Sunday, May 9, 2021 3:03pm

Dear U,

I’m back.. Back to writing to you after a year+ long hiatus. I stopped writing around April last year right in the midst of lockdown. Because of X’s stalker. Some part of me wish I didn’t stop writing to you then. Because so much has happened. So many things that changed my life between now and then. But then again, I was so wrapped up with life’s unfolding that I don’t think I had the bandwidth to stop and write to you. Maybe as I move forward I can fill in the blanks.

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You can thank Q and S2 for my return. They’ve been telling me how much they miss my journaling, keeping up with me and my world, my lovelife, my thoughts and feelings, how I’m doing, what I’m reading, what I’m putting inside me, all the things I used to share.

I miss it too. I miss giving myself these quiet moments to sit, reflect and share. This is a very particular kind of writing, it’s stream of consciousness. And consciousness is so ephemeral, I  can remember events, I can record conversations, but I can’t recall the very subtle fleeting moods and thoughts, without this type of journaling..

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I’m sitting outside on the deck at the green bistro table. It’s a tank top sunny day. Birds are chirping, flowers are in full bloom, everything is green and bright.

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Earlier I was a little bummed. On such a bright sunny Sunday all I wanted to do was go on a hike with M8. But he’s going to be with his lover today, most likely going on a hike with her. Maybe somewhere north and by the water.

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I wish we got a chance to go on a hike when we saw each other Friday and part of Saturday. Instead we had a ton of sex, back to back dinners at Gather and Ippuku (had to make up for lost dining out?) and picnic park time.

But I really wanted to go hiking..

Of course I wouldn’t trade the epic sex we had for hike time. I just wish we could do it all. Or maybe I’m feeling something..

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That something..languor..envy..whatever it was dissolved after I called my mom and wished her a happy Mother’s Day..

We had some awkward lulls in our call.

Maybe we were both thinking about the heated conversation we had yesterday. Where she started crying, saying that there’s nothing great about her life, all she does is worry about me and my sis. Everyone else’s kids (that’s our age and all grown up) are all settled down with a partner, kids and a stable job. But not us.

My mom says she doesn’t buy anything for herself, no handbag or fancy clothes, she’s been frugal, saving up every penny she’s got, pouring it into buying houses for us, for our security. She’s doing what we ought to be doing for ourselves, she says.

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All this came after her telling me I can’t tell my stepdad or anybody about my second partner, M8. We would be the laughing stock among our relatives.

I told her I’ll lie for her. But I really don’t want to anymore.

She says I have to.

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She says you have to “live right.” Implying that I shouldn’t have two partners.

I told her I am living right, that’s why I am telling her the truth about my poly lifestyle. Implying that telling the truth is the right thing to do.

She disagrees, there are things you have to lie about, she says. to keep peace.

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I came out to her about M8 and my polycule this past Monday, after I rehearsed the conversation with M9 (my new Vietnamese Clubhouse friend) on Clubhouse. The rehearsal went well. I poured my soul into it. My Vietnamese and English translation flowed seamlessly into each other. So did the tears.

After the rehearsal, P came up on stage and we answered questions about our poly relationship. It was great. All the while, M8 was quietly in the audience, listening in.

After I ended the Clubhouse, while everything I rehearsed was still fresh. I called mom and told her about my open relationship with P and his lovers and my lovers and M8..

That didn’t go too well. But it was expected.

She think it’s not normal. She thinks it’s not going to end well. She thinks nobody in our family/relative circle should know about this. She’s really worried about me, even more now than before, now that she knows..

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The past me would avoid these conversations of having to explain myself. The past me would protect her from the truth. The old me would never want her to worry about me.

The present me knows that I have to tell the truth.

I keep telling myself:

When you live the truth, every part of you becomes true, even your wildest dreams.

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I want to integrate M8 into my life. I want to build the most secure foundation from which we can grow and expand. The foundation rests on truth..

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I want M8 to feel secure as he moves though his shadows and insecurities right now.

My way of being, connecting, getting intimate with others, it’s really triggering him.

I’m going through a hyper expansive and connective phase right now.

All the connections I’m making are incredible and magical, and very intimidating to M8.

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Anyways, my languorous envy for hiking with M8 today dissolved the moment after my mom hung up on me bc my sister was calling her. She called me right back and said my sister messed up and booked the wrong flight tomorrow, She was supposed to fly from SFO->SNA (Orange County) at 10am

Instead she booked a SNA->SFO flight landing in SF at noon.

