Sunday, July 29, 2018 11:11am

Berkeley- Round Table


Dear You,

I’m trying out a new layout. I realize I can’t stand the old post layout with the landscape image on top. It always crops my photos in a way that fucks it up, which drove me slightly crazy.


Maybe artists are just people who are OCD about composition.

That’s how I justify my OCD.


If I write all of these entries to you on pages instead of posts it obviates (is that the right SAT word?) the possibility of having a blog roll in the future. I think I’m okay with that.


Is it weird how obsessive I am about the way a page feels?

All I know is that I can’t stop, I have to keep on changing it until it feels right.

It’s still not there not there yet.

Should I change this pink/lilac font to light yellow?


I need to refresh my memory on how to use photoshop and cut out objects from pictures and paste them on here as if they’re floating objects.


I want to show you the vintage ouija board I got yesterday. Wouldn’t it be cool if I had a cut out ouija board floating on this page.


Do I really need an ouija board?

It was $40.

But I’ve always wanted one

And my mom would never let me have one.


I can’t tell if I have a problem.

Like I can’t stop buying books.

I can’t stop buying things that catch my eye.

I think it’s Little Me.

She wants what she wants.

And I can’t say no to her.

I think she’s on to something.


A Billion Wicked Thoughts by Ogi Ogas and Sai Gaddam


Time to Stand Up by Thanissara

arrived today.

I ordered that on Friday night. I love Amazon Prime.


The former was recommended by F,  a friend of a friend, whom I met at a Friendsgiving party last year. She wants to shadow me and become a pro domme.

I think I’ve had over 44 women shadow me at this point

The latter was recommended by M1, my friend who inspired me to become a pro domme.


P just sent me an animoji this morning, he’s at the airport and is flying home today. Holy fuck. I thought he was coming in tomorrow?

The house is a muppet mess.

I’m still really tired and super low energy.

And I have a session today.

And P2 is coming over to take out the trash and clean the hot tub.

And I want to catch the Alain Tanner film playing at 7 tonight.

I google Alain Tanner films. Are they available on Netflix?

Apparently no. Only Salamander.

All other films are out of circulation. Fuck.

I call P. I tell him the situation. I need to catch this film tonight. He’s welcome to join. P2 may be joining us. He asks if I was originally planning on going with P2. I said yes. But he can always sit somewhere else in the theatre.

P can always tell how I massage things.

He gets in at 5, the film is at 7. He’ll most likely arrive at Mupp HQ at 6:40pm, it’s cutting it too close. I should go with P2, he says. Okay.


Omg I’m still very very tired.

I considered cancelling my session.

But it’s my sub’s birthday. And he’s been waiting all year for this.

He’s driving up from somewhere that’s 2 hours away. (Fresno?)

And he’s been looking forward to our hug he says.

I can’t not do it.

Which means I can do it.

What’s wrong with me?

I make 40 times more that what most people make in one hour.

And I somehow can’t work for one hour?


My filter: I see people who I want to see


I’ve been extra sensitive to how I feel around people.



There are two types of people:

There are energy drainers and there are energy chargers


Which one are you?


You know how you can find out?


If people keep on wanting to hang out with you after you see them, you’re probably an energy charger.

If that’s not happening, then (sorry to tell you but) you’re probably a drainer.


I think energy drainers are well-intentioned, but they’re most likely not aware of how much (attention) they need..


How do you tell someone, I think you’re draining me, can you please stop?


I need to write up the rest of my day yesterday. I was so tired it was crazy.


I’m still really tired. But I have a little bit more energy than I did yesterday.

I thought I was going to collapse after my session.

But somehow I had the energy to go to the Piedmont cemetery, Xyclo (the Vietnamese restaurant), Neighbor, Good Stock and Mercy Vintage (3 cute shops on Piedmont)

And buy an Ouija board and Annotated Alice in Wonderland (even though I already the Annotated Alice, but this one is a much older edition) and

And I went to Whole Foods to buy spring water and the essentials.

And I had a 2 and half hour conversation with D about our book project, which we’re both very super excited about.

I’ll tell you all about it when I have the energy to go back to Saturday, the 28th.


And now P is coming home. And will be here till Tuesday.

I feel slightly crazy that I haven’t given myself any alone time for the past 2 weeks.


All I want to do (when I’m not resting) is write to you and play with this layout until it feels right.


[what I remember Wednesday July 31st, 2018]

I see G at 2pm. He’s so jolly. He’s 53 now, but he has the mannerism of an 11 year old. He says he’s feeling it, the desire to have a relationship with somebody and and have shared experiences together. I never asked but I imagine he’s never had a relationship with a woman before. I guess in your 50’s you start to feel that question even more, am I going to grow old and die alone? He got promoted at work, but work is still a lot. 12 hour workdays. He has no time to date. He’s trying to clean up his diet. At my suggestion, he stopped drinking soda. I ask him what does he have for lunch. Sandwiches, Chinese food. I think he thinks Mongolian Beef is healthy. I don’t know how to explain to him that he might need a complete overhaul of his diet. If I had more energy at the time I would. [I am planning on dedicating a few pages on Pervette to talk about diet].

He has a good disposition about everything because anything crunchy that comes up he just “laughs at it.”

Sensual domination and tease and denial is the focus of the session. He just needs touch.

I did it. A session. On the very last bit of energy that I had. I was present for him and I listened.

10 min after I got home, P2 arrived. He cleaned the hot tub and refilled it, picked up the deer poop on the front terrace (he thinks it’s raccoon poop), and swept the house.

He said that he read about how I think my friends are sad for me that I’m selling the house. He says he’s selfishly sad because he loves being here, in the space that I put together, he loves my typewriters and books. He’s had so many wonderful memories here. He’s sad that it’s going to end. Somehow his sadness makes me feel better. Like it’s not just me that’s waxing nostalgic about this magical place.

As P2 sweeps, I call A4 (randomly gave her a number 4 because she feels like a 4 to me)  at 5:09pm. I told her I would call her. This is the first time we’ve talked on the phone.

I can tell in her voice that she’s been through a lot. I thought it might’ve been health issues. She had a stroke last year and almost died. But it wasn’t that. With all that’s going on with her we didn’t get into me saying sorry and explaining why I was so flakey and terrible with not responding to her texts and IG messages. In fact, she even sent me a farewell text in May.

I tell her

I want to start a veil movement.

I think the veil can sexually liberate us.

It allows us to express ourselves while still maintaining our anonymity and privacy.

Basically I want to make porn and erotic art with my friends and I think they would be more down if they had a veil

I would love it if you can make veils for me.


Omg you’re reading my mind, A said. She’s gone to so many sex parties where she held herself back because she didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of being too slutty.


The veil allows us to be the sluts that we want to be

Without the shame


She’s super excited and happy that I thought of her. She loves how we’re building each other up.




I catch Alain Tanner’s Middle of the World with P2. He holds Cutie on his lap.

Every now and then when the film is bright and there’s enough light in the theatre, we both look at Cutie. She’s so fucking cute.


We walk out of the theatre with a hmmm. Then P2 says he was kinda let down.


I told him I liked how the waitress didn’t run away with the engineer, even thought he said he’s going to leave his wife for her.

It’s kinda common how men trade in their wives for a younger woman.

I wish I wrote the last few lines of the film down..

It went something like..

Gerard knew what he wanted. But what he wanted didn’t exact genuine change.

Marianne knew what she didn’t want. And from it was able to create a genuine change.


Another line I liked and wrote down in the dark:

“When a man sees a woman naked, he thinks he knows her”


So true. I’m totally gonna appropriate that.


I can’t remember what happened when I got home. Other than P was home.

Oh yes. Now I remember.

P2 dropped me off and waited outside the front door while I came into the kitchen and pulled some stuff from the fridge that I wasn’t going to eat but wanted to give to P2. P was in the kitchen pulling baked brussel sprouts out of the oven.

While I was at the movies, he flew into Oakland and went to Whole Foods.


We ate his brussel sprouts together. I tried not to eat too much since that was all he was having for dinner.

