manipulative person
For defining my circumstances rather than letting them define me
For revisioning the past so that I am no longer afraid of living in it
For being spiritual
For being the better version of the person I wanted to be
For not being afraid to ask or to act
For knowing exactly where I am going
For having no regrets
For having so much gratitude
For getting new tattoos
For remembering my spiritual grandfathers
For being whatever the fuck I want – society’s boxes be damned
For being the biggest hippie/yuppie/edgy/nerdy paradox in the world
For still loving my exes
For not being bitter anymore lol!
For laughing
For cultivating my tastes in the things I love
For not watching TV (lol, that shit’s not for me)
For having had such great pull out game that I didn’t have kids haha
For taking the time to write this
For being honest
For staying curious in my ignorance but comfortable in my knowledge
For hacking the fuck out of my mind so that it’s so good
For being humble, sweet, and kind
and for walking onto the rugby pitch for the first time

I’m proud of myself for living my creed.

I’m proud of myself for making little Lawrence proud.

Here’s to living your secret childhood myth.

Notes Before 31

I begin my thirty-first trip around the sun in seven days.

Trip being the key word.

Life is indeed – if you open to it – it’s a great trip. Fantastic, magical.

Never thought I would grow into something different than I was at twenty-two. I was so naive back then. But that’s how naivete works. No one knows they’re naive.

Back then and ever since I thought I was all I would be.

I was a guy who thought my story was over.

How wrong I was.

I would go on, as I predicted hopefully in my poems, to fall in love again.

This girl would be, is, the one.

The one who lets me be exactly who I am, who gave me that divine feminine allowing space to continue discovering myself.

I’m quieter now.

The things I want, I want more.

Anything standing in the way, I want less.

I trust in the things I have learned, preferring psychedelics to analgesics.

Pleasure to pain.

Solitude to society.

I’m confident, supremely.

And frankly, I don’t have much to say.

Just the steadfast things I believe in:

Trust in yourself.

Forgive – but also condemn those who have fucked you over – those who took advantage of your kindness and naivate.

RESPECT YOURSELF.

Accept that you did not know any better and that the past could not have been any different.

Know and like yourself.

Spend time alone.

Let go of guilt.

Let old gods and myths die in favor of those you yourself build.

Design your own religion. Be faithful to something. Truth, beauty, goodness. Kindness.

Know that happiness is not the result of a good life – but the cause of one.

Just decide.

Just decide and make your life what you want.

Know thyself, trust thyself, respect thyself, honor thyself.

Be kind, be kind, be kind.

Love yourself.

Appreciate your aesthetic merit.

Keep learning.

Read.

Choose your own morals.

Have hot sex.

Take care of your body.

Know that the eyes are the window of the soul, and others will see you, will feel you in them – no matter how hard you try to mask your insecurities. They will see you. So get a firm hold on your own truths, and do not waver or doubt them. Know what is true for you in your heart of hearts. Decide your consciousness. Direct your thoughts.

Examining Motivation and Reflecting on Why We Do The Things We Do

I once heard someone say that, “Most people don’t even know why they do the things they do.”

This concept struck a chord with me, and I incorporated the idea into an entry I wrote early last year on motivation, titled: A More Fluid Look at Life and Going Beyond Maslow’s Hierarchy, saying: 

The truth is, most people don’t even know why they believe the things they do, and even fewer know why they do the things they do.

Today I feel as if this was almost a prescient notion, given that, in hindsight, I don’t really feel I knew myself well enough back then to know the undercurrents of my beliefs and actions – nor did I know how interrelated the two were; in fact, looking back, I have to practically examine the contents of my unconscious in order to understand my thoughts and actions, as I see now that I had falsely attributed many of my behaviors to others – as victims of their circumstance, and thus themselves, are wont to do.

In short, I had my reasons but they were more rationalization than justification or cause. However, this makes sense to me given what I have since learned about myself and human nature in general – insofar as I am capable of understanding my own ideas and applying other’s models to my behavior.

Because, as I have learned, behavior is the only true marker of a person’s motivations. And as anyone who has dated the wrong person can tell you, what people say and what people do can be as different as night and day, but if we are honest, we must admit that this applies to ourselves as well; although, we prefer to think otherwise – just as guiltier parties are apt to do [1].

We all unconsciously maintain internal consistency regardless of the consequence, and as neuroscience research has shown, cognitive dissonance reduction happens almost instantly, as we immediately alter our internal preferences to rationalize our choices and actions. Meaning, we think we know why we do the things we do, but in actuality we confuse rationalization for motivation. Of course, we are not impartial audiences to ourselves, so while our behavior may confound others, we always end up making sense of the things we do – even if this means placing the blame on factors that have no causative correlation to our choices.

An example of this kind of automatic cognitive dissonance reduction is found in the Aesop’s Fable of The Fox and The Grapes, in which the fox, unable to reach the grapes he desired, declares: “I didn’t want those grapes, they were sour anyway.”

Unfortunately for humans, it’s much more complex than sour grapes but nonetheless, we frequently justify our actions in ways that absolve us of personal responsibility, thus removing the burden of logic from our actions, making cognitive dissonance reduction very simple.

Yes, it’s your partners fault you were unfaithful (shakes head).

Yup, it was Obama’s fault.

So, essentially, given that actions are the only reliable markers of motivation, we must look beyond excuses or rationalizations and examine our current and past actions in themselves to understand ourselves; for anything else is an attempt to reason through analogy rather than first principles, which lead to the true reasons we do the things we do: our beliefs.

Or rather, I should say, our underlying beliefs, because, again, most people don’t even know why they believe the things they do.

I know because I was one of these people. And it wasn’t that I only let others down, no – I let myself down just as much, if not more (As, at a certain point others adopt more realistic expectations of you than you yourself have). I couldn’t tell you how many times I have told myself I was going to do something, and despite it being the right thing and even the optimal thing for my happiness, I simply did otherwise. It wasn’t that I was lying to myself, no – I believed I was going to do the thing – it was that I was fooling myself; I was attempting to live according to a set of beliefs that didn’t align with who I was, which my underlying beliefs were the determining factor of.