I told her she can drive down with me since I’m taking my car.

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The synchronicity of this brought the deepest sense of well-being to my body (and that’s when the languor and envy, desire to be elsewhere, hiking with M8 dissolved).

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Everything is happening as it should, I see the pattern:

This time last year, the day after Mother’s Day, my sis knocked on my door Monday morning to tell me that my dad killed himself. I quickly packed my stuff, got in the car and we drove down to OC together.

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This year, the day after Mother’s Day, on a Monday, we’ll be driving down to OC together together..

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I can’t believe it’s already been a year, mom broke the awkward silence in our conversation.

I know, I said.

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I’m looking into hotels in Orange County and LA for me and M8 to stay at as I’m talking to her..

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I wonder where he’s at, she said.

He’s in a good place, I told her.

How do you know? she asked me

I can feel it. I pray to and for him everyday, I tell her. And my psychics confirmed that.

You can’t trust all psychics, she said.

I’m a little offended that the woman who’s been seeing psychics all her life doesn’t trust my judgment on psychics. As if I’m the naive one who can’t read people.

I trust them, and they’re very accurate, I said defensively.

Should I tell her that one of them  has a three month waitlist and came highly recommended by a friend who happens to be a skeptic male and and a NYT bestseller? As if all of that makes it more legit. I don’t tell her all that.

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After mom and I hang up,

I email M8 the list of potential hotels, we go over them over the phone, he defers to me.

I’m happy he’s down with staying at The Proper hotel in Santa Monica. It’s new-ish, close to the beach, with a lovely decor. It’s a little bit pricey. and I know he’s not one to overpay on these things, but he was down to go with what I wanted.

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We split the cost. I’m glad we are. Since I’m picking the hotels and they’re way above the price point of what he would pick for himself.

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M8 and I traveling makes salient how our relationship feels different from mine and P.  With P, he would pick the fanciest suite of the fanciest hotel, and pay for everything.

I like how it’s different with M8. I like how I’m the one popping his fancy cherry.

I can’t wait for the day when I’m flush with money and can pay for everything.

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M8 was bummed knowing that I had a birthday party to go to on the 18th, cutting my time with him in LA shorter than he expected.

But we have all the 17th together in LA, I tell him. Oh right, he said, he forgot that we have a full day in LA together.

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This is our first trip together. I’m excited to take M8 to my favorite spots in in the OC/LA.

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This time last year, M8 was in dream and on my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about him the weekend before my dad passed away.

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I texted P2 earlier, when I was feeling the hike languor, and asked him if he wanted to go for a walk around 6:30.

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Two friends text me, one exactly at 2:22 saying they’re in my neighborhood, am I free to hang?

I was about to say yes to one, but that would require of me to shower and look somewhat presentable, and move faster. I decide to say no to both. I just want to go slow, sit outside and journal to you. And not shower.

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What are you gonna do today? I ask M8 after we went over the hotels, even though I knew/guessed that he’s seeing his lover. I just wanted to hear how he would respond.

A slight pause.

I’m gonna catch A8 before she takes off for Minnesota.

That’s great. What are you guys gonna do? I ask even though I know that they’re probably gonna go for a hike.

Probably go for walk somewhere. Even though it’s kinda hot. And I’m kinda tired.

I can tell how by his choice of words how he tries to downplay his time with her.

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I’m sorry I kept you up with night with my surprise visit, I told him.

After getting all sweet and intimate with her last night, I had the strongest desire to stop by M8’s unannounced at 12:49am and bring this sweetness into our space.

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He apologized for not having the energy that I had when I arrived. He was winding down, I was all revved up. He doesn’t want his lack of energy last night to deter me from future surprise drop-ins.

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I text K8. I’m going to be in LA next week. And I would love to have coffee and meet up. He’s the new only person that I’m intentionally making plans with at this point. He calls me. We make plans.

Weird how a clubhouse room reconnected us. The first time we met was 6 years ago. 10 min after meeting, I was holding his hand as his ego dissolved on 5meodmt. I shed tears, feeling the depth of his experience.

8:48pm

2 hour call with S8. She wants what I have, soulmate partners. I told her that I’d be happy to help her with her intimacy blocks. We’re gonna create a Clubhouse show on dating and intimacy. It’s everything that I want to do with her. Help her, work with her and play for our dreams.

