It’s been a while since I’ve written here. Maybe because my friend told me what her boyfriend said when he found out she started writing a journal: “What, are you depressed?”

Because that’s what depressed people do? I’m not so sure about that.

So that’s why I’m back here. I’ve been coding, but it’s not the same. It’s not like you code as fast as you type. But with writing, you can do that. I can make words fly off my fingers. I missed that feeling. It feels a lot like playing an instrument. It’s a game to play. Can you come up with a thought by the time you finish typing your previous one?

So it’s just a matter of figuring out what your brain wants to head off toward.

What’s the goal of writing here? I still consider myself an artist–just expressing my creativity through a different avenue at the moment. I guess the issue is that it may not seem like that from the outside. It might seem like I’m thoughtless. So I write here to validate my opinions. Otherwise, perhaps, they won’t exist…

As in: Maybe they won’t exist until I express them. It might be good to figure out the path I’m on. Decide as I go. But take time to reflect on what it took for me to end up here.

Creating seems to be more important these days than consuming. I get that impression that consuming is meant for your teens, and creating is meant for everything after. Just constantly create, whether that means making music, writing, or organizing events. Pooling together money to have a party. Just creating something that didn’t exist before.

Seems like a better way to spend time than to sit and watch TV all day.



Been six months. I got the raise. I got a new apartment. I have that roommate with the dog. I got everything I wanted except for opening for a DJ at some show, which was probably the least wanted goal anyways.

So what does this mean for me? Sadly, I’m in the same exact state emotionally as I was before. I mean, why is this sadly? I think it’s because we assume that our lives get better if we keep achieving our goals.

Instead, what happens is we adjust to wherever we’re at and we end up always pushing that button in front of us…that desire for something beyond us.

It’s not that bad. I’m using my speakers right now as a surface to hold a lint remover (for the dog), a pencil, ear plugs, a phone charger, a medical insurance card, and a pre-rolled joint. That about sums up the life of someone in their mid-twenties…



Tuesday I’m going to ask for a raise. Just going to ask and see where it takes me.

Am I selling out? Not really. I want money. There are a lot of things I want to buy for the sake of order, beauty, simplicity, and release.

I’m going to figure out how to live my double life better. On the one hand, I take cold showers, write in this journal, read a lot, code, quite porn, stay fit…

On the other hand, I chain smoke on the weekends, drink heavily, take stimulants…

On the one hand, I wear faded, loose clothes to work.

On the other hand, I wear all black on the weekends.

It’s a weird dichotomy. I don’t think it’s normal, which might be why I like it.

There’s more I want to accomplish with my life. I need to focus on figuring out how to achieve everything I want to do. I want to be able to perform live. I want to be able to fuck girls with large breasts. I want to create beautiful, clean software for VR/AR. I want to keep taking drugs when I can.

I also want to design an apartment with a concrete or marble floor. I want tall glass windows and a high ceiling. Maybe that means living downtown.

I also want to live in a dirty apartment (minus cockroaches) filled with drugs and remnants of people’s fantasies about becoming hookers.

Do you see now that this doesn’t make complete sense? I want beauty and destruction depending on what day of the week it is.

I need money no matter which direction I take. Which is why I keep working. I stay productive because I want to achieve all these things for myself. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I also don’t want to not enjoy my life just in case I die young.

Which means one night a week, I allow myself release. I work toward that one night. Every other day, I maintain my schedule. I seek order. I make money, improve my artistic abilities, and become a better coder and designer. I live a life of reason and balsamic vinaigrette.

But for one night, I take shots, take drugs, and try to fuck women with large breasts.

But why one night a week? Why not one night a month? Or one night a season? Or one night a year?

All these time frames are symbolic, just like how I’ve organized a lot of other things in my life. If I can’t justify one night a week, maybe I should figure out whether these are goals even worth trying to keep.

I think they are. Because I’m not acknowledging my darker side these days. It needs to be fed. I’m not 100% clean. And I don’t want to be. But maybe one night a week is just too arbitrary a number. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to think of a better scenario.

Maybe I’m allowed to binge when I hit milestones. No, that’s not quite right, either.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s best that I don’t feed my darker side. Maybe it’s best that I let all these things go. Maybe it’s best that I stick to discipline and order. That instead, I look forward to creating more order.

If that’s the case, then money is no longer as much of an issue for me. I should be fine with the way my life is right now. Not only fine, but content. This is where I want to be. Maybe a nicer apartment. Maybe a nicer car. Maybe a nicer view at the office.