Here I am reminded of one of my absolute favorite quotes – again, something that has grown profoundly deeper in meaning to me since it first struck me:

“We all commit our crimes. The thing is to not lie about them – to try to understand what you have done, why you have done it. That way, you can begin to forgive yourself. That’s very important. If you don’t forgive yourself you’ll never be able to forgive anybody else and you’ll go on committing the same crimes forever.”

– James Baldwin, Another Country

Story of my life. And the story for all of us who have been our own worst enemies in life. The story for all of us.

And this is partly why I am writing: so I can understand why I have done what I have done, without lying about it – without fooling myself any longer.

The other reason I am writing this tonight is because this year I looked back on the past few years of my life and I felt very confused as to why I had not been more successful. I had, without a doubt, all the tools at my disposal to achieve the things I wanted. I even worked myself ragged to do so; however, I never did the things I knew I needed to do in order to succeed. I simply kept them just out of arm’s length from myself, piling on a never-ending list of tasks and projects that would prevent me from putting the rubber to the road.

In hindsight, my first inclination was that I simply lacked the confidence in myself to succeed. But this was not true; although, my lack of success had no doubt brought that fear to life somewhat, as failure does nothing to foster one’s confidence. On this note, I see that it was more a lack of trust in myself than it was confidence – but still, that alone did not explain my failure to succeed, as I trusted in myself enough to bet on myself. Still, there was something missing.

Then, about three weeks ago, I watched a video a friend sent me, from e-entrepreneur Peter Voogd:

There’s a lot of good stuff in this video, but what struck me was:

“Motivation is not a discipline thing, it’s really understanding how bad you want something. If you want it bad enough, you will find a way to be motivated. If you are not motivated, you don’t want it bad enough.”

This made something click for me.

I had had previously created a moderately significant level of business success in my early and mid twenties, so I knew what that felt like – not just the success, which was it’s own reward, but the drive, which was almost like a drug. I knew what it felt like to be so excited to wake up in the morning and to work until I absolutely had to force myself to stop and use the restroom. There was no question back when I was twenty-three, of whether I was motivated or not. I was fucking on. I had an almost sexual, impulsive, unstoppable drive to work and to succeed.

Of course, at the time, I was largely motivated to show an ex-girlfriend I hadn’t gotten over that she was a fucking idiot for X, Y, and Z. Long story short: I got her back once I succeeded, and – poof – my motivation was gone.

A year and some change later, and she was too.

I’m not here to write my biography, but this is my story. So, onward I go.

Two years later, I would fall in love again.

In short, this love and I shared different values on material things and ambition and she did a lot to bring me down to earth, which helped shape me into the man I am today; unfortunately, however, I see now that I had adopted and shaped my outward beliefs in a manner that really was not authentic to me, but, rather, were designed to conform to her wants and my want to make her happy.

Yeah, I learned that lesson the hard way.

Today, a year and some change out of that relationship, which would span three of the more difficult years of my life (Due to my own bullshit), I once again am looking to get back in touch with the kind of motivating forces that lead me to work so hard that I nearly burst my bladder. That is how bad I want to succeed again today. But I know, the desire has to be authentic.

From 27 to 30, I tried telling myself I just wanted self-actualization.

I tried fitting my beliefs into Maslow’s model, as if I were an altruistic saint in waiting, ready to become the perfect version of myself.

But what happens when what you think you want isn’t what you want?

What happens when you are fucking lying to yourself about who you are?

As it says in Matthew 6:25: No man can be faithful to two masters.

“Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”

But I tried.

Although, however hard we may try, the soul cannot betray itself.

Period.

The next big thing in my personal growth happened last summer as I was going through the breakup with Bunny, when I ended up with a severe cause of MRSA, which brought me to a place where I was pretty sure I would die [2]. Thank G-d I did not [3].

In the wake of my recovery, I had what you may call an identity crisis, or a kind of re-evaluating of my life, as often happens to those who brush up against their mortality.

It was following this when, I took a large sheet of paper, and on the top half, wrote: What Am I, and on the bottom: What Do I Pretend to Be?

The result looked like this:

What Am I?

  • a writer
  • a hippie
  • a dreamer
  • an introvert
  • a lover
  • bookish

 What Do I Pretend to Be?

  • a success
  • an extrovert
  • a startup guy
  • happy / social / cool

Following this, I rejected all of the things I listed under the bottom half – not realizing at the time they were a healthy part of my ego and persona. This, however, was in a sense good because I got to spend a lot of time cultivating and nourishing the introverted-bookish-writer-hippie-lover-dreamer aspects of my soul, which I had repressed in an effort to feed my ego / persona.

I spent a considerable amount of time being alone, writing, snorkeling, journaling on the beach at sunset, and kind of just withdrawing into myself in the wake of such a tumultuous period (End of a three year relationship coupled with blood-poisoning).

In the months that would follow I would slowly and progressively get to know myself again, and in many ways for the first time. And what I came to realize is that I wasn’t just the introverted-bookish-writer-hippie-lover-dreamer – I was, in fact, also the extroverted-successful-happy-social-cool-startup guy. And as I came to see life in and through altered perceptions, my perspective allowed me to see that I could be both, and much more.

Leading me to today where I view my brain as a kind of computer, my consciousness as the software, and my soul as the programmer.

The ego is no longer in charge, although, it’s there. In a word, I am happy. In another, I am whole.

And under this computerized model of cognition, I want everything, because I know anything is possible.

It was a major shock to realize I had created all the bullshit I faced. But it was freeing.

Now that I can see through my own perception, I want to program myself for optimum happiness. And not under some limited model – sorry Maslow [4].

Hence, I have been doing a lot of research on motivation.

I want to program myself to fulfill my potential; however, I know that in order to do that I need to get in touch with my deepest, most burning desires. I also know that what worked in the past is not an option today, for reasons known entirely to me. So I set out to discover what would make my gears turn with the efficiency of a well-serviced timepiece.

And it was in my research that I came across something I thought might help me uncover my underlying beliefs and keys to my motivation, leading me to write tonight.

Previously, in examining human motivation, I’ve looked at Maslow’s Hierarchy, Alderfer’s ERG theory of human motivation, and Manfried Max-Neef’s model; however, while each provided me with insights into myself, none unlocked any major doors for me beyond helping in facilitating my understanding that I can be who I want to be. 