Funny how we’ve never met in person. This is our second time conversing. It’s all energy and thoughtful words being exchanged. We don’t need much other than intuition and alignment of goals to know where to devote our time and energy..

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Kept rescheduling my covid test to a later time. 1:30 to 4:30 to 5:30 to make time for my call with S8.

My sister insisted I get tested. Even though everyone, my mom, stepdad, her and I are all vaccinated.

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I coordinate with P on our time in LA. His sugar baby is flying into Miami tomorrow. They’re flying into LA Saturday.

M8, P and I are gonna have dinner together Sunday night. It’s a first. All three of us together. I’m excited.

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Around 6:30 when P2 arrived, I felt the spiritual wave. I feel incredibly still. At moments, I feel tears just on the verge..

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I can feel my Dad.

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I’m brought back to this time last year.

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I have no desire to pack. It feels like like a lot of work.

But at the same time, I know I have to go with this flow. Everything is circling and cycling.

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It feels nice to see P2 before we both take off on our respective trips. I know he appreciates this quiet time together, walking with me and Cutie in his satchel.

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I feel this stillness..one can mistake it for slight sadness. But mostly it’s equanimous. I can’t describe it how I feel. It’s just oneness with everything. That’s still not a good description. Let’s try again..quiet, present, deep gratitude for every breath, finding beauty in this stillness..

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I give P2 all the veggies I didn’t eat, and the corn tortillas I didn’t open.

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Do I have to pack? Do I have to clean the house? Do I have to take out the trash? All I want to do is write to you and meditate.

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I haven’t even told you about yesterday.

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How beautiful she looked when I kissed her.

How fun it is to give her DMT from my mouth to hers.

How I didn’t know how we were going to get intimate even an hour before. We get so in our heads sometimes. Ideas bubble.

But then that 6 min meditation allowed me to be in my body, to feel my way with her, to feel her, her skin, her breasts.

 

I wasn’t sure where we would end up,

but I was down for anything with her. Even though I was bleeding.

I don’t even know where to begin. How to describe this incredible work we’re doing, what we’re creating and about to create.

All I know is that I’m so grateful, that she made this my work.  Our work. Everything that I love to do (making art, love and magic) I get to do with her and call it my sacred intimate work. My sex work.

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So many levels, so many layers, so many synchronicities, so many signs pointing us to our work and play together. I can’t even begin to list the magical moments, how it’s all so crazy perfect. All I know is that we’re doing it. And it feels so right.

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She inspired me to write to U again. She was reading my old journals, she pulled it up and showed it to me. My old words. Where I was at in 2019. This is so weird.

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Then I realized I want to get back into this. And make this my offering. My life, my story, my moment by moment thoughts and feelings. I want to journal anyways. It’s the only thing I’ve ever kept up with on Pervette. And can do consistently, because I love to record and share. If even one person pays for this, I will have all the motivation to keep going.

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Just journaling to you again today is making my mind bend, in a more reflective way. I love it.

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I’m at 11% response rate to my texts and emails.  Much better than before.

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In my dream last night, the 19th was the day I was going to emerge back on social media. That’s 9 more days.

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Okay, it’s 10pm, I guess I should pack now..

 

What I put inside me: Red clover, comfrey and horsetail tea with Dad, sprouted almonds, matcha latte with homemade almond milk and all the adaptogens, Fuji apple, a jar of Toninno tuna, a piece of dark chocolate, carrot, the rest of the Three Stone Hearth beef stroganoff. I’m not hungry today, I just need to put some protein in my body..

 

Monday, May 11th, 2021 (Dad’s Death Anniversary)

 

I woke up at 7:21am from the light of the drawn curtain. I think of Dad. How he left this earth around this time last year.

I start packing my toiletries as I get ready. Jesus I have a ton. I pack the rest of my clothes, lots of cashmere pants, tank tops, one sexy pinafore dress and La Perla bodysuit for the Agency launch party.

I deflate the Airslant slant board and throw that in the trunk. I thought I was going to pack 3 slim books. But instead I pack a totebag of 7 or so books.. just in case.

I’m surprised that mom has only called once to rush me out the door. She wants us on the road at 10am. I told her it’ll more likely be around 11:30ish. Which really means  sometime after noon.

