Thoughts & A Fateful Trip & Smoking Weed with A Spiritual Healer


Lately, faces don’t make sense to me. It’s like my mind can’t process them. I’m looking for you daily, among the faces. And when it’s not you, I feel detached like I can rip the chord from out of the walls.

Life can be very long; I’m trying to enjoy as much of it as I can -especially the waiting. I dance in line. I admire the clouds. I sing to you in my car. And when my mind is turbulent, I write until I’m exhausted.

I consulted a magic 8 ball in a hipster vintage clothing store and it didn’t give me the answer I wanted.


I am a man who cannot be swayed. I have a vision and I know it takes time and effort. I am strong enough to endure the pain. To paraphrase Nietzsche, those with strong wills risk the danger of being stupid because they close their ears to counter arguments.

A Fateful Trip:

I had a good feeling about the trip when I saw this in the first place we went into. Coffee wasn’t great but the cigarette was.


It was one hell of a trip. We talked to so many strangers, and we actually hanged out with a lot of them. It never hurts to ask: ask and you shall receive. Our driver Victoria gave us a bunch of weed, so we wanted to invite her get donuts with us. “This is making my day!” She said laughing. She was kind enough to meet us three hours later after Spencer realized he lost his earphones in her car.

We were running on three hours of sleep, but we made it a goal to stay out. We walked around the city, exploring. I bought you a gift from the Saturday Market because I thought you’d like it. I know I might never get to give it you, but fuck it. The rain had cleared away the day we arrived, but it was still rather cold.  Walter and Joe invited us to their clothing shop to chill and talk. They showed us a bunch of different places. We then wandered around the largest book store in America, when Spencer realized he had lost the tin case I gave him from France that held the caramels you got me. All good though. We trek across town with this angry Russian Driver, when we pick up Scott. The fight is that night, and I’m very excited to watch so Scott, Russian Guy, and I discuss.

Turns out we were too late. Our friendly waitress had already thrown the tin away. “I’m willing to dumpster dive for that tin.” The waitress, her manager, and the group eating are impressed by my conviction to retrieve it, but rules and shit. They don’t let us. We get back to downtown where we chill at a bar. Cigarette after cigarette, we find ourselves in a haze. Shannon and Alyssa, from the bar next door, talk to us about their lives in Portland. We order some sandwiches and decide to stream the fight.

We meet Liz, our host. Turns out she’s this amazing person. She’s a doctor who helps kids correct their speech problems. But she’s also endured a great loss. She’s widowed. I didn’t think too much about it at first, but it almost seemed like we were meant to meet her. She was able to give Spencer new perspective on his loss. She also tells me about abuse, depression, and pain being a part of the human condition when I shared my story. More on this later… We smoked cigs until our lungs hurt. I rolled a shit joint so none of us got high.

Next day, it’s raining. We get a lyft out to the forest, where we zipline from trees rising 150ft tall. It wasn’t as exciting as bungee, but it was cool flying from treetop to treetop with the misty clouds and drizzle. Turns out, no cars go out there. Luckily we befriended a couple from Utah during ziplining. So we drive out to get burgers at a local tavern. “I don’t get country music.” They show me some songs, but I don’t know if I’ll ever understand country music. Thank you Jarren and Brayden for saving our asses from walking an hour in the rain. Happy to have met you guys.


We meet Liz in downtown for the best pastrami sandwich I’ve eaten. At this point, I feel an inexplicable longing for you. They’re drinking and I’m happy to have their company. We end up in this strange hippie hipster part of town where we walked through a giant vintage clothing store. That’s when I found the magic 8 ball. You can imagine how distraught I was. But we consulted it about Liz’s new boyfriend and Spencer’s job prospective. Things are looking good for them! We’re at a bar now, where this dog has grown fond of me. I stood outside in the drizzle with my cigarette. Liz and Spencer seem to have picked up that I’m a little bummed. We head back where we meet Travis, a spiritual healer, who’s also staying at the home.

He teaches me to roll a joint. And we find out this guy is pretty amazing. He advocates for 23 and me, which analyzes DNA. He then makes sense of the results, and then prescribes vitamins, herbs, or food to better regulate people’s bodies and moods. The way he talked about happiness baffled me like shit is my depression really that avoidable that I could have just eaten some of this and that and I’m good? This guy fought through cancer by traveling the world, studying with shamans, healers, and all sorts of interesting people. His whole family had cancer because their town was poisoned. All four of us chill outside with blankets, high out of our minds. It was the Portland experience I needed. Strippers make me sad anyways.

The next day, we get breakfast with Liz and part ways. It almost felt like Spencer and I were meant to meet Liz and Travis. We were both in pain, and interestingly they were both healers/helpers in a way. I shared my thoughts with Spencer and he seemed intrigued by my rather romanticized perspective.