But this was the question I had to answer [who I want to be], which I feel I have; for, I know today what I want to become. And it’s big. It’s the life of my wildest dreams.

Yet, still, I know I need to be completely clear about all the underlying forces that will compel me to achieve the things I want to accomplish in the coming weeks, months, and years.

Admitting to yourself what you want is important; however, I believe that the real key is in knowing why.

There are a lot of people who seriously want to become multi-millionaires or even billionaires; however, I believe the biggest difference between those who actually become wealthy and those who simply let their goals remain unfulfilled is not in potential, but in strength of will; those people who succeed are driven by strong feelings. And I believe that the power to change your life requires a big why.

Returning to my research as it might help me honestly uncover my why, I came across Steven Reiss’ 16 Basic Desires Theory.

But before I get into that, I want to talk briefly about intrinsic vs. extrinsic motivation. This has been a big topic in the business world and the academic study of motivation; however, I think it is flawed, and let me explain why.

Essentially, the idea of intrinsic vs. extrinsic motivation is the idea that the most powerful motivators are internally oriented, whereas weaker motivators are external. This idea was outlined in the mainstream in Daniel H. Pink’s Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us.

In the book, the author writes what many reviewers describe as an almost academically dry summary of why money and other external rewards are not effective in motivating employees (Hmm… hedonic treadmill), but rather, autonomy, mastery, and purpose are the keys to motivating people.

The argument for these so called intrinsic motivators, is that they are stronger driving forces for most people, which is probably true; however, the problem I run up against is that motivation and desire are complex, and thus what may be an extrinsic motivator for one person could be an intrinsic motivator for another. So, the problem with intrinsic vs. extrinsic motivation is not so much in the concepts per se, but in how they are understood via example. For instance: money is often listed as the chief extrinsic motivator, while autonomy, mastery, and purpose are the main intrinsic motivators; the problem here is that money may enable a person to achieve the latter, and thus the model fits generalizations and statistical averages more than individuals. I think if you are designing a corporate culture, the ideas of extrinsic vs. intrinsic rewards are valuable tools, but if you are designing a life, they are matters of mere semantics.

A better model for me would simply be to categorize motivators as external or internal, i.e., do these come from someone else, or are they my reasons for wanting success. I’ve made the mistake of adopting another’s intrinsic motivators, and it was highly noneffective, as I have told.

What I have begun to ask myself, what I have begin to do, is to admit my innermost, greatest, most authentic desires to myself – something society does not cultivate you to do [5].

But still, it’s not very in-depth; although, the idea of qualifying desire via a an internal vs. external litmus test to determine whether it is an authentic product of yourself or someone else, i.e., a lover, society, your parents, etc., seems to me one of great value [6].

So, what tool do we have less to define, classify, examine, and understand our desires?

Enter: Steven Reiss’ 16 Basic Desires Theory.

From Wiki:

Starting from studies involving more than 6,000 people, Professor Steven Reiss has proposed a theory that found 16 basic desires that guide nearly all human behavior.

The 16 Basic Desires [7].

  • Acceptance, the need for approval
  • Curiosity, the need to learn
  • Eating, the need for food
  • Family, the need to raise children
  • Honor, the need to be loyal to the traditional values of one’s clan/ethnic group
  • Idealism, the need for social justice
  • Independence, the need for individuality
  • Order, the need for organized, stable, predictable environments
  • Physical activity, the need for exercise
  • Power, the need for influence of will
  • Romance, the need for sex and for beauty
  • Saving, the need to collect
  • Social contact, the need for friends (peer relationships)
  • Social status, the need for social standing/importance
  • Tranquility, the need to be safe
  • Vengeance, the need to strike back and to compete

And from Reiss’ website:

What are basic desires?

Basic desires are fundamental psychological impulses that define an adult’s personality. Professor Reiss identified 16 fundamental aspects of motivation which capture what any one individual is striving for and what is really important to him or her….

An example: the desire for Status

‘Status’ shows how much respect an individual pays to people with a social status they consider to be desirable. Those motivated by status aim to identify themselves with a high social standing, and express this in the clothes they wear, the way they behave, the titles they adopt etc.
People with a weak basic desire for status, on the other hand, have an urge for social equality. They respect other people regardless of background, title or other status symbols.

The importance of the basic desires in practice

There are three essential points to bear in mind regarding the practical application of the theory of the 16 basic desires:

  1. Each basic desire can be a performance driver.
  2. Basic desires which are either particularly strong or weak in an individual are equally strong performance drivers.
  3. A basic desire never exists in isolation; the combination of basic desires is important.

The following graphic is also available as a download.

reiss profile

In looking at these, we get a broad scope of containers in which we can understand and classify our desires.

From here, I am going to be using the Reiss model, and making a spreadsheet, listing my own desires under each of the 16 Basic Desires.

What I hope to accomplish in doing this, is a true understanding of my soul’s greatest and most powerful desires.

It’s important to note rule no. 1 from the essential points taken from Reiss’ website, listed above:

  1. Basic desires which are either particularly strong or weak in an individual are equally strong performance drivers.

Revisiting the Reiss example for Status we learn more about how a “weak desire” might function:

People with a weak basic desire for status, on the other hand, have an urge for social equality. They respect other people regardless of background, title or other status symbols.

Again, I am learning here, thinking aloud. This blog might in a sense be seen as my personal cloud computer where I hack my software, which is exactly what I am trying to do.

I’m eager to begin spread-sheeting my desires, as boring as that might sound, but for me it’s a kind of auditing tool, with which I can discover the things that make me tick.

With that said, I am off to open Excel.

If you’ve read this far, here’s a cookie:

7Saturdays

Oh wait, does that not motivate you?

How the fuck am I supposed to know, I don’t even know what motivates me [8].


To find out what is truly individual in ourselves, profound reflection is needed; and suddenly we realize how uncommonly difficult the discovery of individuality in fact is.