I pack my vitamins, two MacBook pros, 6 hard drives (all my digital memories), my old (dad) journals form this time last year, in case I want to recall the events and my thoughts and share them with you.

I water my trees and plants. I make two giant bowls of matcha latte’s with all the adaptogens. I down one and pour the other into a thermos.

I decide not to pack the roller-skates and skateboard. I’m being realistic.

I leave the house at 11:44am. I get gas, pick up my cashmere pants and top at the dry cleaners and head into the city to pick up my sister.

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This time last year, she came to me, knocking on my door at 8 in the morning. I was surprised at the random visit unannounced happy to see her when I opened the door.

She had her mask on and bright orange latex gloves, a concerned look in her eyes.

I remember what she said:

Where were you? I was trying to call you all morning.

Dad died! He killed himself.

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My mind registered what she said.

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My scream pierced the neighborhood. It was alarmingly loud. It startled her and her fiancé who was by the curb unloading her suitcase from the trunk.

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I was about to run up the stairs to grab the recorder. This is how my obsessive mind works. But then I see L take off her orange gloves and open her arms up to me. I throw ym arms around her, and hold her tiny frail body so tightly and cried..

Why??

Over and over again..

We cried holding each other.

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Then soon after I started packing and we drove down to the OC together.

It was a Monday morning when that all happened. Today is a Monday as well.

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I had to go pee by the time I arrived at her place. I asked to use her bathroom, she said I can but her place is a mess.

I said it’s cool. When I came inside her two bedroom apt in the Castro, the place she’s living in with her fiancé (it’s actually his place), I was kinda stunned. By how messy it was. There were things everywhere. In a disarray, shoved, in and around every corner. I don’t know how to describe it. I tried to not look too much as I head towards the bathroom. Because I didn’t want her to get self-conscious. Her bathroom. Hmm. Don’t want to describe it either.

I know that her and fiance fight about her messes all the time. I know that she cries about about being over-worked and that she doesn’t have enough time to herself to even clean the place.

But this is unsettling. I think if I had two hours, I could kinda tidy up these piles of messes and it would look much better.

I feel bad that I have this sprawling 4400 sq ft house with more rooms than I can use and here she is cooped up in this tiny apartment with things cluttered everywhere.

I guess I shouldn’t feel too bad. I mean..she does have a 4000+ sq ft house in Orange County that my mom and I helped her buy a decade ago, which she abandoned (around the time she outed me) and chose to move up here and move in with her fiancé, to get away from my mom’s grip on her.

I think about how we traded places. When she was in that giant house I was in a 2 bedroom apartment. I hope in the next cycle, she will create space to bring in more space.

I see the shrine that she set up for Dad. His framed picture, the lotus lights. It’s on a book shelf, the only areas that’s not too cluttered.

How can I tell her that she needs to clean her place. That her whole life will change the moment she changes her environment and clears her clutter.

I know that from experience. It was 2014 when I cleared the clutter in my closets and that’s when my while life changed.. acid, soulmate, got outed, found my life’s calling, moved into my dream home, plant medicine, etc..

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When you change what you say, think and do,

the whole world changes with you.

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It was a less tearful trip this time around. Last year I kept on having to clear the tears from my sunglasses. Last year my mind was racing with so many thoughts, how he felt, what I didn’t know, things I could’ve done to save him.

This time around, we’re both more centered and grounded. Well, at least I felt more centered. L was flustered with all the work she has to do..offer submissions, comps, nightmare clients..the work never ends she says. And this real estate market is so crazy and volatile.

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What? Leslie Cheung died? I just found out from L.

Yeah, you didn’t know? He died a long time ago. I thought you knew, since you were so obsessed with him and that film Farewell my Concubine.

How did he die?

I think it was suicide, she said.

Can you look it up?

She googles as I drive and and reads to me how the Chinese actor leapt from the 24th floor of the Mandarin Oriental in Hong Kong in 2003.

As she was reading how this was his second attempt and that he’s been clinically depressed for quite some time, she started to tear up.

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I was obsessed with Leslie Cheung and the film Farewell my Concubine when I was in middle school. He was the first queer actor I was exposed to, and Farewell my Concubine was one of the first films that got me thinking about my pansexuality.

