I don’t want absolute control; I don’t want you to be absolutely mine; I must let you be. The measure you are not mine is the measure you are alive and real. I must erase these ideas from my ideas of desire. You are not mine, but I would like you to be mine on your own accord. I do not need you and I must be compassionate, forgiving, and exciting. I must not be sad if you do not come to me because it is the sign that you are finally your own person and being. I desire to give you pleasure, so I forfeit control and power, to throw control and power to you, and to see if you will return them. I must remember this is the purpose of all this. I must transcend my ego. It is surrender and acceptance of the other, whatever may happen.

Since Friday, I went hurling to destruction. Yesterday was the worst. I was robbed of all motivation, energy, and meaning. I had screamed and smoked until the linings of my lungs were stripped raw. If it’s truly futility, then why bother? The truth hurts a lot. But I thought about it, and this is nothing new; I’ve been made the devil, the black sheep, the bastard. My family has done this to me all my life. My friends have done this. I grew up a loner. A memory: I had saved weeks to buy my sister a book from her favorite series on her birthday. The day of I told my mom about the present and asked her not to tell my sister. And the next moment I see and hear my mom telling my sister. This destroyed me as a kid and I grew so angry I began screaming how could you. My sister then got mad at me saying I’m ruining her birthday by being so angry. I was so sad and destroyed, I ran away from home. I spent the night sleeping in a slide at the park. And so it is that I’m the devil again. I am the bastard that needs to be exiled because I’ve been brave enough to do things and embraced things about myself. I just have a lot of love and I’ve done bad things because of it. But I keep going back to this side of myself. The best part is I love this part of myself now. I finally accept this as uniquely me; I can’t not love you. Even when all truths point to no…

I have to just let go whatever I’m holding onto and see where the waves are hurling me toward. And maybe I’ll wash up somewhere better, maybe it’ll simply be different.

Echo Chamber

The ideas of artists throughout Echo Park; heartbreak, paranoia, and sadness –laughter, laughter, and laughter. At night, we wandered through the streets, absorbing their ideas for they were the same ideas we’ve shared with one another. We met two guys at a comedy show, one traveling and rock climbing, another a new dad. The comedians, all 5, talked about being newly single. I like to think half of the world carries heartbreak with them. My day was an echo chamber of ideas I’ve been brewing in the storm of my mind. The strumming of a guitar. A singer admits she’s new to playing, but she has a great voice. She sang of heartbreak: If I traveled the world… would it be worth it to know you’ve moved on something along those lines. I wish I remembered better, but it gripped me because I understand her sadness. She smiled at me on the street. Women smile at me a lot with invitations of another world.

We watched Russel Brand’s stand up in the comforts our of home, in which our Christmas Tree still sits in plastic wrapping. I’m paralyzed to open it, for the fear of memories of Christmastime together would come flooding out of me. Brand talks about consciousness and how being a father revealed this great truth of being alive. Carnal. Primal, something from the depths of our being seeps out. Later as we sat by a blinding Christmas tree in a plaza, an insane hobo asks for a cigarette and starts babbling crazy shit like the depths of his being erupting out.

Earlier in the day I hiked with Khari where we stumbled into a nature conservatory. A hut sat by a fountain where water trickled into a lotus pond. I sat in that hut, atop a lone stump positioned for meditation. And I looked above to see light pouring through a hole. It looked like a butthole and there was this tree overhanging. To Khari, I said: “You’ve been alive two years longer than I have. In your experiences, has your expectations and reality ever fully matched up?”

No, he replied, but he said that life was beautiful that way. I smiled and nodded. The good and bad come in waves. You see I’m trying to reset my framework. I wanted to believe in Fate because it meant that there was some sort of order, meaning in this world. But perhaps I have to accept that life is just chaos and surprise. I’ve been swimming against the waves back to you. I drew a fish with the lips, the one you know I always draw, and I drew it riding with the waves, and I smiled. Because maybe it’s time I just ride along with the waves.

Today I woke up from a dream about you. You were leaving our room. You were wearing your black yoga pants. I grab your legs and we playfully wrestle until I brought you face to face with me. “I just miss you is all. I miss my best friend.” I laid there smiling at you, and I watched you leave.

I half disliked that new Ariana Grande song, thank you, next because I kept thinking of how that was how you saw me. But then I was like why can’t I be the protagonist of this song? I’ve loved and lost and I grew so much from it. Meh heh heh. I said I would stop writing sad stuff on here, but I’m ritualistic. Tapering offfffffffffffffafkafai’wiawgm,as

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Better

This blog has become rather stagnant. I want to invest less time in here; it’s like being in my room for too long -the sadness becomes stale. There are projects I want to pursue, and I think I have to invest time elsewhere.