I can’t remember what we talked about. I could go back to the recording to find out.


Oh I remember. I told P how tired I am and how I’ve been sessioning lately.

Oh wow. You had a session today, he says sarcastically.

Jesus. How does he do that? Make me sound (and feel) so pathetic.


What I put inside me: Lemoon water, microdose of shorroms and lion’s mane, claypot catfish and jasmine rice, yucan crackers and pistachio butter, 1/3 of the chocolate bar She got fro me from Tulum, 1/3 bag of Have a Corn Chips, 2 eggs tacos (that I made for P2 as well), some brussel sprouts that P made, and a small bowl of bing cherries


Monday, July 30th, 2018 1:44pm

Berkeley – Round Table


Dear You,

Guess what?  I have a whole day to myself. P’s in the office till 9ish tonight, company pizza or film party. I let him take my car.  Yay! I’m stranded, with a kitchen full of snacks.

I actually got up in a weird way and my back started to ache. So I’ve been laying on the biomat, listening to podcasts, masturbating, reading Time to Stand Up and I just cracked open M’s book, Unwifeable. 

My back was out, I now have an excuse to do nothing but everything that I want.

Which is to write (to you), read, masturbate (I already come like 5 times, I think I’m done for the day), meditate, and maybe watch a short film.

Oh shit, I can feel the shrooms I just took. I thought the capsules J made for me was just a micro dose?


I just ordered a Berkey water filter. Since P, A and D all own one.

It feels like when 3 intelligent people you know own and rave about something, you should definitely own that thing too.

I’ve been really craving really clean water lately. Hence the frequent trips to the store to buy spring water (in paper bottles).

My sink filter plus Soma water filter isn’t cutting it. With the Berkey filter, my  water will be triply filtered.

I heard somewhere you’re supposed to give your body spring, tap and sparkling water.


When you’re about to grab your credit card to buy something online but get distracted by Cutie and your masturblanket (as in the childhood blanket I still masturbate with).


After the biomat and 1 Level THCA protab, my back is almost back to normal.


Is this week 5? Does that mean I’m 4 weeks behind in filling the details of my days? Oh you think I can’t do it. I’m totally gonna go back and fill in the gaps. There are so many. I feel like I’ve only given you the trivial bits.

So far I’ve only written to remember

What I was about to forget.


The things I can’t forget I don’t write until I have the time.


I’m so happy I have this day all to myself.


A texted, M wants to know if she provide a link to a snippet of my “Tedtalk” portion of the workshop to the London Times article. My gut reaction says no. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m a perfectionist or because I’m afraid of being vulnerable. What she wants to put out there is the first 10 minutes of my workshop, which was actually an improv of me declaring all of my past shame.

It’s like coming out to the world.

I feel like I could only do it if I edit it myself and I was sure that it would be understood, that the message wasn’t decontextualized in some way. I don’t know. I don’t want to go back to the video just yet and watch myself get all vulnerable. That was really intense.

Today’s my day of rest. I can’t revisit.


I text my sister, do you have a minute to chat?

Sure. I call her.

I ask her how’s the market. She says things are kinda slow in the East Bay. She went with a client last weekend to check out 9 houses that they saw a listing for the week before, and those 9 houses were ALL still available. I tell her that I think late September might be too soon to put the house on the market. At the earliest we can do early October. She thinks that’s not a good idea.

I ask her if not then, then when’s the next best time to sell the house. She says the week or two after Super Bowl.


But she tells me it’s chancey, we don’t know how the market will turn. She’ll check on that comp house we saw, if it’s sold or not. That’ll be a good indicator.


This morning I told P while he was making pancakes that I want to get into giving talks, I think if I give myself a year, I can land decently-sized speaking gigs on intimacy and relationships. People give talks on how to be successful in their career, but what about relationships? I think people are hungry for knowledge on intimacy and communication. He looks at me and gives me that uh-huh face, like I’m all talk and ideas.

I can’t tell how I should feel when he does that.

It’s true, I’m full of ideas, and so far, none of them have “paid off.”

Does he not see that it’s a process. And I’m just at the very beginning.

Maybe he thinks I’m just a mupp.

It’s true, my approach is very muppety and un-businesslike.

I mean, my marketing strategy is “make lip balm.”

It would be nice to have more emotionally supportive partner. I think he knows that I already get a lot of that from my friends and subs. But still, it would be nice to hear it from him

Does he not believe in me?

Or is it because his mom has never said to him, I believe in you.

All I know is that when he gives me that uh huhhh look

I just can’t wait to prove him wrong.

Is that his approach? Dismiss me until I have something real or tangible to show him?

I guess it’s working.




On the biomat

My sister texts me, that house is still on the market.

Oh shit. Maybe it’s a sign to wait? I text her back.

She replies, Fingers crossed that it’s just a temporary slowdown and not a sign of the market shifting!!!


M e-mailed and wanted me to give another pass to her rewrite with the editor’s edits.

Whoa. I love the ending. Way sexier. I have to admit, I love that she mentions me in the beginning, middle and end. I told her if she can replace “hamburgler-like” with “superhero-like” to describe the masked dominatrix, I would be so pleased.

She replies, totally. And that she’s not trying to trigger me with her “dumbass words. I’m just trying to be funny and shit.”


I finally got around to putting a fraud alert on my mom’s credit accounts. I call her up to ask for her social security number. She says that her friend has randomly retrieved her phone at the gym today when she was looking for her missing keys.

Interesting. I thought about the string of events.. I asked her, What have we learned from this?

She asks, what?

Put a passcode on your phone. Don’t leave pictures of your social security card, driver’s license and credit card on your phone, and maybe the world isn’t that untrustworthy as we thought. And also it’s probably a good idea to remember your own apple id and password and not rely on me.

She agrees and adds, But I always forget.

Then write it down on a pink piece of paper and put it in your purse or something. I feel like our roles are reversed sometimes.


I tell her I don’t think September is the right time to put the house on the market. I’m feeling into Febraury or March. She says she feels it too. Since it’s my bad year and all, she thinks it’s a good idea to wait to the next lunar year.

I tell her if she can pray for the house to be sold at the right time, that would be great.

Somehow when I tell her to pray for something specific for me, she always perks up.

She’s actually doing my astrological altar ritual prayer thing tonight. And tomorrow is Guan yin day, she’ll pray for me tonight and tomorrow.

I thank her.

Everything feels good between us, we get off the phone.

My swatch watch is just sitting there, so I put it on. I turn around and examine the arial hoop. The old tape was looking quite gray and tattered. So I add a new layer of tape. There’s an art to making it all even. I chalk it up. My back is still but not as sore. I do a little spin on it. Maybe I still have time to learn a few tricks on this thing..


P texts. He says he’s in a hipster cafe and they’re playing Beach House. I love you!

Wow. He’s in a good mood.

And so is my mom.

And so am I now that I’m finally resting.

Something happened. All the tension is gone. Everything feels light and hopeful.


Walk, read, write?

Maybe I’ll hop in the hot tub and read..


[from what I can remember, written on Tuesday the 31st]

I got in the hot tub, read a passage from Hunger Reality. it’s insane how that book affirms everything I’m doing on Pervette.


I meditated. Then I got antsy and got out. I wanted to go for a walk. But I was too tired. So I laid a picnic blanket out on the front lawn and laid there with Cutie, my books, and notebook, staring up at the sky, too antsy to fall asleep, I got a zafu and meditated for 11 min, then I though about folding the laundry that’s been sitting on top of the dryer. I folded 2 towels, then abandoned it and started cleaning up the egg taco mess I made. After I washed the dishes, I went for a walk. That noise I heard earlier, they were cutting down the trees that lined the way path from the house to the park. I pass a neighbor walking her dog, one had a black mesh veil over its entire head (I wonder how that would look on humans?). We talked about the trees being cut down, I guess the trees were getting old and had shallow roots and possibly a fire hazard. But what about the great horned owls? They need a home too. She said if I walked further down I’ll might be able to catch them flying around.