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L kept on talking about work, the people that’s annoying her, her relentless hours…before I picked her up my mind was in a very visionary space, now I’m listening, taking in what she says and trying to not let her energy drain me.

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I told mom about M8 and my open relationship, I said.

I know, she told me, L said.

So you guys talked about it, I asked, What else did she say?

She asked me if I knew him. I said I met him and that’s it.

She seem like she was hedging..

What else did she say?

She’s just worried about you. She’s not happy that he’s an artist.

What did you say?

I told her that I can’t say much because I don’t really know him. I don’t know what to think. I feel like I’m in the middle between what you think and what she thinks. I do think you need to get a trust to protect yourself.

I was starting to get a sense of what she’s implying..

Wait, do you guys think M8’s into me because of my assets?

I think regardless of him, you need to get a trust.

That’s crazy. We met before I bought the house. And we’re in love with each other, on a cosmic soulmate level.

I’m starting to realize that she can interrupt what I’m saying as being crazy naive and delusional.

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I’m upset that L can’t vouch for me and M8, she’s met him before when we were house hunting. Granted they were both wearing masks, but still it would’ve helped if she could put in a good word for me.

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I’m upset that she doesn’t ask about my world. She never asks about my life, even when I try to open up these conversations and share with her what’s going on. She chooses not to know so she can hold on to these judgments that she has. It’s as though she doesn’t want to understand so that she can look down on it.

She just talks about her work. And it’s all surface level talk. This is what drove me mad and away from her. Our talk is so one-sided. She just wants me to listen and validate that her life is so hard. It’s so draining.

I’m in disbelief at her and my mom’s assumptions.

But then I realized something and started telling L what I thought..

I guess mom would think this way because she never really experienced love. All her relationships and the decisions to be in them were based on financial security. Look at her and B. She married him for his money and generosity.

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Well, I just think you gotta live for yourself, L said. Her platitude seems like a filler.

I’m living the life I want to live, I reply, But I wouldn’t say I’m living fully for myself. I’m thinking of mom and our family as well. Because I know that she hasn’t lived for herself. She keeps saying that she’s been living for us. And that her whole life is a sacrifice for us.

Of course I want to give back. And I’m ready to now.

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I stopped listening to Deric Wan and tried putting on the Girls Gotta Eat podcast that A2 sent me. But my stereo did something strange. It started to play dad’s mix cd. Even though it was supposed to play what was coming through the AUX input.

That’s never happened before. I guess Dad wanted us to listen to his playlist. So we listened to Better Midler’s Wind Beneath My Wings.

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Whoa, my offer got accepted, L said as she was checking her email on her phone.

You mean the one that you just submitted this morning? That’s awesome. Congratulations!

Thanks! Finally. I’ve been working with these clients for over 2 years.

That’s crazy.

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We didn’t have to say it, Dad’s working his magic.

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Crazy how we somehow dodged the LA traffic. We drove through downtown LA around 6:30pm and not once did we have to slow down.

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Do you want a cheese and peanut butter cracker sandwich? L asked.

No, I’m good.

I didn’t even know Keeblers still exist. That was a childhood snack of ours. L brought that and Reccuiti dark chocolate caramel covered almonds for snacks. That about sums up her taste.

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I drove the whole way through. I forgot to get gas when we stopped to go pee. The tank reached empty just as we were 4 blocks away from home.

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When we arrived, there was still some light out. So I went for a walk with Dad. It’s been my ritual since last year. To walk around the gated community around sunset with him.

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When I came back, I saw R, my stepdad driving up in his Chevy truck. I helped him with the food (a big grilled catfish) that he picked up at the Vietnamese restaurant,

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Mom set the dining room table. It’s a special occasion when we sit in the dining room table as opposed to the kitchen island for dinner. It was our late Mother’s Day dinner.

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It’s one of my favorite meals. A large grilled catfish that we would pick at and roll into spring rolls with some lettuce, cucumber, and pickled carrot and daikon.

Mom threw a hissy fit when she realized that the restaurant forgot to pack the vermicelli into our order.

I even reminded them twice when I was placing the order on the phone!, she harrumphed, I even told them that they can’t forget it this time because they forgot it last time. Why I paid extra for the bun (vermicelli!). She starts stomping around looking for the phone. I’m gonna call them up right now to complain.

L, R, and I smile at each other as we dip our rice papers in the bowls of hot water.