There were two prophetic dreams you had when we were still together. I’m not sure you remember them. When you told me about them, I was incredulous; I would never leave you, I thought. You told me once that you dreamt that I was moving to SF to find myself. You told me you were heart broken. When you told me this, my heart panged. But your dream did happen. I went looking for myself, not in any distances but in the depths of my soul.

Do you remember your second dream? You told me we ran away together and eloped against the wishes of your family haha. I’m not sure what this means… but you had these dreams a year before we broke up. I don’t blame you. I told you before. You have nothing to be sorry about. I was wrong, and I accept the consequences. I don’t know what will happen, I’m starting to understand I have no way of ever knowing. But something in me is saying to keep a place for you. At the same time… I can’t be non-participatory in life; I have to accept things I deny for myself… because often those are things a person needs to grow.

Take care of yourself, and I hope you find happiness and peace.

Honest

When Spencer told me your decision, I felt a stab a pain. My entire body crumbled and I held back tears until they escaped me. It felt cruel that you’ve singled me out as the one person you need to cut away. I thought about all the other times everyone else let you down, how they talked down to you, how they talked shit about you and I was the only one there for you. But I won’t deny it. I won’t fight it. I fucked up a lot. I hurt you so much. I was a cruel, evil monster. I was spineless and impotent. I was weak and angry. I was insane, violent, volatile, and a bad person to be with.  It just really hurts that I’m the one you have to cut away because all the good, all the times I’ve been patient, loving, supportive, and caring, and everything good about myself has been erased. It feels like you’re playing a cruel joke on yourself and me. You know the hardest part about all this time was actually to forgive myself? I was a kid…  And I’m a person. It feels like people in my life forget that sometimes… I’m a fucking person with flaws, strengths, weaknesses, hopes, and fears. Event after all this time you still deny me of that… Instead of the pedestal, you’ve cast me into a shit pile haha (i gotta laugh at this a little). But if it’s a matter of self-respect for you, then I must respect your decision. “I know I’m not completely right when I say this… but it really sucks to be judged by people who haven’t looked as deeply inside themselves and judged themselves as truthfully as I have.” No one in your family reached out to me. They were my family too… I went to my family after the break up and told them my truths. I told them they were a shitty family. I told them they were wrong in a lot of ways, but I want to change that. I told them I want us to be more loving, and I’ll show them by being more loving myself to them… The difference is instead of coming from a place of judgement and blame, I went to them with complete ownership and responsibility, but also a stronger heart to change for the better. And I told them that I was wrong in so many ways, but I’m working on it. I’m working on being a better son, a better brother, a better person…I told them I still love you. They told me they missed you; that they would be happy to see you again -none of that I won’t accept him bullshit. But I accept myself and that’s most important.. It just sucks because I was there at the hospital with your grandpa, I was there talking to Anthony those nights he felt so confused, I was there moving things tirelessly when everyone was calling it quits, calling people about painting, I was there talking to Steph about her anxieties, I was there listening to Alvin about his troubles and we laughed and smoked together. I walked and loved your dogs. I was there at your worst, and I was there at your best. I just have to write this out because it hurts too much to keep in. I love you, and I think you’re scared. I think you’re scared that you haven’t changed enough. And I must respect you, so I’ll stop these feelings somehow; not for myself, but for you. This is the best thing I can do for you… I think there will always be a part of me that loves you, but it hurts to say this… but i think time is taking us in two different direction, especially when you won’t be honest asdlkfjaksldf and I can’t pause my life anymore. I love you. I love you. I love you. I’ll still be there Dec 24th, but I won’t be there after that. And I think you’re making a mistake, but who the hell am I to say that.

I don’t want this to be our song; but this is our song, isn’t it…. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BME88lS6aVY

Will you remember me one day when it’s too late for either of us? I can almost see myself in another person’s arm, and you’re but a distant memory. I must accept your choice because I love you. My capacity for love was always my best and worst aspect… Meh, I can feel myself wanting to be colder, but I know that’s not the person I want to be.

The Hubris of Empathy

Beware the person who claims to be empathetic; empathy can be a very useless thing. Allow me to explain. Empathy allows you to feel another’s emotions, almost like a sixth sense. But feeling exist solely in the individual reality. At that level, it’s the dumbest shit ever; it’s like I feel your pain, so now we have two miserable people. In my experience, many empathetic people are merely crybabies who can’t seem to get out their individual realities. And they consecrate their empathy with such pride, calling themselves empaths. Watch out for these crazy people.

There’s an undeniable arrogance to empathy. It claims to grasp the emotions of other people; in a sense, it claims to feel what they feel, to hurt for them, almost greater and more powerful than a person can feel for himself! But this is hubris. You can sympathize, but one’s pain is like an iceberg. You may feel their feelings, but without having actually lived through the ordeal, without understanding how a person perceived the event, without understanding the trials they lived through previously, you never understand the true scope of their pain. This is hubris. You claim you know a person, but empathy is merely a window into another person’s soul.