We fly to Vegas for a layover, where we ride the Roller Coaster from New York New York. That shit was horrifying. Worse, my glasses almost flew off my face during the spiral. Worst, I lost Jack’s lucky lighter -best of luck to you, Jack, wherever you are and to whatever you’re doing now. Thankfully, I still have another lighter from him… We eat shake shack, and I’m reminded of the times we came. I miss you, but I try not let the thoughts bog me down. We get home at 12 midnight, meeting a few more people along the way.  Thanks for the travels, and happy birthday, Spencer. Glad you’re my brother.

This song was in my head



Smoking Weed with A Spiritual Healer:

“Yeah, do you know the movie Erin Brockovich. It’s basically that.”

“How are you not just this completely angry person after all that? You’re so mellow.”

“I was angry. I didn’t understand why people could be so careless, maybe even evil. But I realized my anger wasn’t getting me anywhere. I had to let it go. Anger is useless.”

“Sometimes people don’t realize we’re all reaching the same destination on the top of the mountain. One person may be walking through an area with a bunch of trees. And then another person might be standing in pouring rain on the other side. We’re all walking different paths, but we’re a lot more connected than we think.”

“The thing about karmic energy is that you don’t always see the results of it. Your good will sets off a chain of good will that you might not experience immediately, but somehow it reaches you in some way.”

“But how do you know if your actions are even good? Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing a good deed for the sake of doing a good deed or I’m just trying to convince myself I’m a good person.”

“I like that. The fact that you question if you’re doing good is good enough. Maybe in the long run, your good deed isn’t good after all. But that doesn’t take away the good it brought. Someone will still benefit from it. Someone might suffer. I think heaven and hell is right here. All we can do is try to bring more of heaven here.”


“I always wanted to learn some more about chakra, qigong, and energy. I learned a bit from a yogi.”

I think my face lit up. I was so excited I could offer this guy anything. “Yooooo! I learned some qigong when I learned wing chung. I don’t remember most of it, but maybe I can show you something”

“That’d be awesome.”

“Dude I just remembered this one is called Heaven and Earth.”

“Haha dude that’s awesome.”

“This one is like bow and arrow.”

“I feel something about this one.”



“I really have to ask you about something. I was abusive to my ex. I hated myself for it, I burned my hand.”

“Oh let me see.” He laughs. “That’s good. That you can see anytime.”

“Yeah that was the idea.” We laugh together. “What I’m getting from your stories is that sometimes you just have to surrender to your situation. My personality is also that I want to fight for things I believe in. But at the same time, you’re saying that feelings and emotions guide us and they should be listened to. So I’m a little confused. If I think about what’s best for her objectively I think I should stop wanting her and let her live a happy life. But at the same time, I can’t shake these really powerful feelings. So do I surrender or do I act?” I searched for the rain sounds. It felt like my ears were stung and inflamed. I was high out of my mind.

“That’s a good question. I think there’s a way you can do both.  You have to act and surrender. You can tell her your feelings. That’s acting. Tell her you still love her. That way you’re honest with your emotions. But you also have to surrender to the possibility she might not come back. But as long as you tell her you’re open to loving her and that you’re committed to change then maybe karma will reward you. I think you’ll be tested for your anger. Maybe it’ll be something completely irrelevant like some guy cuts you off in traffic. Or maybe you’ll encounter a man being abusive to his girlfriend, and you’ll have to convince him by saying ‘look i know what you’re feeling. It’s not worth it. there’s another way.’ Or maybe one day you two do get together and she hits you. And you’ll have to endure it. You’ll have to say, ‘I understand, and I’m not angry.’ I think you’ll be tested. And if you pass, and you’ve truly change, maybe the universe will reward you. Who knows it might be another relationship with someone completely different too. But maybe you two were never meant to be. Whatever happens, happens. But for now, it’s a matter of time.”

I fell into a deep, restful sleep that night.



Until next time, here’s all of me

“The problem with attachment isn’t you can’t own anything. The problem is not letting go when you’re meant to let go.” Something along that lines. Jordan Peterson said this. He’s awesome.

Breathe in the rain like I breathed you in. I hear the pitter patter, and I’m lost in thought. My insides twist when I think of you with someone else. But I will never blame you. I will never harbor hate if you never come back. I don’t know if this means anything to you, but I believe you’re the one. Not now, but one day. Sure, I’m pretty fucking sad now. But I can wait. I imagine if I had you back in my life right now, I wouldn’t even know what to do; I have forgotten what it was like when I built my life around you. It’s just this terrible longing now. I admit I’d be overjoyed if I saw you. But that’s too easy. I’m not done growing yet, and neither are you.