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L comments on the rice paper we’re using, is this the Three Ladies one? Why does the packagin  looks so different. Is it a knockoff?

We all noticed how the rice paper is very sticky and soggy.

Mom’s roll is falling apart as she’s rolling it. The rice paper is sticking to the paper tablecloth. She’s pulling it off and tearing the tablecloth. We all laugh.

Oh wait, it says Banh Chan Deo. (Banh Chan means rice paper..Deo means soft) We got the soft rice paper? No wonder.

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I ate 4 too many spring rolls. It was so yummy. Then I ate the jackfruit that R got at the Vietnamese produce store.

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Me, mom and R laid around in the giant sectional. Mom had me set up her Facebook on her new iPhone.

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I’m researching OC Vietnamese restauarants to take M8 to when he gets here Friday. As well as LA restaurants. I get lost in LA Eater rabbithole.

What do you want me to crochet for you? my mom asked as  she showed me her iPad screen and started scrolling through this Chinese girl’s facebookthumbnail videos of her crocheted bags, trinkets, flowers.

That looks neat, I point to a trinket with tassels that looks like it can be a bookmark.

I can make that, that’s easy, she said.

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R was about to go asleep on the sectional when my mom said I can give him a massage if he wants. It’s a ritual now. Every time I come home, I give R a back massage, since he can’t got o usual massage parlors (covid and all). He takes it up. I’m dog tired from the long drive and walk and giant meal. But as soon as I put my hands on his back, I have the energy to take care of his knots around his shoulders. R was quiet most of the night, but we got to talking once I massage him.

We talk about P and how he’s doing. I told him that he’s settling into his condo at the Four Seasons in Miami right now.

How much did he pay for his condo? he asked

4 million, I think

For a 2 bedroom condo? R shakes his head laughing.

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He’s flying to LA this weekend. And moving into his new house in Bel Air.

Mom tells him how much his rent is.

$40,000 a month in rent? That’s crazy! R chuckles. My mom and R both comment on what a big spender P is.

They seem to get a kick at how lavish P’s lifestyle is.

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After the massage, I go upstairs to inflate my slant board in Dad’s altar room. I fall asleep on the slant board listening to the Buddha box chant

Na mo Ai Di da Phat..

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What I put inside me: a bowl of matcha latte I made with a ton of adaptogens, a thermos of matcha latte (for the road), a bag of cauliflower chips (while I was driving), a carrot, grilled catfish spring rolls (8 or 9), shrimp salad, jackfruit

 

Tuesday, May 11, 2021 (Dad’s death anniversary)

I woke up around 9am to the sound of the garage opening, R starting his truck and pulling out and driving off.

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I recorded my dream and wrote out my morning pages. When I got out of bed, I can hear mom hollering to me. I stepped out the bedroom and looked downstairs.

R left this morning. He left you a check for $100,000.

What? I thought he was leaving tomorrow? I said.

He got a call early this morning, and had to head back to the inland empire.

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I feel deeply touched by his generosity. This is the third time he’s left early into morning leaving me a check for 100,000. It’s a loan. A very generous loan to help me with the house and to pay ooff that pesky HELOC loan.

 

I kinda wished we had more time together. All we had was a few hours over dinner and massage

Mom was happy he took off early. That way we don’t have to sneak around him when we bring dad’s food up to his altar upstairs for his offering. Today is Dad’s death anniversary.

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L was busy with work, so she couldn’t go with me to pick up the vegetarian food and flowers.

Mom said she’ll go with me to pick out the flowers. I told her I can go by myself. She said that sounds good, just FaceTime her so she can pick out the flowers.

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I preferred the quiet drive. Listening to Dad’s mix cd. It was a gray hazy morning. It’ll be a few more Horus before the sun burns through the clouds. Every now and then when I think of Dad, I could feel a tear drop.

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I went to Bo Do Tin Team Chay to pick up mom’s order. I saw that they had some freshly made che, a Vietnamese desert that Dad used to eat. I added it to the order.

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Then I went to Trader Joe’s, mom’s favorite place to get orchids. I know she told me to Facetime her when I get there so she can pick out the orchids herself. But I don’t feel like having her get all picky on FaceTime. I picked out 6 orchids, the prettiest I can find, more than Mom asked for, If I get a ton of nice orchids, she’ll see how I picked out the best. I was feeling lazy about Facetiming her and having her take forever to pick them out.