I did.


I know that I should be meditating more. I feel like I can reach an altered state if I do. even 10 minutes does something trippy. Why am I so lazy?


P comes home at 8:34. I make us a salad with spinach, cored and seeded heirloom tomatoes, avocados, blueberries, walnuts, almonds, hard boiled eggs and a balsamic vinaigrette that also has liquid aminos red wine vinegar, nutritional yeast and tons of spices. He’s blown away by my salad. It’s so yummy, and he usually doesn’t even like spinach, he says. I started making these salads a year and a half ago when I started cooking for reals. Funny how I never had the chance to make him a salad until now.

We’re too tired for the hot tub. We lay on the biomat.

2 mupps 1 mat.

Plus Cutie.

I love it when he holds Cutie.

I think I love him more when he plays with her.

I thought he was ready for bed. But he suggested we have sex.

We hopped into bed.

How do I describe our sex?

It feels like two kids getting ready to play.

His cock is way above average. My pussy feels pretty tight from 2 weeks or so of just masturbating and not fucking around.

It’s a welcoming process of him opening me up.

I try not to think about anything other than his cock inside me.

My sounds guide his rhythm.

I can tell he’s trying to hold out and not come just yet.

When I had my fill, I thank him.

And then he comes.

I think he gets turned on when a girl thanks him.


Is it a girl thing or an abandonment thing or just purely a physiological thing, but I like it when he doesn’t pull out after he comes, and I fall asleep in his arms still connected.


We eventually get up, he rinses, I baby wipe, we turn out the lights in the house. I dim the lights in the bedroom just enough so I can see Cutie’s head poking out from underneath the sheets,

Are you going to turn out the lights? P asks

I just want to stare at Cutie for 2 minutes.

Okay. You can have more than 2 minutes, little mupps

Aww thanks Mupps.


What I put inside me: Lemon water, 1 and a half plantain pancakes and sip of green smoothie D made, cinnamon rose tulsi tea, Level THCA protab (for my back), micro-dose of shrooms and lion’s mane, 2 tacos I made with almond flour tortilla, eggs, avocados, tomatoes (cored and seeded), sautéed spinach and hickory brussel sprouts, parmesan cheese and chipotle hot sauce; a salad that I made for me and P and a bowl of cherries

Tuesday, July 31st, 2018 9:13am

Berkeley- Moon Room- On the biomat


Dear You,

I wonder what’s the effect of skipping my morning pages and writing to you directly? I feel like I only have so many words in a day. Do I save it for myself or share it with you? My impulse is to share otherwise it feels like a waste.

I’m noticing more and more that I prefer to share with you my thoughts and feelings and the quotidien (SAT word!) aspects of my day more than the eventful moments. I think it has something to do with my fear of forgetting. I know what I’ll remember and I know what I might forget. And it’s these fleeting details that I don’t want to forget.


Am I deluding myself thinking I’ll go back and fill in the rest of my days. Will you only get what I have enough energy to write. It feels like mid-morning is my writing peak. And then I’m off doing my thing, whatever that is, for the rest of the day. It feels like you only get what I’m feeling at the near start of my day.


Are you curious to know what the rest of my days are like?


A sub I haven’t seen in over a year or two just confirmed for our session tonight at 6:30

(It feels like I’m taking way more sessions than usual).

He attached an image of a fortune cookie fortune form last night’s dinner:

You will be reunited with old friends before the month is out.

His emails are always short but eludes to how he’s thinking of me.

I’m looking forward to seeing him.

I remember us having really good chemistry.


I woke up early with P, before 7am.

We skipped the hot tub and went straight to green smoothie and plantain pancakes.

I ask P for the non PDF version of the plantain pancakes so I can paste it here for Q.

P made the most perfect pancakes. Mine are always burnt on the outside and gooey in the center.


You’re more of an improv cook. I’m a precision cook, he tells me. Very true.





After today, P has been on the plane 6 times in 9 days.

He’s at NEMA right now doing a walk through of the unit. They’ll notice that he took out the carpet in the bedrooms and put in hardwood floors and changed the lighting fixtures. For a rental, he took the liberty of upgrading it. And now he’s probably gonna have to pay for it.

Are C1 and C2 still there?  I ask P.

C2 is in Columbia and C1 is gonna hop around next month. She did a clever thing where she put an announcement on Facebook that she’s down to spend a week and do a marketing powwow with 4 people in August in exchange for housing for a week. 200 or so replied. So she’ll be NY, LA and somewhere else.

I kinda regret that I didn’t hang out with C1 and C2 more when they were here, they’re both brilliant fun gals. And now they’re gone. But we were all so busy.

I did get to pop C1’s threesome cherry. And C2 got to shadow me in session.

It was a good call on letting them know that they need to be out by the end of the month, P says, that way we have two weeks to clean out the space.

P let C1 and C2 stay at NEMA for free for the past 6 months. That’s like $50,000 of free housing.

He really is a sugar daddy at heart.


I feel like I have 66% Energy.

I have energy to clean.

I finally folded the laundry that was sitting on top of the dryer for the past 3 weeks. And just did a load of towels.

I think deep cleaning actually rewires your brain.


I see why Chi is used to


I’m gonna go back and catch you up on yesterday..



Round Table

Dear You,

I have a question. Do you feel like you know me yet?

I wonder if that’s (unknowingly) my goal.

I think so.

I’m trying to show you what I see.


I keep on thinking about T’s friend G (whom I have yet to meet).

She told T that she stumbled into my site and now she feels like she knows me.

I love finding out the effects of this thing I’m doing, writing to you.

Sometimes it feels like I’m writing in the dark.

I like knowing how these words land.

Q’s afraid that it might make me too self- aware and change the way I write.

But I guess I want to change a little.

Or a lot.


I think Pervette evolves when I know that you exist and that you’re following me down this rabbithole.

Have I told you what I want to do?


I want to remember.

I want to change the way you think.

I want to connect with you.

I want to do some sort of awesome project with you

I want to make art

I want to make love.

I want that love and art making to have the potential to make money

So that it can support me and my friends making art and making love

I have this crazy idea that if I work really word

Pervette can become something way larger than me

And it can be a hub, a vehicle in supporting all of my friends

And their art

I think we all want to do something meaningful.



P talked me into it. I got high on a new Level vape

Special Edition: Viper Cookies

It’s a very clear headed strain, I like it.

P’s making broccoli puff, I should go help with the flaxseed muffins..



On the biomat


Dear You,

I shouldn’t be writing to you at this hour. All this blue light might keep me up.

But I don’t want to forget..


At 11:11pm I said a prayer to Guan Yin.

At 9:44pm I made it to Whole Foods with 16 min to stock up on Flow spring water and Hu chocolate bars.

At 9:02pm She left a message. And I saw 2 missed calls from Her. Apparently She had stopped by when I was at the dungeon.


P remarks it’s been a while since I had sex with another guy. It’s true. Probably over a year..



P2 says there’s something very compelling about the way Cutie looks.


P2 reports that Cutie’s blog has 2 new followers. But they’re porn blogs, which doesn’t make any sense to him.


I couldn’t stop eating tamari almonds today.



I have a strange craving for spring water these past few days, hence the frequent trips to whole Foods.

List goals, like get in shape, practice the aerial hoop and silk, get solid on plant paradox diet, carve new levels on pervette and follow through


List things I buy to make me more aware of my impulses and to show you what businesses I support.


“Quotes and Notes”


Add to wishlist: vintage cassette tape player and Sony walkman and Deric Wan tapes or cds under Help Me Remember

Also Alive TV, that PBS show.



Actually. I should shut this computer and take notes in my notebook.


I just got a vintage Panasonic Slimline Cassette Player off ebay.

The minute it’s on my mental wishlist, I gotta have it like right now.







Wednesday, August 1, 2018 11:22am

Berkeley – Round Table


Dear You,

I’m in a strange mood. I can’t stop OCD cleaning the house.