When I think of love, I think it can go two ways.  I can love many persons in a life time. And this is true and not incorrect in any way. This is reality as I’ve asked many of my friends, family, and people I’ve stumbled across in a sad haze.  But what if I choose you, Pikachu? What if I choose to give meaning to our past, to our many days, to all our fights, pain, laughter, to this powerful sadness I’m feeling for you that I feel I can almost reach your wavelength? This all sounds Gatsby, but hear me out: After all my misadventures, I’ve reached this epiphany of sorts; there’s no wrong or right way to live life. It’s my fucking life. I only have one life, and I’m choosing to wait.

I’ve been delving into Nietzsche and Jung. I had this fear that if I allow time to tear us apart, we will become two very different, incompatible people. This is with the idea that growth and progression is linear. But then I read Jung’s circumambulation:

“I began to understand that the goal of psychic development is the self. There is no linear evolution; there is only a circumambulation of the self. Uniform development exists, at most, at the beginning; later, everything points toward the centre. This insight gave me stability, and gradually my inner peace returned.”

I am me and you are you. Our growth will always be this radiation of our cores. And I understand you at your core. I don’t mean to frighten you when I say that. But I’ve really tried to understand you throughout our years. There’s something about you and I that I can’t articulate. I was drawn to you, as you me. There’s something powerful about that, I think. Back then, I didn’t accept your fragility, so I didn’t love you properly. But that was due to my own insecurities. That’s what I meant when I said, you were never enough because I was never enough.

I was riddled with anxiety that I would walk the same path as my father. In my self-discovery, I had to recognize that I embodied many similar traits to him. He was never satisfied with one woman either, as I’ve learned from my mom. He always looked to others to fulfill him. But it was always with “good intention”. He wanted to help the many women he met. He wanted to provide because that’s how he shows affection. And I’m sure it was ego-driven. My dad embodies many qualities of my shadow; he’s incredibly driven and hard-working. He’s independent, resourceful, and self-sufficient. But he lacks introspection. Interestingly, these are my stronger qualities. I will cultivate these qualities inherent in me, but I will learn to find fulfillment in myself so that I can become a stronger partner.

I’m also learning there’s intimacy available wherever I go. It might not be the romantic type, but I’m finding fulfillment in many other relationships. I’m sharpening my ability to make people feel at ease. I feel as if I can talk to anyone lately. I wear my scars openly and I’m not afraid to share them. When I’m with my family, I can tell I make them happy. I take my mom out to eat as I’ve always wished to. I make my co-workers and Boss laugh, and I’m putting in the work to help them succeed. I’m advising my best friend and he’s a lot more receptive. I really feel like he’s my brother now. I care less what people think of me. I’m shirtless all the time and I look damn good.  Kindness is my strength and my happiness.

Anyways, there’s this Jungian idea that at the end of development, there is the return to the child, but with all the acquired knowledge from the journey. I’m not saying I’m done growing. It’s been a hellish time, but I do feel stronger, braver, and more charismatic than ever. But you are my childhood. I grew up with you and I feel that one day I’ll return to you. At least I hope so with all my being. I feel a lot of pain because I’m not letting you go completely. I think about you every day. I had to lose you to really understand that I wanted you all along. This isn’t to pressure you. Please don’t misinterpret this as a manipulation. I don’t think I can even sway you anymore anyways, and that’s great. I just want you to be happy and safe the most. And if he makes you happy, then I’m happy.

Just know I’m always here for you. It sounds terribly corny, but you’ll always have a place in my heart. I think that’s true for anyone and their exs. That’s why it hurts so much…  And you might never reciprocate these feelings, but that’s some powerfully poetic shit right there (I have thought of becoming a monk) So in the least you’re motivating me to write –sad writer cliché, you know? Take care of yourself. I’m proud of you. I’m always rooting for you. Watch me become something amazing.

awesome still have feelings for you mix

Voxtrot – Warmest Part of Winter

Tell me you love me but don’t say it with words
I wanna feel your body around me
And twenty years of push and pull have left you searchin’ for a name
But maybe I have come here to die
To watch the life go out of my body
Take apart the ugly days and you will never see the sun

I had a name
I let it leave me
I had a plan to settle you in
I am man
I am amazing
Come out come out and let me come in

I’m looking through old photos and I’m laughing. Thanks for the happy memories. You’re right about taking pictures.

And so begins the rewriting process…

There are family stories; there are reasons why people make the choices they make –why they walk the paths they walk. These things hinge upon something imperceptible, yet undeniably powerful –a force, stronger than blood, that can pave the lives of our sons and daughters.