But then the girl next to me Facetimed her mom and together they picked out the orchids. I took it as a sign from Dad that I should be facetiming Mom. So I did, I showed her the orchids I picked out. She thought they looked great and chose her 3 favorite out of the 6. It only took a minute.

I also picked up some blueberries, avocados, bananas. They have marula oil here? Got that too.

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I came back with the food and flowers. Mom started plating the food. And we started taking the prepared bowls of rice and small plates of food upstairs to dad’s altar. As well as our ancestors’ altar. This reminds me of last year. When everyday for 30 days after Dad’s death, we offered him lunch and dinner. It was a ritual that grounded us in our grieving as much as it connected us to him. It gave us a sense of focus when everything seem so blurry through the tears.

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When I pray in Dad’s room, I feel an energy that’s so palpable.

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I have this feeling that if I were to sit in his room and mediate for hours, I would break through to another spiritual level.

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I feel so quiet. I have no energy to talk.

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As I was journaling to you about

I take a call from S6. She suspects that out mutual client is a narcissist. She lists all the things he did and said  that are characteristic of a narcissist.

She asked me why I stopped seeing him as a coaching client. I told her how he had issues of self-worth and a hang up for paying for intimacy that was triggering his insecurity. So I “just be friends”

I text L7 that I’m feeling my Dad today and I’m not quite sure how I feel about doing a Dominatrix Traning Dinner Party

Themes: ladybugs, perfect spring weather, SoCal trip, Dad’s death anniversary, feeling Dad, traveling with M8, M8 meeting Mom (maybe), M8 and P hanging out, MistressClass, jasmine in the air,

 

 

Thursday, May 14, 2021 9:53am

 

Dear U,

How do I describe to you what’s happening?

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I woke up this morning. Recorded my vivid dream. There were many telling parts to it.

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I can feel my hand and pen flow again. My writing is fast and fluid.

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Then I started the morning pages, which went into automatic writing. I just started writing. Words flow, messages came through, were they from my subconscious, were they from another realm? Clear messages of deep knowing of why I’m here, what I have to do. At some point, I can tell that it was Dad that was communicating to me.

In the moment of writing, I had an intuition or desire to not share these words with anyone, just yet.

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The words came through fast, the writing is illegible to most other than myself. I have the deepest sense of flow when I write that fast.

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My margins create an interesting shape.

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Then I meditated tuning into Dad. Yoga nidra. I feel a sensation all over and the coolness of my breath on my upper lip.

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I can’t describe the feeling, other than his spirit is so potent. And I’m so grateful that we are connecting so deeply int his space.

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Last year I developed my spiritual practice of meditating, praying, pulling the tarot and journaling every morning with Dad in his room, in front of his shrine. It was the most healing practice that allowed me to be at peace with him in the spirit realm. Because I felt connected to him.

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This time, I gained a new tool/technology/practiv..automatic writing..

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I’m so grateful that my intuition told me to bring the Blue Island book home and crack it open..

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After my yoga nidra, I said a a prayer for and to Dad.

Then I opened up the Blue Island randomly to a page..

Chapter VIII

The Reality of Thought Communication

..In concentrating the mind on any one spirit person, you are sending out real, live, active forces. These forces pass through the air in precisely the same way as electric waves do, and they never their mark. You concentrate on Mr. A in the spirit world, and immediately Mr. A is conscious of a force coming to him.

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I got the affirmation that I was looking for. I always felt Dad the moment I’m thinking of him. Before there were tears streaming.

Now it’s a a single teardrop that’s shed down each cheek when he comes to mind and I can feel his presence through my whole body, the tear drop is the truth drop. This truth of our connection, and how we both can drop into each other.

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I think about the title of that Joan Didion book I’ve owned for quite some time and have never really read. Called the Year of Magical Thinking

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Mt journaling to you is really just my way of sharing with you my magical thinking. How I see the world through these rainbow lens. How I see these dimensions. How I move through the world with a strange knowing that there’s more to this reality, but we can all have access to the prism if we choose to the see the signs and find the resonance of meaning between them. It’s like that idea in The Alchemist book about the hidden language.