So I have listed two kinds of empaths that I dislike: 1. Those who feel other’s emotions, but they’re stuck feeling them in their own heads. 2. Those who exult their empathy as all knowing, all too capable of reading others as if one can know another emotions and feelings better than the individual. And you may ask Why, Alan, are you shitting on people with empathy? Why are you such a hater? Because I was both of these people! And I want to warn everyone who has been cursed with a strong sense of empathy!

Empathy itself is not enough. You must do something about those feelings. You must help them! You must ask and offer, but you must never impose. And you must never fill in the blanks! If you claim to have empathy, then you are an observer. You are a listener, and you will ask questions to further help them process their emotions. But you must also be honest when you have accumulated enough information. That’s the tricky part. You must know the limitations of your judgement, always put it on trial, but you must also trust your judgement when you affirm the facts and your instincts of a person. It’s a weird balance.

Do not be weakened by empathy, rather sharpen it and be brave with it. Too many empathetic people are cowards. You must say your truths, and you must say it in a conducive manner to help others. Otherwise you’re just adding your own shit to their pile of shit.

I began reading a lot about body language. The guiding principle is that there is no absolute body language that illuminates absolute truth. You must first establish a baseline, a dictionary of a person’s movements. When they deviate from that baseline, then you have a hunch of a change in them. This applies to empathy. You must establish a baseline of a person. But this doesn’t necessarily imply you need too much time to do so.

Empathy, instinct, body language: there’s something so primal, animalistic about them. They delve into the unconsciousness, and I’m absolutely fascinated with these things –this Jungian idea that humans have an inherent, universal programming. I guess I’m interested in tapping into that programming. But yeah watch out for empathetic people, a lot of times they’re just oedipal moms, who claim to know everything, who coddles their kids and everyone. Beware these people too. An empathetic person must accept pain and allow other people to hurt, to not fight their battles for them as well, only to help when one can. Loving someone at times means letting them hurt…

 

The Wonders of Being Selfish

It makes little sense, but grant me my selfishness. Grant me my selfishness, and I will grant you yours. Things we denied for ourselves, we can finally grant to one another. Let me return to you, and you’ll see how wonderful it is to be selfish. I want you to be selfish, you who gives tirelessly to all those around you. I know you. I’ve seen you in myself, and I know how you hurt for others. Learn to be selfish for your sake and I will bolster you upon my shoulders like I use to. We will become pillars for one another. You see I learned something; rather I unlearned something. The values our parents and culture preached, they weren’t right. They tried to instill this idea that you have to be selfless –that there is so much more value in giving, and so they create a contract in the form of a relationship; give to them, give them control, give them input, and all the while they guilt you with their obligations. And you give, give, and give until you are nothing. You who had little to give were never in a position to give. You have no substance to the Self. You must be grateful, but gratitude and servitude are two separate entities. Often they are blurred, and perhaps unconsciously blurred. So be as selfish as you can, you who already know how to give to others. You will quickly find that when you indulge your selfish ways, you become all the more capable of giving to others. It is a paradox.

I think this paradox aligns with the idea of living yourself. When I embraced everything my parents told me were bad in this world and wrong about me, I quickly found myself. I spent so much of my life trying to be an ideal that I thought they wanted me to be. Well, I realized I simply cannot. You can only be you. You can only be your affinities. You can only be your weaknesses (that doesn’t mean don’t be aware of them and work on them). And the strangest thing happened when I fully embraced myself. They finally accepted me. I no longer cared for their criticisms because I knew they were wrong. And then I was able to give them something they didn’t even know they needed.

The strangest part is it always stems from love –this desire to shape someone. But you must be careful and watch whether that love transforms into something else. Has it become a matter of power? What about control? Is it dissatisfaction? Beware of projection, intention, and the all too terrible gaslighting. I am fully aware of this fallacy because I have done this evil to you. For instance, sure I intended to help you but how I did it was completely wrong. And we argued based on my intentions. But it should have been about my actions, my words, your actions and your words. Be careful with your mom –I think this is true for how she interacts with you… Because intentions exist in the individual reality, but we must be more aware of the collective reality. It is not up to others to delve into individual realities and grasp the full magnitude of that. That is the hubris of empathy. What was said? What was done? I burned my hand in recognition of this. I had hurt you, and I never will in that way again.

So all this talk about the Self. It is the Jungian idea that the God is where you are not. If you are selfless, embracing your Self will lead you to individuation. If you are selfish, then you will find yourself in others. It’s this whole, constant struggle of balancing between two polarities, and it’s exhausting to be what you do not want to be. But that’s how the shadows grow, and how it consumes you. For me, it consumed me with fire and I destroyed. Only through fire could I understand and transform. A lot of these things are paradoxical; by understanding yourself, you understand others. When you see how ugly you can be, you accept other people’s ugliness. It isn’t abhorrent because it is in you… Humble oneself to elevate oneself.