The Mo Rose Family

Deep in the Loud Lands, where the winds carry sound, Andomo Mo Rose sat with his daughter. They huddled together, waiting. There’s a trick to it: you wait for the world to quiet, until you no longer hear the barley fields stir, when the winds have at last died, and only then you project your voice. The timing had to be perfect.

When it was perfect, you can hear a person’s soul captured in time. It was prayer. It was a wish. It was a song. Andomo and his daughter laughed together atop that hill. “Shhhhh. It’s almost time,” He whispered. He became as still as stone. Addy did her best to not move. But she looked up to him with all the adoration a daughter of three could have for her father. Everything silenced.

Had I known you would pass, I’d never leave. Had I known you would change, I wouldn’t have held you that night. Had I known you would become my life, I would have done you better. If only, if only, Oh, if only I’d have known.

The winds carried his voice down the fields. The echo grew louder and louder, and then it was nothing. Andomo propped Addy on his shoulders. He sauntered with a bit of a sway. Addy giggled. She clung to his face for her dear life. She pointed to the house on a hill. “Home, that’s home!”

“Very good. What about that?”


“And that?”


“Right again! Those balloons are going to make everything better here in the Loud Lands. One day we’ll get to leave and see the world.” He stared at the Great White sailing across the sky. Its shadow swooped across the vast fields. He could imagine himself aboard. By then people would want to meet him. He’d be a man of importance and wealth. He smiled to himself.

He tucked the blankets into her shape. Little Addy slept in no time. He stared at her through the door left ajar. His attention shifted. The Mo Rose Manor, his inheritance from his grandfather, Alphonse the First, the Greatest, had sheltered the Mo Rose family for three generations. The dim lights of a late home awakened memories of his childhood, flashes of time he had half-forgotten. He saw himself running down the hall to the bonsai garden, where Alphonse had hand crafted canary cages. The canaries chirped in their prison, and little Domo stared up at the cherry petals pelting down as light as feathers.

“Domo, come here. I have something to tell you.”

He ran to his grandfather. The details of his face was lost in the glaring sun. “Hi Al.” He must have smiled. He remembered smiling.

“Do you remember what happened to your dad?”

“You’re my dad.”

“No. No, I told you before. I’m your grandpa. Your dad is gone.” His armored voice cracked. It was a strange sound to hear for the boy. Domo didn’t really understand why it discomforted him.

“Where did he go?”

“He killed himself.” His grandpa’s eyes appeared beyond the blinding sunlight, his pupils as dark as an eclipse. “Because I left. Because I chose to find that damned tree. That demon cursed us. I wanted to understand why I felt the way I did.” Alphonse wrapped his hands around Domo’s arms. “Listen to me, Domo. One day, I will not be around anymore. You’ll be a man then. But I want you to remember something. Don’t look for the Tree of Madness. Run as far away from it. That’s why we’re out here. We’re all cursed.”

The memory ran its course; Domo only remembered his grandpa’s eyes, his black pupils. The rest was oblivion. He stared at the shadows around the walls. A lengthy sigh escaped him. Tomorrow he’d have to take his cart to the next town to sell his goddamn Fire Juice.

His cart had been loaded with that radioactively red juice. He had breakfasted with his wife, Mei, who stared at him with haunted eyes. She wrapped her stomach, full of life, in an embrace. Andomo stooped down to Addy’s eye level. He held her close. “I’ll be home in no time.”

“When will that be?”

He laughed. “Soon. Soon. Make me proud.”

He whistled a tune he had heard on the static radio. “Miko, let’s go!” He snapped his whip at the air, and the horse began to trudge down the road. It was an endless ocean of barley.







I wrangled with you for some time. I wish I could see you in a better light. It’s hard to love what you hate, but you’re as much me as I am you. You are my mom. You are my dad. You are my depression. My bravery.  My anger. My kindness. My fears. My love. My regret. My caring. My violence. I think I finally understand beyond good and evil. There’s no holistically good nor evil. I’m a person. There’s only my actions, moment by moment. And that’s liberation. I am the ability to change.  I imagine I’m in a jelly cocoon. I’m trying to push and stretch my dimensions, my skin. And it’s a moment by moment effort…


Random Thoughts

There’s a spider that spins a huge web right in front of my door every night.

It wants to eat me. I’m tired of walking into that web. I will be its greatest catch.

If you find me dead with millions of spider bites, just know

Life was OK.


The wind slaps my chest

I’m sticky with sweat, and I’m skating half naked and really bad

But I just don’t care anymore. I’m having a blast.


Things that scared and affected me don’t anymore

I think it’s because my greatest fear was losing you

Coyotes scare me, especially when you’re out in the hills and you hear them howling close to you

I’m becoming tan and leathery but I like it.