I woke up this morning around 7 to the sound of what I thought was Her in the house. It sounded like she was moving around gathering her things. But then I realized, it wasn’t Her. It’s the crazy bird pecking at the window. I should mention that when I say pecking, I mean it’s flapping around and trying to fly through the window, repeatedly for 40 minutes.

I was somewhat annoyed that I was woken up from a dream where there interesting clues, which I can’t remember now. In the dream me and others were invited to Elon’s estate for a multi day psychedelic trip. On the third day, instead of the planned mushroom trip, he proposed we drive a metal stake into our right shoulder. Not too many people were into that even though he claimed it was gonna be trippy. I was kind of down if it really had the trippy effects as he promised. I ended up following him around. I found a scrap of paper and a flat bottle of bleach to write on as I asked him questions about his lovelife. He seem happy to answer as I wrote quickly. He was in an 11 year relationship, I was surprised to find out. I walked through a “neighborhood” that looked like a clean indoor Asian strip mall. Each home or storefront had these frosted glass windows in their cabinets where I can vaguely make out the Buddhist altars from behind. I tried on a really cool opalescent or gold tool belt with pockets that I wanted to get. It seem like a way better version of a fanny pack for Burning Man.

Anyways, when I found out it was 7:21am and I’m pretty awake and prolly can’t go back to sleep, when I what I wanted was to sleep in today, I was kinda annoyed.

I masturbated, that kinda helped, just a tad, and then I tried to record my dream but the ink in my pen was stuck so it made my writing really jaggedly. Perhaps it was the way I wrote out my dream, annoyed at the ink, my hand applying pissed off pressure that started my day in this slightly irritated way.

It could also be that I was so looking forward to having this day mostly all to myself. But then She texted last night and was hoping to come by in the morning for a hot drink visit. I couldn’t say no, but I wish I did. Because I just wanted this morning to write to you.

I don’t think I’m ready to see anybody.

I suggested 11:11 or after so that I can sleep in. But I didn’t even get to do that. Because I got woken up by what I thought was Her.

Masturbating didn’t quite help. Cleaning like crazy kinda helped. The kitchen is spotless. Every dish I use I wanna wash right away. I picked up all the tools P left scattered in the gym when he was putting together the electric bike. I swept, laid out my yoga mat and did 10 push ups. That kinda helped.




Dear You,

I don’t know what to say other than I knew I should’ve said no.

I’m starting to question everything I’m doing here. Writing to you.

I want to reveal myself to you. But maybe I’m revealing too much about the lives of others around me. It’s difficult. Because my life is nothing but a relationship to everybody.

I thought I was doing a decent job of keeping everyone anonymous. But I guess the litmus test is to let the others read for themselves and see what they think.

They think I’m a selfish person with no regard for their feelings.

Maybe I should delete a lot of what I wrote.


How do I share with you my reality if I can’t talk about my feelings and the things that happened to me? Am I supposed to keep it to myself? Like a normal person.


I was drained before, now I feel my heart racing. I don’t know what I’m doing. Am what I’m doing right now that bad?

Yes, I understand that as I’m writing to you, I’m on the extreme end of sharing. And there are those (around me) who want to stay private.

But I was only trying to write about how I feel, they’re my own experiences.

I feel sick.

Maybe I should abandon this.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m just a few weeks into this.


I went back to the second week. As I look back (maybe it’s the mood I’m in) I have no desire to fill in the details anymore. What was once important to me feels like too much work.


What am I doing? What’s going on here?

I can’t tell you what just happened. I have to maintain “their privacy.”

Can I tell you what I said?

I feel like I’m being ambushed.


I didn’t expect any of this.

What I thought was a pleasant visit over a hot drink turned into something the opposite..

A very dramatic goodbye.

A taskrabbit is here.

To remove all traces of Her.

Words were read, here.



I did what?


Is it my narcissism that doesn’t allow me to see when I’ve overstepped boundaries? Do I have a way of justifying everything I do as okay?


Is this how I ruin friendships?


I’m flawed.

I know.


But I was trying to be neutral.

If I was critical, it was only directed to myself.

I have to go back.



I feel very confused. And kinda awful.






Dear You,

I feel way better now.

Sometimes it just takes a conversation with an unbiased perspective to help you see the bigger picture.


Am I selfish for writing to you in the way that I do?


What does oversharing mean when it’s my perspective?


Quite honestly, I think it’s interesting that no one is a reliable narrator really, especially when we’re all narcissists here.

I am trying to be honest. Perhaps I’m too shameless to confess that I love snooping.

But no journals were read or anything like that. I just observed how beautifully She arranged Her linen.


I swear I’m trying my best to share my world as I see it. I like to think that I’m also trying to show you my flaws as I see it.

Maybe if I share with you enough, you can show me what I can’t see.


I don’t mind too much if I get framed as the bad one.

Or do I?


My intentions are pure. I promise.

Sure. That’s what all narcissists say

When they’re trying to get away with things.


What are you afraid of?  The way I see you?


If you know who you are, does it matter what I think?


Have you seen the film Persona?

Do you remember how it ends?


I think this is how I turn the negative around.

I write it out. it’s a ritual now. It’s my process. This is how I sublimate.


Oh please don’t roll your eyes at me.


I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not gonna stop sharing with you.

I’m just going to get more creative.

I accept the challenge of maintaining everyone’s privacy.


Is this what they mean by poetic license?


What I can’t promise is that I won’t offend you.


This is what I keep on going back to to justify why I will continue

It’s what “Dare to Memoir” teacher said:

Memoir is a dare because when you actually put the words on the page and let others read it, you may very cause offense – and the closer to you that they are, the more likely it is that they will be the ones to be offended. Your mother, maybe, or your ex-husband. Your story may not be the story they have in their own mind. “It didn’t happen that way.” “I never said that or treated you that way.” So the dare is to remember whose story you are writing.


This is my story. These are the things that happened (to me). This is how I felt.


No one is right. No one is wrong. No one is good. No one is bad. We are all playing a part.


I know.

I push buttons.


I swear it’s not about you.

It’s about me.




Dear You,

Wow. Crazy how I can feel so many emotions in the span of 11 hours.

Tired and irritated (upon waking up). Determined (to clean). Guarded with the visit. Confused at what was said.. Gaslit (is that an emotion?). Upset. And then…


Something happened. I wrote it out. Everything I felt.

The process was so cathartic.

I think you are my listener.

I think I was heard.

And now I feel way better.


It was an unplanned unconscious decoupling kinda day.

It was kinda super intense.

But I see a clearing now.

And I feel light.

And my energy is (surprisingly) back.

Maybe that’s what was draining me.



The glass orb that holds the moon water by the windowsill is gone.

The coffeepress is gone.

The 2 sheepskin rugs are gone.

The crystal dangling in the kitchen window is gone.

The large Guan Yin statue holding a pearl in the backyard is gone.


All that’s left are two candles burning, one in the newly restored guest room and and the other in the toad room. And a rose that was handed to me (which I put on my Guan Yin altar).


I dreaded this morning, not knowing why. And then I knew why.

But maybe the dramatic goodbye had to happen just in this way for me to feel the dramatic shift of a heavy weight lifted.


It’s so strange.

How 24 hours ago, I thought today was gonna be a relaxing day unwinding..

I guess everything did get unwound.



Dear You,

I’ll catch you up on the rest of my day. Around 6pm I realized I haven’t eaten all day. When my nerves get all wound up, I have no appetite.

But I decided I should eat. So I made myself a salad.

Earlier in the day P asked for my salad recipe.

Recipe? I kinda just throw things I see around me in a bowl.

I guess I do have a recipe


Giant bed of spinach or spring mix

1 handful of blueberries

1 avocado

1-2 hardboiled eggs with a gooey golden center

1 small tomato peeled and seeded and diced

1 handful of tamari almonds


For the Dressing

balsamic vinegar

olive oil

red wine vinegar

Bragg liquid aminos

dash of nutritional yeast

dash of salt, pepper, thyme, rosemary, basil, garlic powder, and cayenne

Add all dressing ingredients into a bowl and whisk, then pour all over the bed of greens and stuff

Then go nom nom nom!