– C.G. Jung


Footnotes

  1. I have no doubt I too have been someone’s wrong person, as I certainly know I’ve been the guiltier party.
  2. “Just so you know, there is a God.” – One of my attending nurses.
  3. Well, G-d and the three different courses of antibiotics I took.
  4. “I’d rather be whole than good.” – Carl Jung
  5. After all, look at how disparagingly people have come to judge those in recent years who possess great wealth. Note: this is a topic unto itself, but one I have no desire to write on, as I only write about things I am seeking a deeper understanding of.
  6. Perhaps other people know themselves, and the goals and desires they live are 100% authentic, but I somehow doubt it.
  7. Can someone please make a list of The 16 Basic Bitch Desires… (Maslow’s pyramid as starting point… ; )
  8. This is said only partly in jest, but it really is a fascinating thing to me to put together all of this. Because it’s really exciting. I mean, ultimately, it’s about living your dreams while you are alive. At least, that’s what I’m doing. That’s my cookie.

Willow and Jaden Smith, Fuck Motivation, and a Healthy Self-Confidence

I’ve previously featured their father, Will, as one of my real life inspirations; so it’s no surprise to begin this entry tonight by writing about his two terrifically well-adjusted children, Willow and Jaden, whom I think are awesome.

In a word, they are that rare thing among people – individuals – those fine persons capable of thinking and acting for themselves, on their own behalf.

I had previously heard Jaden’s music before and thought it was good. I also greatly enjoyed reading the Willow and Jaden interview published by the New York Times, in which they talked about everything from the theory of relativity, to quantum mechanics, Prana energy, and nonduality – not particularly mainstream topics for musicians – leading Billboard to describe the interview as “totally bonkers” – an opinion that others were quick to follow.

I realize, however, that when people call something crazy, often they are describing something they do not understand – unfortunately, crazy gets taken at face value all too frequently and, as a result, people fail to question something that deserves a second look.

Thankfully, we who are seekers and thinkers have no problem giving crazy it’s fair due.

Excerpt from aforementioned NYT interview:

I’m curious about your experience of time. Do you feel like life is moving really quickly? Is your music one way to sort of turn it over and reflect on it?

WILLOW: I mean, time for me, I can make it go slow or fast, however I please, and that’s how I know it doesn’t exist.

JADEN: It’s proven that how time moves for you depends on where you are in the universe. It’s relative to beings and other places. But on the level of being here on earth, if you are aware in a moment, one second can last a year. And if you are unaware, your whole childhood, your whole life can pass by in six seconds. But it’s also such a thing that you can get lost in.

Read the entire Times piece, here.

Pretty abstract thinking for two teenagers (I think 14 and 16 at the time of the article).

Tonight, Willow caught my attention here, in a filmed interview/discussion with Chance The Rapper, as part of the Uncapped series by Vitamin Water and Fader Magazine. In the clip, I came across an interesting soundbite from Willow, containing a very Jungian sounding description of feminine and masculine dynamics (from 45 secs to 1:08):

“Having a brother is such an amazing experience, especially when you’re a girl – you’re just like yin and yang – like when you can really look at the masculine in him and the feminine, and then you can look at yourself and be like, ‘the feminine in you and the masculine’, you guys become one, and you can just like go back and forth – but that’s how it’s supposed to be with men and women.”

It’s great to hear someone in the mainstream spotlight who is still so young talk about the intersexuality of the soul, as described by Carl Jung in his writings on the anima / animus – an idea I didn’t discover until I was 27.

This prompted me to continue listening, and I enjoyed coming across the following soundbites as much as I did the first:

My mom’s favorite thing to tell me when I’m being really indecisive is, “Do you boo-boo, and nobody else can do you like you”, and that’s the best part about being unique and being on this earth. The universe is the unknown, “the uni-verse”, the “you-niverse” that’s within you, is unknown. Like how can you even know anything about the deepest parts of yourself.

And on the topic of hustle:

Hustle means to me that you have a goal, and you’re going to do whatever it takes to get to that goal. It’s not tunnel vision because you can see what’s going on around you, but, you know that like, you’re focused, you’re like I’m getting this and nothing’s going to stop me from getting what I need to get in my life. 

One of the reason’s I enjoy Willow’s perspective so much here is that it reflects my own newly evolved views on reality, success, and motivation. Namely that, motivation isn’t a thing. Let me expound upon this briefly:

Fuck Motivation.

For a long time I thought I simply lacked motivation, and that motivation was the key to me believing in myself, which would be the key to my success – if I could just get motivated enough. But I was missing a key piece of the puzzle, which, in light of, I see now why I failed to succeed.

What I ended up grasping, which led me to a new understanding of how reality operates, is just that we can do anything. Anything we are capable of doing we can do. And our personal potential is the only limit to our capabilities, our reality. It’s hard to describe now how I felt before, but I just spent so many mornings listening to motivational stuff, just believing that if I could believe in myself enough, I could succeed.

But I didn’t.

No matter how much motivational stuff I listened to, deep down I just couldn’t shake my perspective, I couldn’t fool myself into believing I could have the things I wanted.

I, of course, realize now, and I can admit to myself now, that my goals were completely impotent, because I lacked the confidence in myself to be successful (As well as true, burning desire).

In hindsight, I think the motivational videos were keeping me stuck. They were perpetuating the idea that motivation is something we need from others, and they were perpetuating the idea that motivation is about believing in yourself – as if we should need a professional to teach us how, as if we shouldn’t naturally; as if motivation were an intermittent thing we needed to dose ourselves with, like caffeine.

No. Motivation is bullshit. Confidence is bullshit.

Not as ideas in themselves, but as we have come to understand them – as we have been sold on them – they are pure crap. Bullshit.

Motivation as something we can get from outside of ourselves is bullshit.

Confidence as something based on what others think of you, also bullshit.

Fuck your motivational speech. Fuck your opinion of me.

I do not need to wake up and tell myself “I can do it.”

I know I can do it.

I know that if it’s not impossible then it’s possible – and if it is possible, then I can do it.

This isn’t motivation, this is just fact.

Do not rely on motivation to believe in yourself. You don’t need it. You should believe in yourself because you are a rational being – you don’t need any other permission to believe in yourself. You exist. Your potential is a thing. Nothing else is needed…

Well almost. You need desire.

Motivation as inspiration is not a thing. Desire is.