There’s a universal language that’s beyond words, it’s being able to connect the dots, read into everything that’s happening and make sense of it as a way to navigate the world with the deepest surrender and trust that you are always being guided if you choose to call upon your guides for help. If you trust your unique path, trust the road, the bumps, the glides and slides, the twists and turns, and find a way to stay even and keep your eyes on the horizon, you’ll see it’s all good, it’s all part of the way..

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Even though I skipped a whole year of sharing with you my magical thinking since my Dad passed, you can get a sense of what’s ben developed. Maybe the gap between April 2020 and now can make salient how my world has shifted. How I’ve changed and in some ways remained the same.

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I can’t tell you enough how deeply healing this writing to you is..

.

 

Thursday, May 20, 2021 4:54pm

Bel-Air

 

Dear U,

I’ve fallen behind in journaling to you. Let’s see if I can catch up…

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Woke up today with P slipping out of bed around 7am. I slept in for another hour. I woke up and decided to go for a dip in the heated pool.

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I do a few laps, I take in the view of the hills. It’a a nice hazy morning..

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P comes out tells me S, his soon-to-be-ex-personal chef, used up all his butter so now he can’t make his eggs benny.

I’m so down with her, he says.

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P introduces me to the maid, he tells her I’m from Berkeley

I’m not sure what the maid thinks, who I am. Swimming naked, walking around in a towel.

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P says he doesn’t care what the bill is, he’s gonna keep the pool heated 24/7 the whole time he’s here.

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I shower in the master bath shower. I holler for P when I’m done so he can hop in before the maid comes to clean upstairs.

 

Do you think we have time for you to cut my hair?

Sure.

So P grabs a chair ad places it in the shower, I grab my shears.

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P started talking M8 and I. I can’t remember how the conversation started

So who paid for the meals? P asked, Did you guys go dutch?

We took turns, I said.

P laughs. I’m enjoying P’s amusement.

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I kinda can’t wait to make a ton of money so I can be his sugar mama, I tell P.

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I told P about my mom’s assumption. How she thinks M8 is with me for my house. It’s nice to share with P everything. I like talking about money with him.

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Our conversation got cut short by a notary at the door.

P is acting as a power of attorney for T, his pretty wealthy friend who just closed on a house and is in Kyoto right now, so P is signing his closing docs.

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While P signs the docs, I grab the Erewhon kale salad from the fridge and scan the mini library in the living room, I think the owner is Moroccan, judging from his tteapot and tea cup collection and Moroccan books. I pull an old looking book from the shelf, Jewish History in Pictures.

I read as I eat.

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After P finished signing the docs, I continued cutting P’s hair.

It’s our ritual. I cut his hair. It always seems like the haircut comes at a next pivot point in our lives. A new venture, a new house. A new adventure..

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After the haircut, I meditated in the master bedroom facing the floor to ceiling window overlooking the hills.

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I can hear X and her team coming in. They’re setting up for the Agency lunch. I decide to hang out and meditate some more in the loft upstairs, I  with the door open to the balcony. It’s nice how every east facing room has a view.

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I can hear the stream of sugarbabies trickling into the house. X showing them around the house.

At some point, P comes in, somewhat upset. He says he doesn’t feel like having lunch with the girls and he’s gonna go out for lunch. I can come with him but he wants to leave in like 2 minutes.

I was still in my meditative space, so I told him to go without me.

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P can’t leave because he can’t find his phone, he comes in and out of the room, looking for his phone, each time a little bit more frustrated. I took it as a sign that I should take the time to get up and get dressed.

As soon as I put on my jersey overalls and top, P found his phone. It was on the toilet, he said sheepishly.

Do you wanna join me for lunch Mupps?

Sure, I said, I’m ready

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He was happy that I was coming.  As we were walking down the  stairs, he says there’s a sugar baby with a dog collar on. He asked her about her “necklace”

She asked me if I was familiar with the kink world. So I told her that I’ve dating a dominatrix for 7 years, that’s all.

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The table of 8 sugarbabies eating lunch all turned their heads as we came down the stairs.

 

What I put inside me: Sip of P’s Erewhon green juice, pistachios, a quart of Erewhon avocado kale white bean salad, some granola, sip of ‘s cocktail, lunch with P at Hotel Bel Air: a warm bread with butter, rose lychee mocktail (with a shot of Grey Goose vodka that I later have them added, bigeye tuna carparchio, 3 steak tacos, a quarter of P’s club sandwich, two fries, some broccolini; dinner at Shojin with M7,