It was such a yummy salad. It felt good to make food and take care of myself. I also had a cup of bone broth.

I tried to eat as mindfully as I can in the time I can, which was 11 min. I wanted to catch the 7pm showing of Antonioni’s early short films at the PFA. I zipped down the hill and made it to the theatre at 7:04. P2 saved a seat for me. I handed Cutie to him. He carefully held her on his lap and the three of us watched 10 short films. My favorite ones were on picture comics, superstition, and suicide.

After the film, P2 walked me to my car. He must’ve read Pervette right before he went to the movies because he said that his dad wrote a memoir and got a ton of shit from his family.

But you can’t let what other think stop you, he said.

Can you tell what was going on? I asked. I thought I wrote cryptically.

He said vaguely. He knew I was in doubt.


He said Cutie’s tumblr got 4 likes, 2 reposts, and 1 new follower. And the new follower isn’t even a porn site.


He said that when he’s feeling down, just looking at a picture of Cutie can make him feel better.

I tell him I totally feel the same way.


I’m excited about my day tomorrow. It’s truly a day all to myself.

I’m gonna write to you. So hard.


I’m so grateful for this day. As crazy as it was. I’m so grateful that I have you (and my words) as my outlet.  I’m so grateful for this space. .  .  .



Things I put inside me: Lemoon water, brain tea I made, 2 small plantain pancakes, a hot drink I made for me and Her (Bulletproof chocolate collagen protein, royal maca, mucana pruriens, gelatized maca, vanilla bean powder, cacao, cinnamon, cayenne, real salat, mct oil, coconut oil, ginger), a giant salad I made, beef bone broth, Flow spring water, green smoothie I made

Things I bought today: Vintage Panasonic Slimline cassette player for $26.99, giant sheepskin rug for $219, medium sized sheepskin rug for $119 (for a Goddess photoshoot next Wednesday), A movie ticket (student admission) to the PFA for Antonioni’s early short films for $5



Thursday, August 2, 2018, 9:27am


Dear You,

Oh my god. I feel amazing. I seriously woke up dancing out of bed.


It’s insane how dramatically different I feel from 24 hours ago.


I just did my morning pages, 10 pushups. I feel like chanting. Or singing…


The hills are alive!

With the sound of music!


I can’t tell you how in awe I am of this shift. It’s all energy. Things hold energy. Relationships hold energy.

When everything around me (physically) is restored to how it was before, my energy is restored.

Or maybe it’s when all things get sorted and there’s no reason to return (to grab this or that), that’s closure.


Maybe yesterday was the completion of the decoupling.


Just googled conscious decoupling.

Oh right, it’s actually called conscious uncoupling.

I think yesterday was more of a unconscious decoupling,

But the effect felt like a conscious uncoupling.


My feeling amazing right now could also be from my super clean eating yesterday.

Maybe there was a reason why I was craving spring water these past few weeks when I was feeling drained.

I’m just trying to understand, how I can feel so different so quickly?


I think it’s definitely the closure, the completion, the literal clearing,

As in the literal things have been sorted out, and now we’ve reached the point of no return.

I didn’t even know it hit me until it did.

The zero hour just happened.

Nothing moving forward will be like what it once was.

I hope.

I can feel the space.


It’s so crazy, how visceral this feeling is.


I wish every breakup of yours can feel like this.


Maybe more than wish, maybe I can just give you my toolkit.


The most important tools:

Pen and paper or computer

Friends or anyone you can talk to who has a clear perspective


I felt something when I was writing to you yesterday in the midst of the tension.

I felt the tension dissolve as I was writing to you.

There’s something to this.


Knowing that you’re reading this, feeling me, thinking of me, maybe even sending me strength and love, I don’t know.

I don’t know, I just know that something happened.

Because I felt it.


So if you were or are, thank you.


My words to

You are my outlet.


Pervette, pervette, pervette. It’s always all about pervette.


That’s what I used to hear.

That’s probably the reason why it had to end.


I know I know. I’m slightly (or not slightly) monomaniacal.


But why?

Because I’m fixated on my dream.

A vision that’s so clear to me, it’s almost real.

And I know that the only thing that’s holding me back from it being real is me.

(Or the relationships I’m in that don’t support it)


Supposedly if I were to focus on the intimacy of my “real” relationship it might feed into the intimacy that I’m trying to build with you.


Am I ready to talk about what happened?



I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel bad for not feeling bad for what I did which I don’t think was that bad.

(I was looking for something that was mine in my own home. And then I wrote about looking for that thing to you, here on Pervette)


I want to investigate “gaslighting”


I only know the term vaguely. It was introduced to me by my lover 3 years ago.

When I had my lover back then, my relationship with P was insanely tumultuous.

Tons of fighting and I was crying a ton.

He was “gaslighting” me, my lover said.


The term is coming back up.

One of the woman at the breakup bootcamp last week asked what it meant.


The word

Came back to me yesterday.

Because I thought I felt it.

What does it feel it?


It’s crazy-making. That’s what it feels like.

Absolute crazy-making.


First you will feel like shit.


Words that may cause you to feel like shit may include:

How could you??

After all I’ve done

Lots of emotion is attached to it.

You feel their hurtness.

Therefore you feel terrible.

You question everything

You’re doing.

Because you didn’t have any bad intentions.

And somehow you really fucked it up.


So anyways, I felt like shit

Because I was writing to you about what I did.


My words were read.

And I was supposedly caught doing this “bad thing”

But how can I be “caught” if I was already sharing what I was doing

With you.




“You” are essentially everybody

To me


They’re chopping and sawing the trees down outside. It makes me a little sad that years of growth and maturation can be chopped down in a matter of minutes. And the noise. It’s super distracting..


Just googled “gaslighting in a relationship”

   “Some people try to be tall by cutting off the heads of others.”

 —Paramahansa Yogananda


According to Psychology Today..

Gaslighting is a form of persistent manipulation and brainwashing that causes the victim to doubt her or himself, and ultimately lose her or his own sense of perception, identity, and self-worth. The term is derived from the 1944 film Gaslight, in which a husband tries to convince his wife that she’s insane by causing her to question herself and her reality.

In its milder forms, gaslighting creates a subtle, but inequitable, power dynamic in a relationship, with the gaslightee subjected to the gaslighter’s unreasonable, rather than fact-based, scrutiny, judgment, or micro-aggression. At its worst, pathological gaslighting constitutes a severe form of mind-control and psychological abuse. Gaslighting can occur in personal relationships, at the workplace, or over an entire society.


Oh shit. I was right.


I was totally gaslit.

In its “milder forms.”


How much wood could a woodchuck chuck..


How much crazy could a crazymaking make if a crazymaking could make crazy?


I swept the two empty rooms, saged it, showered, and made myself a ginormous salad, which I ate outside on the grass.

The tree-cutting has stopped.

Maybe I’ll go meditate. Get high. And get started on my third writing assignment for my Dare to Memoir class…


Oh I just had a thought.


It’s very important to talk about what happened.

If you keep it inside. You will go crazy.




Dear You,

To escape the sound of the tree chopping, I went out and dropped off P’s dry cleaning, then to Pharmac and loaded up on supplements. And finally to the grocery to get the staples. See below.


I bumped into my neighbor F as I was rolling out of the driveway. The kitchenette isn’t going to be put in his in-law by fall as he expected. Permits. I told him I’m not sure if we’re gonna put the house on the market by September. I suggest that maybe we time it so that his in-law be ready by the time we put our house on the market. That would be ideal. I just a want a space to hold all my books. His in-law unit, from what I can tell, has the best view of all of Berkeley. I tell him that I love it here. Even though I might be in LA more, Iit would be nice to have a landing pad here. Apparently he built his house in 1973. It was one of the first houses on the lot. There were just low shrubs when he got here. All these trees in this cul de sac was just form the past 3 decades. He’s gonna organize a fire prevention meeting he says, to take care of these trees. It’s  a tinder box  That time of the year is coming. And what have we done since our fire incident last year? Which was very scary, btw. Because I was here.