But none of these things are necessary. These are just goals to try to attain to keep me going. Goals that aren’t related to binges.

Such a fucking square, though. It seems so by the book. That rat experiment is fucking with me. The one where they put the rat next to a button that jolted the part of its brain that controls desire. It would keep pressing that button until it passed out from exhaustion. When they tested on people, they reported that they never actually achieved total and complete pleasure.

Our lives are like that. When our favorite movie or TV show’s over, we’re left feeling empty. There’s that phrase that we should be happy that things happened. Smile because it happened or some shit like that. But we would trade that smile to go back to the way things were. To bring back the dead.

I think the mind is addicted to novelty. We want to try new things. When we get stuck in a routine, we lose our taste in desires. A life without fulfilling desires seems empty. We just need to think about which desires will help or hurt us.

The desire to fit in to society seems almost like a nightmare to me. As if I lose my individuality in the process. I really don’t want that. So what instead?

What keeps us spinning the wheel in the cage? To be surrounded by beauty and to be rewarded for our hard work.

Love is a drug. So maybe I want a cocktail on the weekends.

This concept seems easy for me to understand. But the type of love I attract will change as I make more money. Right now, I need to find girls in my income bracket. I’m not sure where I’d find them. Probably around the neighborhood.

Ever since I quit watching porn, it’s like a switch turned on in my brain. It’s bizarre. I didn’t give nearly as many fucks about them until now.

So in the meantime, I should eat well, keep studying, keep writing, keep reading, keep developing better taste in things. We want to be rewarded. I don’t know how long the feeling lasts, but we keep chasing that high. I don’t see what’s so bad about being the rat if we’re aware we’re the rat. If we know that we need to go back to work to be able to pay to push the button. And that button will change for us. It’ll keep changing as novelties wear off.

For now, I live for Friday night. The weekends, I still work like any other day.

I keep working. I keep pushing that button.


Any last words? I’m a dreamer. Dreams will end. But I’m having fun anyways.


I couldn’t write yesterday because I was playing music at Kenny’s. We’re getting serious about it. I’ve been trying to nail it. I love music so much, but it’s not my everything the way Kanye says it is for him. And I don’t believe it when he says it, either. He’s made a name for himself through business and fashion. Music’s not the only thing he’s good at, and it’s not the only that that represents him.

In the same way, I’ve been investing in myself. Not money, necessarily (although I’ve been spending money to have lunch with friends or people I admire), but through time and education. I think there’s a long way for me to go, but every day I’m getting better at something. Whether that’s making music or writing or coding, it’s all something different.

I’d like to save enough money to move to a different neighborhood. Well, part of me wants to. Another part of me likes that I can live a bit like a hermit on the weekends. I’m not obligated to hang out with anyone. I can stay in the apartment and catch up on work. Catch up on Mr. Robot. Then I can keep getting better at things I care about.

In the meantime, I think my self esteem is taking a hit. I’m not caring about the way I dress or present myself because I’m trying to save money and time and resources. I don’t believe in stability when it comes to this company. If I actually want to create wealth, I need to work on my own to attain it.

Right now, I’m paying for an education. I want to know where I can take myself. I want to know how green screen and compositing work. But I also want to know design, music, fashion, and all sorts of other shit. I want to surround myself with beauty.

We love stories. We love self-expression. We want to be heroes, and yet how few of us do? Maybe it’s because we don’t try hard enough to create our realities. I know that I want to build a new UI for virtual reality. I know that the biggest hurdle is putting the headset on. So I wait. But in the meantime, while I’m waiting, I should be able to learn everything I need to know to take advantage of that opportunity. That means reading up on UI in my spare time.

Also, while I’m waiting, I should be improving my writing skills and musicianship. Maybe also improving at math. But I don’t know how much more necessary that is.

I think my goal should be to make the world around me more beautiful. Like interior design. Making things more efficient. But also recognizing beauty in rough edges. Because I grew up not being able to afford a lot of ornamentation.

In the meantime, maybe that means redecorating the office we have right now. I love it because it feels like a garage. Maybe there’s something we can add to it. Posters, maybe? A basketball hoop?

I want to drink from a fountain.


Today, I felt largely ignored. My mom called me at work to talk to me about how my cousin is breaking down during her first week in college. She just moved to the East Coast, and she’s threatening her mom that she’ll commit suicide if she can’t move back home.

Obviously, this isn’t normal. I didn’t understand how sheltered she really was. Very different from me. I couldn’t wait until I left my home. I couldn’t wait to drink and do drugs without having to worry about getting caught by my parents. I couldn’t wait to be able to hook up with girls whenever and wherever I wanted. Self-control became an afterthought (save that for Sunday).