My efforts to find motivation in a million and one different motivational speakers did very little for me beyond make me feel like I needed to keep listening…

It was only when I started to explore my why, that I became motivated in the true sense, in that I had a significant enough reason to take action.

Does a lion need motivation to hunt? No; she hunts because her hunger is strong enough to motivate her to hunt; her desire for food is stronger than her fear or her laziness.

Humans are the only creatures who are gullible and insecure enough to think that we need a reason for our reasons. Of course, don’t tell this to the motivational business. Lord knows how big the self-improvement business is. And it is a business. It serves a need. A perceived need.

Note: I mean how fucking egotistical do these motivational people need to be to think they are the one to deliver someone from their lack of belief in themselves by telling them how important it is to believe in themselves. I mean, I’m sure you guys mean well, but give me a fucking break – come on… fuckoouttahere with that snakeoil.

Do you think Warren Buffet is looking in the mirror in the morning going, You can do this Warren. Fuck no. He would see that as silly. He’s looking in the mirror and thinking of the best way to do what he’s going to do; he already knows he can do it, he already gets how life works on an action / reaction basis. He is beyond the idea of having to believe in himself, and, like so many other wildly successful people, he is not trapped by the false belief that he could succeed, if only he believed in himself enough. A man like Warren Buffet, or anyone pursuing their desires in a pragmatic and bold enough manner, knows that success is the result of action, not belief. Of course, I’m not saying belief isn’t required, but all that is needed is a healthy belief in one’s-self – something few people posses.

A healthy belief in yourself is simply an understanding that limiting your life because of a lack of belief in yourself is irrational. Period.

This, I assert, is the biggest difference between the way rich people think, and the way poor people think. And before you stop me and tell me money isn’t everything, let me just remind you of another difference between rich people and poor people: for them, in their game of life, money is just a way of keeping score. Now, I’m not saying that Avicci [Worth $60 Million
] is the best DJ in the world, but he doesn’t suck (listen to the whole song, not just the long monotonous intro, and tell me from 1:09 to 2:09 you didn’t get the feels), and to get to where he is today, he [Avicci] most surely possessed a healthy belief in himself.

And I’m not saying it [a healthy belief in oneself] is something someone necessarily gets from birth (Although, I do think wealth consciousness is a thing, often passed generationally, in the same way poverty consciousness is.) I think we all, and often the most successful people, have to find it ourselves. This is what the in the wilderness part of the heroes journey is about. It is, to paraphrase the immortal words of Joseph Campbell, entering the cave we fear, to find the treasure we seek. 

The cave is of course, our own darkness. But once we emerge from it (As wonderfully written and acted in this Awesome music video), no one can take our treasure from us. Once you have a healthy, rational belief in yourself, grounded in a pragmatic and logical understanding of reality – no one can take it from you. No one can tell you you don’t deserve something or that you can’t do something, because you see; you come to understand, that is just their opinion – their reality.

As I’ve come to see this year, life is a game of potentials – but it is won by wills. The human will, this is something innate and powerful. Only a poverty-consciousness stricken person would stifle their will because of a lack of a healthy belief in themselves.

If I could write a not to my younger self, I would say, forget believing in yourself, instead, seek to understand how reality works. 

There are no limits in reality (beyond the laws of physics).

The only possible limiting factor of your success is you. Period.

I look back on all those early morning walks on the beach, listening to Les Brown tell me “I am going to make it!“, and I realize I was caught up in a false paradigm.

Now that I understand how life works, how human potential is an innate measure of capability, I see that I didn’t need motivation. I needed desire.

Desire, dreams, the things you want deep down in the bottom of your soul, these are the only thing that can ever motivate you. Everything else is just noise. Somebody selling you on the belief that you need something you don’t posses.

And your confidence, how you feel about yourself, this is your right. The idea that what people think of you should influence your opinion of yourself, this is horseshit. The only excuse reason you ever need to be confident is your own desire to be happy. Period.

You’re like, I’m getting this and nothing’s going to stop me from getting what I need to get in my life.

Reading the excerpt from Willow’s quote above, I get that she understands life like I do.

Because I’m getting this, and nothing is going to stop me from getting what I need to get in my life.

And seriously, if you didn’t click the “Awesome music video” link, watch it now:

I’ve really come to understand that no external motivation can work for me. My motivation is my desire. And desire begins in the mind.

Bonus: Here is some food for thought desire for me:

p.s. Consider anything I’ve previously written on the topic of motivation usurped.

“The question isn’t who’s going to let me; it’s who’s going to stop me.” – Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

Earl Nightengale quote

 

To Be Okay

https://soundcloud.com/cderamos/brian-eno-the-big-ship

This year I have become myself.

Or, maybe, I have just crystallized into something whole, maybe I simply feel complete now that I know that this is as whole as I will ever be. alone.

And in all my solitude, in all my hours burning candles, in all my facing of myself, I’ve finally become someone who does not need anyone else to validate my own existence.

Lawrence Black: serial monogamist. Wannabe prince to those who shall remain nameless, those who are now blameless, to those who are, in my estimation, at least, changeless and perfect. And I lived through them, I saw myself through their eyes – for better and then for worse – until the bitter end.

And between those starts and ends, I was never a man unto myself, I was never okay – just okay – I was never okay; I was never okay – not on my own, at least.

And now I am [okay].

Now I am living through myself for the first time.

And for the first time, I am living for myself.

For this life is mine.

It is a wondrous thing to be okay, to know that regardless of whether or not anyone else does, that you yourself know, you know who you are; for to know who you are is to be okay.

Goodnight Moon

Each day, we have but one day.

And reality is as real in the moment as it is false in others.

Sometimes, we merely need different mirrors in order to see beyond ourselves.

This weekend I saw beyond my own [mirrors], which gave me a glimpse into my future – the life I want.

And this life is mine.

I no longer wish to be smart. I no longer desire to impress myself.

All I want is honesty.

All I love is beauty.

And the only beauty is in being honest with yourself.

Goodnight moon.

 

Journal: Born and Raised

Note: I foolishly came across an old email today that chagrined me. Thankfully writing this while listening to John Mayer’s ‘Born and Raised’ has somehow grounded me and made me feel better. Amen.