I dropped off the dry cleaners.

2 of P’s Acne tshirts and a pair of his Acne jeans.

Is this a skirt or a dress?, the young Indian girl behind the counter asks as she holds up my lederhosen-like skirt from L’ecole des Femmes.

It’s more a skirt, I said.

But you wear it like a dress?

Yeah, kinda.

After she gives me my invoice, she leans in and says in a hush tone that my friend still has her clothes here, it’s been a while.


When I got back, I tried on all my burning man clothes that I ordered a few weeks ago and arrived when I was in NY. I’m pretty much returning all of them except for some leather pieces that were made in Russia (with love and by hand, they claim).


I try on the Maje black tank top (not a Burnign Man item). The XS feels slightly too small, the bottom of armpits are sticking out. That’s never flattering. And the crisscross neck (which looks cool and is the reason why I got it) feels suffocating. I can try to lose 4 pounds and maybe it won’t look and feel so small and tight.

I’m not gonna torture myself. I’m returning it.


My Deric Wan cd from China arrived. My Tivoli cd player isn’t working. I try sticking it in my apple external drive and it won’t recognize the cd, nor eject it. Fuck me. It’s stuck.


I got high. I was about to sit down and read what my next writing assignment was, but then I heard some more chain-sawing sound, near the house. Then some yelling, threatening yelling. I grab my recorder and ran outside to my backyard in my tank top and panties. I crouch on the grass and watch the commotion through my fence.

My next door neighbor, M, was threatening to beat up my sweet old neighbor, T, from up the hill. She always give me the biggest hugs and tells me how much she loves me and she always recounts how my next door neighbor, whom she calls Weirdo, bullies her. Now I see what she’s talking about.

He always fake smiles at me when he used to walk his dog, B, when it was still alive (it died earlier this year).

P thinks our neighbor is crazy and creepy because he wrote us an email about how we’re throwing away light bulbs in our trash (which means he’s been going through our trash) and apparently he’s a part of some committee that makes sure we don’t throw away hazardous things.


Apparently he was weed-wacking all T’s flowers in their shared driveway. He calls them weeds and he said she called them weeds too. She never called them weeds, she claimed. They push each other. He starts weed-wacking her flowers. She pulls the plug on his weed-wacker, he tells her to get off his property. She says he’s ruining her property.

Incomsummate idiot, stupid s.o.b. are some names he calls her.

He says her “weeds” are a fire hazard.

Should I go out there? He sounds like he’s gonna snap. But she is slightly talking to him in a taunting tone. It feels like two kids egging each other on in the playground. I don’t want to be the playground monitor.

You’re the bully!

No you’re the bully!

She’s calling the cops.


It’s weird how an hour ago 100 feet away, I was having a conversation with my other neighbor taking about fire hazards as well, but the tone was way more pleasant..


On to the assignment:


Let’s consider childhood memories. When we write of our childhood, we are probably writing with two voices and perspectives – that of the child at the time, and the reflective voice of the present. Together these weave a pattern that, as we learn to decipher it, charts our life journey…

..In the world of written stories, the truths we present to readers ring most believable when they are fashioned to include new insights we couldn’t quite grasp at the time…

..What happened to the writer is not what matters; what matters is the large sense that the writer is able to make of what happened..

..Research has confirmed that writing about emotionally charged memories is good for the health of the writer—and not just her psyche.


In April 1999, the Journal of the American Medical Association published a study that linked writing about stressful life experiences to improved health. But as reported in the Chicago Tribune, Joshua M. Smyth, the study’s co-author, cautioned, “It actually has little to do with raw catharsis, which, I think, is what people assume.” Smyth explains that the health benefits were a result of cognitive restructuring—learning to think about problems in a new way—along with changing levels of stress and anxiety. So while the initial writing—the first draft—may provide a cathartic effect, the lasting benefit comes from seeing the problem in a new light—the organizing, editing, and structuring of a piece of writing.

But what of the cathartic effect? Should we be so quick to dismiss it? I imagine catharsis as an evolutionary adaptation, nature’s mechanism of positive reinforcement. Catharsis feels good, so writers seek to recreate the experience, in this case by continuing to write about troubling experiences. This initial purge can lead to mulling over, which results in new ways of seeing old problems and an evolution of thought.

Writers, no matter their genre, find inspiration to write from the same source: something they hear or see or otherwise experience stays with them. They can’t stop musing; they must investigate. Writing is another form of problem solving. Like psychology or medicine, it’s a drive to understand the human condition experientially, one that’s led by emotion and instinct. The success of a piece of writing is proven by readers connecting with the writer’s words, knowing on some basic level that what the writer has composed touches on a truth of human experience. For this reason, I’ve always encouraged my students to write on sensitive topics but with the understanding that the purpose of our class is to examine the narrative and aesthetic merits of what’s on the page, including—and especially—whether the emotion rings true.

So in the light of all this, I would ask you this week to:


Return to the list you made last week, and consider which will be the next transformative moment or turning point that calls out to you to be put down on the page.


I look forward to reading!




Holy fuck. This assignment feels like some kinda of oracle or affirmation of everything I was sharing with you above.

I think it’s crazy that this assignment was posted last Friday and it’s due tonight by midnight (it’s 6:50pm right now) and this is the first time I’m reading over the assignment.


As if the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

I feel like everything my teacher writes is validating me

In wanting to write and share with you.


Okay. Here’s my list of shimmering moments (link coming soon).


I think I’m gonna post what I wrote last week since I didn’t post it yet.

Yes, I shared it with you first.

Posting that will take the pressure off of needing to write something soon. And give me time to start threads in the forum.

I liked what my teacher wrote. I like how he plucked a pearl from my story.

I reply to him.

I was about to reply to another classmate’s response to my piece

But then the sun was about to set. So I went out for a walk, right up the driveway where the altercation happened. Yes, some plants were whacked, they were both questionably flowery and weedy looking.

I caught the sunset.

Then I went back in for a sec then decided to go back out for a walk in the gloaming. I crossed paths with a deer. It was trying to sneak away. We both stopped to stare at each other for a minute or two then we went on our way. The sky was purplish and nordic blue. I only know that color because it’s the color of my bullet journal that I picked up last week in the Spotted Ear bookstore in Hudson.


I came back. Should I skip dinner and just drink my chocolate collagen hot drink and sip on bone broth? Or should I bake that salmon S2 caught last week and gave to me the next day.


I open the fridge. That vibrant orange vacuum-sealed salmon is calling me.


The salmon is in the oven. I was going to try to bake it with the sakura shoyu sauce that She got at the fancy Market Hall while ago. But I’m not sure if it’s still good. I read the ingredients, it has soybeans. Aka lectins. I pass.  Per google search results for “bake salmon recipe,” I make some lemon butter garlic rosemary (instead of dill) sauce instead and poured it all over the two fillets. This is a first for me. It seems relatively easy. We’ll see how it tastes..




The salmon was pretty good. I had it with some sauteed spinach. I just tidied up the kitchen, inspected the shoyu bottle, it has a cherry blossom flower in it. It was made in Kyoto. No wonder it cost $26.99. It was still pretty full. I pour out its content, down the drain. Since it’s probably past its prime and  I’m getting serious about my plant paradox diet, as of tomorrow. But before I toss the bottle in the recycling, I peel off its sticker, because it reads 11111017. I stick it in my journal. Next to a wrapper for a bar of chocolate she got me 2 months ago when She was in Tulum. I finally got around to eating it this past week. It was really yummy, especially for 85% cacao. It had cocoa nibs too. On the back of the “authentic Mexican chocolate” bar wrapper the lot number reads 00111117.

Interesting. Because she arrived on November 1st, 2017 at 1:11am, the night I was in Tulum.


The foyer is filled with 8 boxes from Amazon. The Burning Man survival gear we ordered on Tuesday are already trickling in.


I’m go grateful that I had this whole day to myself.

I feel like myself again.