Now, I think so differently. I definitely had to pursue all these things to know that they ultimately weren’t going to make me happy. I know that there’s a lot more for me to want to accomplish that hedonism will impede. Mainly, the more of a hole I dig myself into, the less beauty I’ll ultimately be surrounded by.

I guess at this point I should be able to define beauty for myself. Beauty is clean. Beauty tends to be odorless. It tends to be free of aches. It tends to be free of frustration.

It tends to be vast or compact. There tends to be symmetry and order. But not always. Sometimes, there’s beauty in catharsis–letting go. So a worn-in sneaker can be beautiful as long as it is odorless and the dirt doesn’t come off the shoe into your carpet.

Dirt is okay as long as you can take a shower. But when there’s dirt, there should be drugs and other people to compensate for the dirt. Dirt then becomes a return to nature. Drugs return us to a primal state, where we just want to feel good and fuck. That can be beautiful, too.

But because drugs can’t last forever and there’s always a comedown, you need to offset them with order and beauty. But a life of constant order can become boring. You’ll think of those times on drugs and you’ll want to be back there. You don’t want to believe that the best days are already over. For example, I’m surrounding myself with beauty right now writing this blog post, but I’m also thinking of how much better it would feel right now to fuck the girl of my dreams.

Did I tell you that my erection problem went away? I’ve been horny the past couple days, and it’s been very refreshing. However, I’ve been lusting after very specific types of women. Large-breasted, slightly unhinged.

That’s okay, though. I know that I can’t go after anyone yet. I don’t own my own space yet. I imagine I’ll be able to find a girl to hang out with more often through meetups. But this girl needs to share a similar philosophy. That we must celebrate beauty and order and at the same time dirt and catharsis. So a girl who’s capable of appreciating both and in similar amounts.

I’m having a hard time figuring out where I’d be able to find someone like her. It would have to be at a party of like-minded people. Right now, I don’t know a lot of people who would think like me.

Maybe a rap concert. Maybe a techno show. For the past couple relationships, I wasn’t actually that attracted to the person I was dating. I think I need to find someone around my height with large breasts. That’s all I’m really going to bring it down to at the moment.

Another annoying thing about sex is that girls have a hard time coming when they’re not experienced. So it would be important to find someone who’s open-minded and willing to try new positions/things/ideas. That’s what makes me think finding someone at a techno show would be ideal. It celebrates order, dirt, catharsis, all that shit. It’s social.

But people don’t go up to strangers at techno shows because “it’s all about the music.” People go to bars to try to hook up. People go to meetup groups.

In any case, I’m not that interested in being with someone right now. I’m interested in creating order and beauty and taking time to take in order and beauty. I’m interested in saving money. Saving money to move to a serene place that also understands order and catharsis.


I’ve been very proactive about keeping appointments. Tonight, I met with an old coworker who now is an assistant for one of the biggest people in entertainment. He hasn’t changed, and that was refreshing. Sometimes, people let it get to their head.

I think ego might be derided more than it should. Ego’s what drives innovation. We want to be recognized as unique and creative. It’s what drives us to want to become stars. If we try to shove that under the rug for the sake of things like “the greater good” or “teamwork,” sometimes we’ll lose the essence of what made someone beautiful.

This friend I met with is one of those people. He deserves to stand out. He’s a fantastic person, extremely positive–and he makes everyone around him happier. I don’t see any downside to that. I think it’s interesting to be around someone like him, compared with my best friend at my company. Hyper-critical, but also extremely fun to be around.

I don’t know. I’m caught between the two of them, and I’m trying to juggle both aspects of my personality. I’d like to be defined as someone who makes everyone around him happier and also someone who’s extremely insightful when it comes to improving things that are worth caring about.

Also, I confirmed last night that I can still make myself hard. I guess it was a drugs/fatigue thing in the last entry. That was a relief.

We keep shit like this quiet unless we’re really worried or it becomes a huge deal. Thankfully, this didn’t. We’re good. We’re golden.

That’s a Kid Cudi reference. I wonder how he’s doing. I wonder how long it’ll take me to memorize all of Chance the Rapper’s songs. I’d like to. It’s a nice goal to have. If I dedicate ten minutes a day to reading Chance the Rapper lyrics while listening to the song, I wonder if it’ll happen. I guess we’ll have to wait and see after we dedicate more time to it.

But it’s hard to dedicate time when I’m scheduling so many other things with my time. I’m jamming with K tomorrow. That’s going to take up all my time outside of work.

