“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good, Oh lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.” -My Translation: “I’m just a soul whose birthright is remembrance of my divinity and swimming in boundless love, so who gives a fuck about your opinion of me.” This song lyric came to me upon waking today, for some… Read More You are your own Guru, because you are the universe
“I seriously just don’t know what to say in groups, I get anxiety. I never have anything to say! Girls at the bar can be hostile. Like why did you get all dressed up and come to the bar, to sit there facing your girlfriend all night?” I caught my breath and gazed into the bookcase, avoiding… Read More Context Dependence
I walk into the bar with three friends. The group of young 19 or 20 looking girls turn their heads slightly. I size up each of their mate values. I infer the amount of time they spent in the mirror before arriving. I position myself in close proximity to the attractive girls’ group while… Read More I am the star of my mind movie- 10 pm to 4 am on a Friday night
I pay a tax, for my equilibrium or, my peace of mind. I work out in the morning and then, on some days, I write three pages of stream of consciousness journaling -“morning pages”, detailed in the book The Artist’s Way. I write exactly what comes to mind: whining, bitching, anger, shame, angst, that puzzled look a… Read More A Happy Tax: Peace of mind has a price
Today I went to the nature preserve 10 minutes away from where I live to sit and journal for a few hours. Contained in the preserve is a castle overlooking the Long Island Sound (bay). There was a couple dressed in formal attire posing for photos with a professional photographer roughly 100 yards away from the bench… Read More The eloquence and absurdity of Gravestone epitaphs
“The depressed person avoids the possibility of independence and more life precisely because there are what threaten him with destruction and death. He holds on to the people who have enslaved him in a network of crushing obligations, belittling interaction, precisely because these people are his shelter, his strength, his protection against the world. Like… Read More The Denial of Death
I have an easier time writing late at night. All of my diversion tactics and modes of procrastination to avoid writing have been exhausted by this point in the night. Over the course of the day, all the non-essential ideas and abstract stressors have been siphoned out of my head through one medium or another. I begin the… Read More On the Shortness of Ego
The Sober Hombre 