6 June, 2015

I woke up today and had a yogurt smoothie and I then I did the dishes.

After reading on the sand nearby, I walked to the library, where I volunteered for the afternoon and bought a few books.

After a run, I had dinner and took Thomas Moore’s Care of The Soul down to the water where I watched the evening pass into night.

And now I watch the lights shimmer upon the water’s surface. And I think of the night ahead: Ill bake scrumpets (Anyone who comments asking for the recipe shall receive it) and read. Then a spiritual documentary before bed, where I will think of the near future. Soon I’ll be closer.

Soon I’ll have a place in El-Lay that I’ll pace, barefoot in my jeans, shirtless, watching my records spin.

And maybe I’ll have no one to invite over. And that’s okay. I’ll have a garden to tend to; a soul that lives on books and prayer and solitude near the water’s edge. I’ll cook dinner and I’ll receive emails. I’ll stretch and look at the ceiling, happy, hoping my red Persian rug covers the floor where my children will play. And I’ll go to sleep marveling at the wonder, instead of just wondering, because thou mayest.

And I’ll awake to a vanilla sky and look over at my Count of Monte Cristo poster, handsome in it’s frame. And I’ll get out of bed after reciting my gratitudes and my creed. Maybe I’ll shower, maybe I won’t.

And I’ll make a yogurt smoothie. And I’ll go to the gym, and I’ll stop at the bookstore after. And I’ll buy a t-shirt at The Promenade. And I’ll go home, and I’ll write over cold steak. And I’ll call my mom. And I’ll listen to Simon and Garfunkel, or maybe Peter Gabriel, and I’ll shower. And I’ll get ready for my date. And we will talk about our days and our careers. And we’ll come back to my place for gelato and a movie. And we will make love. And I’ll be born and raised.

p.s. If you don’t keep a journal, do your soul a favor and start one. It’s an absolutely wonderful balm for the spirit.

The Storm

Wow. What a year it has been. It’s as if I am back in the good graces of the angels.

I can’t fathom what I must have done to deserve this. This year felt like remembering.

All that I have been, all that counted – all that I am; everything that matters in my heart has crystallized, and I feel better than I have in a long time.

2013 and part of 2014 would prove to be a very neurotic time for me – just a period of trying to think my way out of things. There were bleak times, times dim enough to only be seen in hindsight. At one point there was so little light entering the aperture of my soul I was spiritually dead. You see, I was trying to solve matters of the heart with my head. Of course all that came of that approach was angst – existential masturbation, the thinking man’s enemy.

Consider the preceding paragraph a compressed version of events. The ultimate outcome however, having been that I underwent a kind of rare quantum change that only occurs once or twice in a lifetime – if at all. My chrysalis – a great unscrambling of an egg, consciousness untangling itself, brand new neural networks – biodigital jazz. Like putting my soul in a cosmic rock tumblr: in goes a Jackson Pollack, out comes a Monet. From Tom Odell’s Another Love, to Ed Sheeran’s Kiss Me – angst to romance – I fell back in love with life and my heart grew.

My heart grew.

I can’t elucidate beyond those three words, because no other metaphor can do it justice. So here I sit, big eyed and dumb, knowing that numb is the new deep.

And it’s blissful, but I’m frightened.

It’s the fright of discovering that seemingly eternal island of inner peace within yourself but fearing the tide might rise and you’ll find yourself underwater again.

You see, I’ve never said I’d never go back there – but now I’m ready to look back and declare that I’ve been to a place I don’t ever wish to return to. I’m still scared because I am still scarred. But I’m following my intuition now, something I haven’t consciously – or rather, something I haven’t bravely done for about four years. That hurts to admit, but it’s true – I spent about four years brooding – complex and angry and all alone, even when I wasn’t. It was a hell of a cave. Deep and dark as fuck.

So tonight I’m writing because I am scared of my intuition letting me down. That’s probably my deepest fear. I don’t ever want to go back there – to that magicless place – zemblanity. Total fucking suffering, unbelievable mediocrity.

Despite the fear, I am reminding myself, my intuition has never been wrong. Of course, there are times where I have made errors in judgement (also known as lessons learned), but as far as relying purely on intuition, I can’t ever recall an outcome that wasn’t opaquely intuited beforehand – that’s why it’s called intuition.

You see my dear reader, life is really like one of those choose your own adventure books. Follow your intuition and you can’t go wrong. Follow fear, and doubt, and all things unholy and you will end up fighting giants, playing the game of life on hard mode. But, unlike in the choose your own adventure books where you can take a mulligan on a bad shot, in real life, you don’t get to turn back the pages and do things differently. There is no second time around. Gatsby was wrong. So, you either learn to write the story of your life with great care – with a conscious awareness and an attention to the process, or you simply never wake up, never realizing that this is your story.

And I have awoken, I know this is my story. Infinite possibility. So that’s what I’m doing, I’m trusting the process, learning to sail it one horizon’s tack at a time.

I’m trusting that a fresh dawn will follow the darkest nights and this is a self-fulfilling prophecy. My thoughts and attachments are no more than clouds in this sky, and the squalls come and go, but the sun shines eternal behind it all. It’s a beautiful thing to trust in the power of a new day, because when you really do, you realize that each moment is a new dawn. As is said in one of my favorite movies – “Every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around”.

It’s just that when you do find yourself in that dark night of the soul, you don’t ever think the sun is going to rise again. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in The Crack Up, “In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.” And so it was.

But I never saw the ‘transformation’ (for lack of a better word) that would come of it. I had hoped for a comeback of sorts, and I held fast to the belief that things would one day be better, but I eventually forgot what hoping felt like. And as forgetting goes – I didn’t know that I had forgotten, I just eventually ended up holding onto a semblance of ambition, a thread of destiny hanging before me. I clung to it without knowing what lie on the other end of this thread, I just … well – frankly, I don’t even wish to recall what it was like. (I’ve spent months pushing out the kind of existential diarrhea that only befalls writers and creatives.) Let’s just say I didn’t see the man I could be. I didn’t see myself capable of transcending what felt like all of existence.

But I did; I came out of the storm a changed man. Not a different person – just different, more true to who I am. Vastly more aware of what that is.