It’s 10:58pm,  I was supposed to call B today and catch up and have him show me how to cut out objects from my photos so I can have them floating around on these pages. Maybe I’ll call him at 11:11


I like how P and I communicate by sending each other pictures of what we’re making in the kitchen and eating. And animoji’s of us going nom nom nom.


Apparently we were both peeling and seeding tomatoes for the first time today. But P boiled the tomatoes and chilled them first before peeling. So that’s the trick. Because it was such a pain to peel.

P sends me a youtube video on how to peel tomatoes.

He sends me a poopy guy anomoji: “P mupps just pimped your motherfuckin tomato game. And my jaw isn’t even closed to being relaxed,” he says through a clenched jaw.

Oh jeez. It’s kinda a running joke we have, where I ask sometimes him to soften his jaw when he talks, because he sounds super aggro when he clenches his teeth and talks through it. Now he does it all the time.



I talked to B. He’ was up in Yosemite, then all over northern California. He’s been hiking, or trying to hike but dodging the smoke. I haven’t been following the news.


What I put inside me: Lemon water, brain tea, green smoothie; a giant spinach salad with eggs, blueberries, avocado, tomatoes, 2 eggs, walnuts, almonds, and a very oily balsamic vinaigrette (with MCT, flax and olive oil); Flow spring water (I’m really into drinking water out of paper bottles); a bar of Lulu’s raw chocolate wirth almonds and sea salt, a white nectarine, 3 blackberries, 2 XL volcano vap bags of Jack Frost, a hot chocolate protein collagen drink with everything in it plus frothed coconut almond milk and a sprinkle of cocoa powder and cocoa nibs, baked salmon with lemon butter, sauteed spinach, tons of vitamins


What I spent money on: Garden of Life Mood+ Probiotic (recommended to me by the nice and knowledgeable clerk) for 45.99, Rainbow Light One Multivitamin for 33.36 , MCT oil for 17.99, Gaia natural laxative for 18.99, organic avocados, supergreens, romaine leaves and lemons for 19.97



Friday, August 3rd, 2018 11:11am

Berkeley-Moon Room-On the biomat


Dear You,

The trees are still getting chopped down. That’s how I woke up this morning. It makes a loud boom every time a tree falls. They chop and saw in spurts. I open the glass doors and relish the pockets of quietness in between the din of chainsaws and whatever else they’re using to destroy those trees. I’m gonna miss walking by all those trees when I’m on my path to my secret spot.

I can tell now when the fires are still going, because the light coming through the kitchen skylight is this beautiful golden light making everything slightly more picturesque than usual.

I just OCD cleaned the kitchen, again. Organized the spice cabinet, removing 5 bottles of salt, agave nectar, and 2 bottles of unopened  Korean chili paste. From the pantry, I removed the sweet potato noodles and rice flour noodles She got but never cooked. I put it all in a bag for P2.

Just consulted with my moon calendar, the moon is waning. Hence the desire to clean my house and my body. I opened the Plant Paradox cookbook the other day to a page detailing Phase 1 of the Diet, which is the cleanse. It suggested I get some Swiss Kriss to jumpstart the cleanse. Pharmaca didn’t have it so I went with the Gaia version. It did the trick. It just feels like taking psyllium husk. I feel lean and light this morning. My diet has been getting cleaner in the past few days.

I’m not sure if I can fully jump into the cleanse since it says no sugar and fruit for 3 days. I have a bag of bing cherries, a pint of blackberries and 2 white nectarines that I want to indulge in. Maybe I’ll start the cleanse after my fruit fest.

I wanna get serious about my diet. I’m gonna read the Plant Paradox cookbook. The beginning has the summary and everything I need to know how to do this right. Wanna join me?

If I report to you what I eat (as I am), there’s some accountability here.

I also am ready to get back into my body. I need to exercise. And do more than the 10 pushups every morning. I did do 10 pull-ups as well.

I think I got the writing ritual down/

Thanks to you.

Now I gotta make time for reading and meditating.


I pulled out my weekly calendar and started making a to do list for today:



Aerial Hoop/Silk

Read Dare to Memoir classmates’ writing and comment

Reply to J

Talk to L

Talk to B

Set up meeting with S1, my pervette web designer

E-mail Q

Reply to S (I can’t keep up my S’s)

Reply to Breakup Bootcamp Whatsapp thread

Package Burning Man return items

Skype with P about Burning Man stuff

Catch Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 at PFA at 7pm

100 crucnches


So weird, I was feeling vibrant and ready to tackle the list above, then I made myself a hot drink and it made my stomach gurgle for a minute and now I feel groggy and tired. Like I can take a nap.

Maybe I will.





I took that nap. On the biomat. I woke up and it was quiet. The tree choppers are on their lunch break, I assume.

I’m so happy I indulged in a mid-morning nap.

I felt like a child, opening my eyes, feeling the breeze on my skin, staring up at the ceiling..

What would happen if I keep on asking my child self  at every moment. How do I feel and what do I want? And I keep on saying yes to her?

Still laying on the mat, I reached for the book nearest me, Reality Hunger, and opened it up:


I’m interested in knowing the secrets that connect human beings. At the very deepest level, all our secrets are the same.


It gets better.



There are two sorts of artists, one not being in the least superior to the other. One responds to the history of art so far; the other responds to life itself



As a work gets more autobiographical, more intimate, more confessional, more embarrassing, it breaks into fragments. Our lives aren’t prepackaged along narrative lines and, therefore, by its very nature, reality-based art–underpricessed, underproduced–splinters and explodes.



Truth, uncompromisingly told, will always have its ragged edges.


Jesus. This book is amazing. Every line is golden and speaking to me.


I’m still waking up from my nap. I think I’m going to continue letting little me decide what to do.

I think she wants to go really slow, read and meditate.


She got exactly what she wanted.

I meditated to a recording of a guided theta brain wave meditation that Maria Soledad (I’m giving you her name because I think you should go see her) did with me when I was in NY this past April. That recording is incredible. I feel like I’m waking up in the body of my 4 year old self. This was before school, before schedules, before commitments.

I’m sipping bone broth from a tea cup and moving slowly, like I’m waking up from a long long slumber, and seeing the world with wonder and child-like eyes. (It feels like post-iboga.) I’m excited that I have this whole day to myself. I can’t believe it’s already 2. What do I want to do?

I want to move slowly.

I want to take little sips from my tea cup as I stare into it.

I want to feel the wood floor beneath my feet as I take each step.

I thought today was going to be a day where I feverishly work on Pervette and create new levels.

I always think a day would go a certain way.

And then little me has ideas of her own.

She feels her way.

I follow along.


I’m sitting in the black leather armchair I rarely sit in. Next to it are my tall stacks of books. I want something that can sink in. I pick up Everyday Osho and open to page 5..

So remember, the other is never responsible for anything. The problem is something boiling within you. And of course the one you love is closest. You cannot throw it on some stranger passing on the road, so the closest person becomes the place you go on and pouring your nonsense.


If I slip this passage to someone else as if they should be reading this, am I missing the point for myself?


I don’t know, I guess I feel like I’m the one that got too close.


It’s coming up, a playback to the gaslight incident.

I remember how things quickly turned when I said I needed this space and these next few days to myself.


I keep on thinking when someone comes from a place of need, it’s very hard to tell what’s genuine or not.

Every word, every gesture is a question mark.


I still don’t know what’s real, or not.


I only doubt it now, because of how I feel right now.

It changes from moment to moment.


Sometimes these were the words I couldn’t say


No one can take care of you


Until you learn how to take care of yourself.


But it’s all retrospective wisdom anyway, what good will it do.



Moon Room

Dear You,

I feel like I’m regressing. I have no appetite for solid foods today. Hot drink, bone broth, and I just made myself a green smoothie.

I tidied up the kitchen.

I think when you leave messes, you’re not fully present.


More packages arrived. I disregard the ones addressed to The Mupps because I know it’s all Burning Man survival gear.