I also need to figure out where I want to eat this weekend. And how much I want to learn this weekend about UI and all sorts of other shit.

I’d like to become better at everything i want to get better at. Can that happen? Will it happen?

I think so. Am I a better writer than when i first started this blog? Hard to say. I think so, though. I think I’ve become a lot more aware of my personal wants and strengths and weaknesses. I’ve become more aware of what I’m ashamed to say out loud.

As life keeps going on, I’d like to make sure that I keep writing in here and reminding myself that the end-game is EGO, whether that means total loss or total celebration. Kanye’s obviously not happy, so maybe going solely after ego is unhealthy. But ego death’s best represented by Tibetan monks, and I don’t know if I’d ever be able to fully go that route, either.


Today, I worked on audio and processing. It may have been one of the most boring, mind-numbing days of my entire life. I felt like a machine.

I’m taking the time to write in here for the hopes of one day becoming good enough to share my writing in my own voice without compromising for any PG-Rated publication.

So today was sort of a “gotta work to pay the bills,” you know? Father John Misty worked at a bakery.

In the meantime, I’m making music every day. I’m exercising every day. I’m having fun on the weekends. I’m listening to a lot of music. I’m listening to a lot of audiobooks. One of my smaller goals these days is to memorize a few more rap songs (Chance, I’m looking at you).

So I’m very much on the right side of the mountain right now. I’m working on making this week one of the most productive of my entire life.

I’ve been maintaining my weight. I’ve been improving at a lot of things. I’ve been (trying) to code more. It’s hard, though, because that’s another hobby that can often be bogged down by gross design.

This morning, I decided to take a cold shower. I woke up a bit earlier than the alarm because I had a nightmare. I dreamed I was in the video game Resident Evil. It wasn’t a horrible nightmare because I was actually really badass and ran past zombies without getting touched (that’s a big part of the game (you have to save ammo)). So I make it to a large, empty mansion, and I guess I met a girl? I don’t remember what she looked like. But she woke me up. And it’s been close to two months since I last watched porn. I’ve been having more dreams with girls these days, sometimes erotic but sometimes not. Last night, I couldn’t really tell. I think I’ve been having sex drive issues. Like, I almost never am fully erect these days. I just…I don’t know, my body doesn’t care? I don’t think it’s natural. I’m pretty sure it has to do with my meds. But I guess it’s better this way than not being on them.

Conversely, it’s made me a lot more productive not thinking about girls aside from in dreams. I don’t know. I read online that this is “flatlining.” Like, after you quit watching porn, your body goes into a state of non-arousal for up to two months.

I’ll keep monitoring my libido and wait for it to come back. It is a bummer that it comes and goes, but it might also have to do with the fact that I did drugs this past weekend. Maybe I should stop doing those for a while as well.

I’ll write for a few more minutes. I’ve also been trying to learn how to squat properly, which means squatting with my heels touching the ground. It’s been pretty painful trying to train to be able to do this. I hold onto my computer desk and slowly bend down. as I get closer to the floor, I end up pulling against my desk more and more in order to compensate. It’s weird. My center of balance gradually ends up behind my ass, so I have to hold onto the desk to stay upright.

To be completely honest, I don’t understand why it’s so hard. I guess my ankles aren’t flexible enough for me to revert my center of balance to above my heels. Because ankles are so stiff, I’m not able to lean more of my body weight in front of them.

It’s a work in progress. It might be a hip issue as well.

I’ve also been working on 5-minute meditation sessions. They’ve been supposed to be doing something, but I haven’t noticed much of an effect yet. Or maybe they’re the reason why I’m able to accomplish all these other goals so far? Hard to say.



This morning, I woke up feeling great, considering I took drugs a couple days ago. I woke up right when the alarm rang. I took a quick shower. I wore a grey shirt and brown pants. I walked about a block to get to my car (I was able to find a spot closer to my apartment the day before).

This past weekend, I finished the Infinite Jest audiobook, and I forgot to purchase another audiobook to take its place. Instead, I listened to this: https://soundcloud.com/perc/perc-truss-404-festival

It was a bit too harsh for the morning, but it kept me busy.

Today, Kenny convinced me to listen to more of Father John Misty’s work. It’s good.

I kept within my diet today (3 Soylents, 2 small pieces of a cookie pie, half a bag of sunchips, a small handful of nuts). Not bad at all.

I worked until 8:30pm today. That wasn’t good. And I have to postpone my jam session with Kenny until this Thursday or this weekend. This is sort of good because I’ve been behind on making music anyways.

Good night.