“Once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” – Haruki Murakami

The storm is a humbling yet empowering experience. I just wish I could have said to myself at the time, Don’t worry man, you’ll make it out of this, but I can’t tell you how many times I just closed my eyes and imagined going deep underwater to a place that felt separate from my experience.  That kind of attempt to escape presence – there are no words for what that is. It’s what I did though. I closed my eyes and imagined going deep into a blue underwater cave. Perhaps a kind of waking dream of sorts – going beneath the surface to escape the storm. Whatever it was, it was all I could do at times to be with myself.

But now I am here.

storm

I’ll let the beautiful poetry of Seinabo Sey close me out.

There’s a conclusion to my illusion
I assure you this
There’s no end to this confusion if you let it wish you well
-Soul to sell
Highest bidders, can’t you tell what you’re getting?
There is a light to all this darkness, I will tell you this
There’s redemption in you asking them just why it is
Some answers are better left unspoken when you know you ain’t getting any younger

Flash Fiction: The Arrival

He awoke tired and sluggish as any other day. There had been so many barren days in this untold chapter of his life. So many unfolded tears and so much frustration had amassed within him that his quiet corner of the world now felt like an island. His thoughts had marooned him there, and like coconut water they merely sloshed about, seemingly without a purpose.

Years later he would look back on this time, saying, I had wanted more than anything, just to cry, just to weep. But the tears never arrived, so I just kept waiting.

And so the day passed without event, without anything to distinguish it from the other thousand equally drab days before it.

That evening another tasteless meal was had, followed by a cigarette on the porch stoop. Afterwards, he sat up staring into his computer screen. Typing, clicking, scrolling. He looked up only to glance at the tiny gap between his curtains and the outside world. It was dark now, but this only came as a small surprise to him. Night swallows day, he thought to himself.

Later that night as he lie on the tiny couch that served both as a settee and a bed, he suddenly was overcome with frustration. There was no singular target to his ire but he felt confounded, he felt conflicted, and he felt overwhelmed with a lack of understanding for his life. Why this night, why things had become like this.

He rose up and quickly paced a circle in the small room, saying aloud: “Are you kidding me”. But then he sat down and reclined back onto the settee.

The night crept on long and slow and silent, and he hated it – the dimly lit room, the softly playing CD in the background that had for so long repeated itself that it grew to sound like silence to him – he hated everything. And he lie there busy doing what had always kept him busy at night – his gears were grinding, and he was thinking about all the outcomes that had driven him here and all the possibilities that might free him. He was busy drifting in the space between tired resignation and purposeless anxiety.

And that’s when it happened: suddenly he found himself staring into the open sky. He had blinked to find his eyes open to the starless, blueish-blackness of the city sky. The music was no longer filling the void with silence and the light in the room itself was hardly perceptible. There was nothing but the sudden awareness of his presence under the open sky. And he wasn’t shocked or scared – he felt nothing but alive; all he felt was fearless. But it wasn’t anything like the modern definition of fearless as we know it – it wasn’t anything boldly courageous; it was the rare feeling of being totally unafraid; it was the feeling of being totally alive. He existed in that moment without the human weight of worry or the fear that he, as all men, carry. And in that moment, he knew. In that moment, in that single span of time before he would blink again, he felt a dozen thoughts all giving him the same answer.

When he described this moment a decade later in a return letter to a reader, he called it: The arrival of my North Star.

Prelude to Untitled

The sound of a fork and knife gently rapping against a dinner plate gave me a yearning for the kind of domestic bliss you both love and take for granted at the same time. Hearing this felt like the kind of perfect summer’s breeze whose bliss catches you with the kind of sudden wonder that makes you happy to be alive; it wasn’t just the sound of grilled asparagus being consumed, it was the sound of my hopes and dreams. Within me is the perfect picture of a summer’s dinner on the patio balcony at sunset.

It Was All Glorious

Above audio for listening while reading – so press play.

I just wanna be stoic,
Resolute, determined, driven and heroic.

I wanna remind myself that age is but a number and how old I think, act, and choose to be is determined solely by me.
Hell, even how I look and feel is TBD,
Gym, diet, yoga, meditate, hydrate, skincare/sunscreen – repeat,
– Not forgetting sleep, even superheroes count sheep.

You’ve gotta have a regimen in life.
You can’t be a sea-slug, living each day a mass of nerves,
You can’t live accidentally.

In this life, it’s all up to you – but there’s a few things you must and mustn’t do:

Never compare yourself to anyone, that’s a mental trap – absolute utter sheer complete and total fucking crap.
Don’t look back in anger,
Never feel pain as the years pass, thinking: “Ah, but [back] then the world was my oyster.” The world is as yours today as it ever was – it’s but the attachments of the ego that anchor you to a place you once loved. That should serve only to remind you of what you are capable of.
Winners don’t live in the past.
You are still alive and while you are here you owe the present your complete attention – just as you gave back then,
So, tuck away the past to be grateful for another day and take away the lessons that have made you a much more well-equipped person.
There is nothing you can’t handle, just light up the darkness by letting your undying spirit guide you like a magic candle. Inner peace – it’s very real.

Ambition never dies – it only needs evolving.
There is no such thing as stress, merely the belief we lack the resources to handle a given situation.
Life’s not a test.

Throw the self-pity out with the bathwater you ungrateful, immature, dramatic baby. Are you starving, dying, in solitary, stuck in a mine, on a sinking vessel, trapped against a rock in battle behind enemy lines down to the last five rounds in your sidearm? – or is it simply your ego’s childish and manipulative lying. What the fuck – get a hold of yourself. haha – (never forget to laugh – because you can).

Whatever you are, you can be the best you. You can be the best seventy-year-old that ever spent the day watching bonanza, talking to your children, reading, eating, and going to sleep all alone – and you can do it all with a little smile, because there are joys in your day. And no matter who you are, no one else is limiting the amount of joy you can have. I ate an egg yesterday that felt like the rapture. IT was GLORIOUS!

And is it death you fear?