I pick up and open non-Amazon box addressed to me. It’s my cassette player. It’s in great condition. I get some air in a can and blow out the dust on the inside. Put 4 AA batteries in. I grab my container of Deric Wan cassette tapes. I pop one in. Deric Wan’s voice enters the room. It’s the first time I’ve listened to my Deric Wan tapes without headphones.

I stare off into space

I look to Cutie.

She’s sitting on the glass table looking back at me.

I am transported back to my old apartment.

It’s 1991.

I know these melodies by heart.

I feel everything that I felt

His voice was the soundtrack to all my dreams

My eyes water

I am that little girl.

She’s right here.

Listening and feeling her way..




Saw Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000


P gave me the update on Cutie’s blog


Talked to B and L about our session tomorrow.


Talked to P, as he’s on the way to Mission Impossible


Listened to Philosophize This on Derrida and Words and on the Frankfurt School on the purpose of art and The Great Refusal


Lately I feel like I have 5 weeks worth of embarrassing writing that needs to be edited. I still want to go back. Delete lines. And fill in the blanks.


Crossing off the things I did today: I read, meditated, wrote, commented on my classmate’s writing, spoke to B and L about our couples session tomorrow, replied to S, and saw my second Alain Tanner film at the PFA. I would say I did okay.

Books I’m reading: Slutever, Reality Hunger, Everyday Osho

What I put inside me: Lemon water, Hot drink I made that made my stomach feel funny, bone broth that I seasoned with yuzu pepper I got from Kyoto,  green smoothie I made, 2 white nectarines, a bowl of bing cherries, 1/2 bar of Lulu’s raw chocolate with almonds and sea salt



Saturday, August 4th, 2018 10:33am

Moon Room


Dear You,

I can’t tell if it was the dream I had (about traveling and staying at a hotel in Napa) or how I laid in bed trying to remember it (which I did) but the transition from sleep to wake was so seamless it had a very positive effect on me.

I have tons of energy. Enough to do 10 pushups, 10 pullups, 30 squats, 20 lunges, and some kundalini yoga thing my reiki master taught me. And I have a ton more energy still in me.

P’s brother’s gf texted to see if I wanted the rugs rolled up or not for the photoshoot. They’ve been at NEMA yesterday and today, packing the housewares.

And yesterday when my friend E came over to NEMA to pick up her necklace (which she left after out photoshoot last week) she left with a coffeetable, ottoman, pillows and candle holders.

NEMA is getting cleared out. I am in awe of how P does it. He has no attachment to any thing, especially things. A good 100 to 200K was spent hiring our interior decorator friend to furnish NEMA in 2 weeks. And in 2 weeks, everything will be gone andgiven a new home, and he’s not taking one thing with him.


It’s a beautiful warm day, I sipped my lemon water and did my morning pages outside on the grass. As I was writing I got excited, noting how everything unfolds like a palindrome.

She moved out, NEMA is getting cleared out. The next logical step is moving out of this house. And I feel ready.

I counted it out on my fingers. Seven months after we moved into the house, P got NEMA. Does that mean we’ll have 7 months left in this house after next week?

That would make it March. A fine time to put the house on the market.

I see myself downsizing to a cozy humble abode surrounded by my books. And I see myself spending a month in Berlin and/or Paris by next summer.

Eventually I will come across a plot of land, with a cottage and from there have my builder friends help me build out a matriarchal commune. Mini cottages for my friends to stay in and write, a communal kitchen and giant mess hall table that is both indoor/outdoor for us to gather for meals. We’ll farm, play music, make art, hold witchy rituals/ceremonies, have retreats, go on plant medicine journeys, make chocolate, tinctures and lip balm.

But first for now, I’m ready to vagabond. Go light.

I see myself hopping around from Bay Area to LA to NY to Berlin to Paris to Tokyo to Vietnam to (eventually) the martriarchal commune to anywhere little me feels like in the moment. Every where I go, I interview and collaborate with people for Pervette.


How we create social change is by coming together and making art.


I call P, telling him how excited I am about this next chapter, he’s feeling it too. I tell him how in awe I am of him and his non-attachment to things. He says Aww.. he says he wishes it was some zen thing he mastered but he was always like that. He just never wanted the burden of carrying things. He’s been trying to be more mindful of his spending. I tell him how proud I am of him. He’s managed to cut his spending down to a quarter of what it once was from 4 years ago.

I remember when we first got together. I asked if he was a millionaire or billionaire because I couldn’t tell by the way he was spending.

Do you know how many millions are in a billion? He asked.

No..not really.

He thought that was cute how I’m not a numbers person.


Dad calls. He says P and I should invest in some apartment buildings in the OC. Se saw an ad or something about them on TV or in the papers.

He’s turning 63 on August 15th. He can collect his retirement now, he says, but he’s gonna hold off and keep on working for  3 more years so there’s more to his monthly retirement check.

I don’t want to get his hopes up but I wanted to tell him to not worry about it. I just need a year or so, and I can take care of him.

He said the fires up here are raging. A man lost his family because he went to the store and when he returned they wouldn’t let him get near his house where his wife (or mom?) and kids were. They died in the fire.

I google CA fires as he goes on about something else he heard on the news.

Oh shit. It’s bad.


I turn on Deric Wan. And I peer into my spice cabinet. What else can I get rid of? Two bottles of mirin. I organize the spices.

I open the fridge. What else can I get rid of? A 2 year old half-eaten mushroom chocolate She made for us on P’s birthday. I finish the rest of the royal jelly and toss the jar.


I’m working on the revised let’s act page


I feel like I got a ton of dots

It’s almost time to add a few more

And then connect it all



I finally feel like I’m eating well and sensibly proportional.

My mind and body feels light and clear.


It’s 1:23pm. Gotta go shower and get ready for a session at 3.


It seems like all my subs (that I’m seeing this week) are cool with my new tribute rate.



I’ve been going over this past week and cleaning my writing. Jesus Christ. You shouldn’t be reading this. It’s so sloppy.

I’ll try to recall the rest of my day.


I saw B and L at 3pm. I haven’t played with B in forever. It’s our reunion session. And he brought with him his new lady, L.

I can hear him ringing from outside the window as I was curling the ends of my hair. I mean when I hear a bell jingling, I know it’s him. Because that’s been our ritual. Ever since I gave him some instruction years ago to tell a bell to his balls, because I wanna hear him come ringing, and so he did, and still does. Sometimes he comes with 11 bells attached to his balls (because that’s one of my favorite numbers).


They are dressed so similar in this stylish Matrix/burner way. Both rocking their DM’s. And long coat-like

And they both have wavey curley hair parted down the middle.


I’m pretty sure B was a geisha in his last life. Or just a japanese woman who loves wearing kimonos all the time. Because every time I see him, he has layers and layers of sexy lingerie and fetishwear on him. It’s like he’s wearing 8 outfits all at once, but the way he layers it makes it all work at every layer you peel off. No. It’s crazy. And I wish I documented all his past outfits, because it was insane. The level of thought out into getting ready for me to undo him is

He is hands down the most stylish and best dressed slutty sub I have ever seen..

And he has great taste in lingerie..

I should also add he’s an AP (Agent Provocateur) fetishist/addict


I feed them a square of  a Hu (almond butter and puffed quinoa) chocolate bar.

And drop on their tongue a few drops of a Pleasure tincture.


They both have the same giant smile.


They say sometimes their jaw hurts form smiling so much when they see each other.










I fucking love you, he says to her.

I love fucking you, she says to him.



P2 reads me a quote form Sylivia Plath right before I let him hear my heartbeat.


I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.


He says it sounds slow, strong, and steady.



M wrote to me and …


It’s 2:53am. I should prolly go to bed. The front door opened itself, or maybe it was the wind. I poked my head out. The air outside is so nice, it’s not that cold, just a slight breeze. I should sit outside and meditate..

Or go to bed.


It’s 3:12am

I’m thinking about how I’m going to play around with the Pervette pages. It’s been a while. I’ve been so busy writing about my days I’ve abandoned the rest of the site. It needs a little something..

Back to my previous week