Jun 14, 2015

The places you'll go

I think I finally get what you meant about wanting to live your life w/o being driven by "where" you are living it. Like really get it.

Someone told me today I had a California accent, which got me thinking about it. Then a good friend told me he's moving out of NYC to Denver in November. I'm really happy for him; he's going to do really well there.

November is *soon*.

I love California but it's complicated. The first time I visited I was very much in love with someone that I very much couldn't have and didnt (still dont?) know how to handle it and moving there was my way of distancing myself from it, meanwhile building a dream place out of SF as the place that I (we?) might both end up one day and everything would be perfect.

I'll tell you it ends. He's happily partnered with someone else. We don't keep in touch. Memories of him have taken up residence in my head as a form of imaginary friend and confidant. I have no faith that this reproduction in any way resembles reality. I talk to the imaginary version every goddamn day. I keep thinking that I'm over it only to wake up and realize that I'm not.

Again. And again. And again. And again.

SF is tainted. It's covered with memories of memories, layered in one recurring red-eye flight sleep-waking dream atop the other. The city's not that big and I've been to every corner of it, infusing the whole damn peninsula with echoes of unrealized desires.

I need to move on. I think part of that is going to involve, eventually, leaving NYC, but I'm increasingly worried that SF is antithetical to the goal of a clean slate.

That's all just a way of saying I really hate this city sometimes, the lack of grass, how long the winter lasts, all the while acknowledging that how I feel about this place doesn't seem as important as it once did. I also love this city, deeply, the only emotion any reasonable person should be able to muster for a thing that you understand so deeply.

Everywhere I go, there I am, memories and all. The whole world is tainted.

I needed to say this as much for me than anyone. Thanks for listening.

Jun 11, 2015


It's hard to believe now but I'm 27 now; the same age that you were when we met. I was 24 then, a few short weeks away from 25.

I get it now. And god damn, man. 27 is every minute as sexy as you made it look.

I can't help but wonder, sometimes, what your 30 is like. (Or will be?) And if it is as glorious as your 27 appeared to be.

My instincts tell me that it's better: You seemed like the sort of person that ages like a scotch -- well

Development Practices

Leave the office with failing tests.
Groggy morning tomorrow you will thank current tired end of day you for the huge boost of direction in the morning.

Yes to starting the day with some easy wins, wins that didn't feel nearly so easy the night before.

Jun 10, 2015

Evil is ...

good intentions* that ignore emotion.  The winning out of 'logic' over and above 'human' considerations.

'human' considerations: emotions, how a perfectly 'emotional' being would be expected to react in such a situation

'logic' : self-encapsulated reasoning that constructs rules in which your underlying desires / self-motivations can be justified.  largely influenced by observed mechanics of the culture / micro-society an individual finds themselves embedded in.

*good intentions that are unintentionally, but in actuality, self-centered? harmful to others?

Exhibit A: Walter from Breaking Bad.  Begins drug trade to pay for cancer.  Stays in drug trade to...?

Exhibit B: The Red Witch / Stannis from Game of Thrones.  Begins quest for throne because God says he should.  Sacrifices personal happiness for supposed victory in battle.  Happiness, but at what cost?

Jun 7, 2015


His voice haunts me in the most diabolical of ways: late at night, drunk, unalone but uncertain of myself as any other moment. I hear it then, as I edge near the boundary of drunken forgetting when intimacy looms large in the viewfinder, as it did then, a fair half decade ago now: you aren't who I thought you were.

That rushing sound you hear is all the doubts you ever had being confirmed in a single exhale of someone else.

But who you were: you knew.

Tata tata rata: "Is this real life?"

Jun 5, 2015

De la infancia

Some days it feels as though I am reliving the same lessons; lessons that I should have learned at age 8, on the playground. They didn't take.

And so, again.


That strange protean state where
tiredness transmutes from bone
weariness into a high pitch whine,
resonated through a taut jawline.

Oh good, your aerial passage partner
conscientiously mumbles into your ex-conscious
ear canal.
You're not asleep.

Nor awake now, miles farther down the
minutes since that early morning


‪some days I remember the lies you told me and i laugh at both of us‬ ‪at me, for wanting so badly to believe you‬ ‪at you, for having t...