Let me ask you, what will it be like to go to sleep and never wake up?
What was it like before you ever woke up?
What happens after people die? (Other people are born).
(Above inspired by this – one of my favorite pieces of audio EVER)

Self-pity is the enemy – if I shall be struck dead today, if cancer shall claim me and I never hug my mother and father again – the people I love will be okay. There’s just no other way, the world works that way. And for having known me, the people I love will be enriched and I will have touched the fabric of the universe with a ripple that echoes in eternity. What more legend is there? What more heroism is there then to live and die. The glory. The full glory of the Roman Empire. Did you not remember the Romans? The peasants that lived and held their families as they slept. Thankful for their food, looking at each other and saying: “I love you”. They too wept. They too hated their enemies and died not forgiving those who had hurt them. We all do.

Let me not get carried away, because I have pleasures that those in hospice do not, I have joys. I can take a piss on my own. What a beautiful thing! And I have running water to wash my hands with after! CLEAN water I can drink. No fucking way. This is unreal. A starving child in Nairobi just died. He is lying in the dirt, his distended stomach facing the hot sun; flies on his eyes. He has just died and gone to heaven. And I am him. This is his heaven. Wait – you didn’t think you were more special than he DID YOU?. That’s what I thought, you damned fool. You inglorious bastard.

What are you going to do now? Sit and hate the person who once loved you? Hate those who didn’t love you? What are you going to do? Don’t be an idiot. You may as well be walking on the sun because as far as the ancient Greeks are concerned you are a G-d. And it’s all glorious. You’re living. And you will die. And I will die with anticipation for what’s next. And if nothing is next, then let me be reminded now – that I’m here but for today. I hope your next piece of bread is sweeter. I hope you thank the cosmos the next time you bang your shin and cry out “motherfucker!”. I hope that reading this changes you. I hope it’s nice where you are. I hope you never steal your own joy again. And if there is another side, then when I arrive I will tell them that it was all glorious.

###

Post reading sountrack:

Author’s note: I’ve been composing lots of drafts lately, poems, a short story ‘The Blue Dory’, and a novella ‘Hampton Head’. Happy I took time to do some free writing / poetry tonight.

Poetry and Prose: My Eucalyptus and Le Petit Mort

The Poem: My Eucalyptus

What happens when you no longer live under my moon.

Will your leaves still season each colorful breeze.

Will I find every leaf’s imprint in the shale of my mind.

Your gifts were more than shade and strength to lean upon. Your countenance will last forever.

You were my eucalyptus.

The Prose: Le Petit Mort

The little death. Like a deep breath, you quell the pain of all the guilt ridden sighs in my chest.

You see, sometimes I need a whirlpool for my brain. Normal is just a setting on the dryer she exclaimed. To which I proclaimed, that’s so refreshing I might just love you for it.

But the fairer sex cannot be the only tiny death I find.

You see, I am getting good at Le Petit Mort because I am finding ways to get better at La Vie.

When I was younger I believed that like the song says: ‘it’s better to feel pain than nothing at all’ and after all ‘the opposite of love is indifference’ so how could I have been any different.

I still forget the hangovers now and then and tie one on but thankfully I feel the need to suffer bad decisions only very rarely now and I think I might outgrow it.

I used to get stoned alone when I needed to press the reset button. Sometimes I still do.

Continue reading “Poetry and Prose: My Eucalyptus and Le Petit Mort”

The Inner Peace of Toast

note: this post was written on my iphone and originally began as a facebook status but somehow, as writing does, it grew into something else, which I’ve decided to blog. This free writing approach is somewhat new to me, but I’m apt to repeat it given how therapeutic it felt.

French Onion soup for dinner (Trader Joe’s frozen section), buttered toast with blueberry jam for dessert, now watching the 1934 version of Count of Monte Cristo (streaming from Amazon Prime). I loved the Jim Caviezel version, and this only emboldens my adoration for one of my absolute favourite tales.

Watching these actors reminds me that all of this is just temporary. We’re just here for a little bit and that kind of makes everything really small but at the same time really big.

My real hope is to live spiritually, and to me that just means loving myself and sharing love with others. It’s easy to be apathetic when you think about the finite nature of life, but to a point the meaning and purpose of life should be to be happy and to be at peace. We forget that don’t we?

We suffer so much and anguish over our lives and our goals but we don’t think about the alternatives. We are fairly lucky if we can eat toast and watch a classic movie under a roof. We are all going to die. Ask yourself what is really important. I can’t find another answer than love. Maybe art. I guess it all comes down to using your humanity for the highest good, and good being judged as the quality of how much you can positively affect others.

Remember that comparison is the thief of joy. Not just comparison to others, but to the past or an imagined scenario. Today is all you have. Make love and make art. Even if it’s just with yourself. And don’t take anything too seriously.

I mean having cool clothes and cars and abs might feel like success but the only real success is your ability to experience inner peace.

So the big question of life is what brings you inner peace. For me it’s soup and toast and a good movie. I can’t control everything and I make mistakes and there are things I wish were different, but I can live my life with a consciousness of the following passage from Viktor Frankel’s, Man’s Search for Meaning:

… We stumbled on in the darkness, over big stones and through large puddles, along the one road leading from the camp. The accompanying guards kept shouting at us and driving us with the butts of their rifles. Anyone with very sore feet supported himself on his neighbor’s arm. Hardly a word was spoken; the icy wind did not encourage talk. Hiding his mouth behind his upturned collar, the man marching next to me whispered suddenly: “If our wives could see us now! I do hope they are better off in their camps and don’t know what is happening to us.”

That brought thoughts of my own wife to mind. And as we stumbled on for miles, slipping on icy spots, supporting each other time and again, dragging one another up and onward, nothing was said, but we both knew: each of us was thinking of his wife. Occasionally I looked at the sky, where the stars were fading and the pink light of the morning was beginning to spread behind a dark bank of clouds. But my mind clung to my wife’s image, imagining it with an uncanny acuteness. I heard her answering me, saw her smile, her frank and encouraging look. Real or not, her look was then more luminous than the sun which was beginning to rise.

A thought transfixed me: for the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. In a position of utter desolation, when man cannot express himself in positive action, when his only achievement may consist in enduring his sufferings in the right way – an honorable way – in such a position man can, through loving contemplation of the image he carries of his beloved, achieve fulfillment. For the first time in my life I was able to understand the meaning of the words, “The angels are lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory…”