Fuck it at some point everything is an illusion. You are the master of your own reality. Like music. That sick drop can get you grooving like nobody else, but maybe it’s loud noises to someone else. Maybe it’s classical notes, held angelically in the air that catches someone’s soul. Maybe it’s the drag of the jazz beat that catches you every time.

Who knows. Music tickles are brains in fancy ways. No one’s right, no one’s wrong. It’s all washed in the lights and rhythm.

Hell, I love all the parts of exercise, from the fit body to the athletic skills. But really, I’m chasing the dragon; something happens in mile 6 of the half iron that changes you from human to something more, merely by pushing beyond what your mind thinks your corpse can toil.

That’s a high.

On acid on sass on k on coke on puppies on mountains on boats on art exhibits on mj on niki on life.

All these things are experiences, and that’s really the only thing we have. I’m here to jam, whatever it is. I’m trying to have the best time or the worst; stealing seconds on the dance floor or off the jump or through the door because nothing promises tomorrow and I’m trying to make my hallucinations the most vivid technicolor. Everyone moment is worth having, because unfortunately I don’t get them back. They don’t have to be happy, they just have to be. I’m training myself to make them happy, because at the baseline, I’m alive, I’m breathing, I’m here. I won’t always be able to say that, so for now, it’s worth everything to me.

I’m trying to be here for a good time not a long time

I want to find extreme experiences

I’m a backpacking, half-iron, rave animal, community organizer, yogi, cook, poet, seer, sayer, soothsayer, alchemist, water bender from the best Hogwarts house.

Doesn’t make me better or worse. It’s just everyone chooses their own reality. And I think my time on earth is limited, cuz I don’t believe or know about an afterlife. So I’m choosing extreme experiences, because I think it’s fun and it inspires my writing. But everyone’s allowed do what makes them happy, if that’s smoking on the couch to reruns of The Office, or enjoying the autumn wind walking in the park, or drinking with the homies on a new rooftop, or whatever. Or DJ shows or make furniture or cook or clean or study or code or work hard at your freaking job, or whatever.

Do you. Come clean. Be joyful.

I’m trying my best.

I look forward to 2019.