Sunday, June 24, 2018 11:13am

Round Table


Dear You,

I’m trying something new. I’m writing to you.

I just created the Yes page. Which I think will be the front page. That feels really good. It’s aligned with the vision that I’ve always had for Pervette 2.0. That it starts out with a black screen and letters appear.

Holy fuck. It’s been over a week since I worked on Pervette. I gotta make this a daily task. That whole Landmark Forum thing threw me off. Well actually, everyday throws me off. Whenever I think I’m gonna sit down and do this, something always comes up. A conversation, a cup of tea, a photoshoot with my friends. Jesus, I’m super distracted. Or am I just really present for what’s in front of me? Same difference.

Am I solving the problem of wanting to work on Pervette daily by writing to you everyday? I mean I do write daily, in my morning pages and I keep track of everything I eat. I might as well do it here. That way. If anybody wants to stalk me, they can. Is this a good or bad idea? I’ll find out.

Write, without looking back? Or should I look back and edit?

Prolly best to just write and not look back. Looking back makes me too self-conscious.

Who am I kidding? I’m a perfectionist. Of course I’m gonna go back and edit. And besides this is nature of pervette.  Nothing here is set and complete.

But I think you’ll appreciate the rawness of my words un-censored, so I’ll try not to edit too much.

Man, I feel manic. In a really good way. I wonder if it’s because I’m actually creating content or because I had a tiny little nibble of the chocolate magic mushrooms that I had on my altar. Have I been microdosing for 3 or 4 days? For sure I had a bite on Friday in my walk in the gloaming. Then yesterday morning. Then today. What about Thursday? I hear 5 days on, 2 days off is the way to go.

I get it. So I’ll continue doing my morning pages first thing in the morning, with pen and paper and that’s for myself. And here, I’ll write to you And what I write to you. In this way I still have my morning pages, and something just for myself.

I think I had this idea of sharing my my diary with you 3 years ago. But it was last week, when I knew it was time to really do it and stay with it.

This solves the problem of needing to be “productive” content-wise on Pervette and at the same time frees up my paralysis of not knowing what to write. If I just write what I feel, which is what I do everyday anyways, I’m actually working on Pervette.


I’ve been told (by the people who tell me they love me) that everything for me is about Pervette.

Yes, it’s true,

I’m monomaniacal.

It all comes back to Pervette.

I just know that every bit of working on myself

In relationship with myself and others

Is going to show itself in Pervette


Why is Pervette so important to me?


Because Pervette is my gift to you.

I know I know it doesn’t look like much right now.

Give me a few more weeks, months, maybe 6.

I’m still working it out. How to begin? How to create a structure that makes sense and flows, for myself, and for you. I think I’m getting closer. I like the new front page. The second page feels good too. It’s the third page that I don’t know about. Hopefully, that will come to me as well.

It’s like how I always get stuck on the introduction in any writing assignment. Trying to find a better way to make that first impression meaningful and memorable.

I kinda wanna masturbate. I didn’t yesterday. I was so tired. After the Friday of playing and shooting with my friends. All I had was the energy to cancel all my plans. No Dyke March (we had our own), no going out, just laying outside the moon room, on the picnic blanket staring up at the sky. Thank god for P2 who went grocery shopping for me and did all the chores, took out the trash, and brought me a PFA film schedule, so many films to watch, can’t believe they’re doing a Bergman retrospective plus Antonioni and Kaurismaki, what the fuck. And this Alain Tanner guy sounds amazing. He’s perfect inspo for the Pervette documentary. P2 also brought over his Alma-Tadema book. Our shoot Friday reminded him of his work. It’s actually great inspo for our next shoot, the poses, the scenes, the costumes (leopard skin and flowy drapes), and props.

I’m definitely feeling the chocolate mushrooms, I’ll call it choco for short. Should I eat something? Do I want to make a hot chocolate maca turmeric dandy blend concoction? Yes. Maybe I’ll add coffee too. Just to make myself even more manic. No. Don’t need the coffee.

I think what I like about the yes page is that it’s super disorienting. Maybe because I’m already feeling queasy, it makes me want to vomit. That’s what I’m going for.

Okay. I feel like I need something in my stomach. Brb.


9:58pm Moon Room


Dear You,

Wow. So much has happened and I’m not sure how to share it all, while maintaining everyone’s privacy..

Random letters for names that don’t correspond to their names? Is that anonymous enough? Or get super vague about the details of who and what happened and go strait to what was memorable to me.

A phone call from P. He’s coming in earlier than expected. I went from slow to fast. As She left, P arrived, with ideas on how to make my hot drink better. No banana, he says. Add an avocado instead. It’s lower glycemic. It wasn’t the same (i.e., yummy). Lesson learned. Never again. P snacks and wants to get high on some flower. I turn on the volcano and pack some Goji Jack.  I seem to only get high when P is around, which is two days out of the week. Not bad. P takes off. Soon after, E arrives with fresh rosemary and Pellegrino. Rosemary in everything is her new thing. I can totally get into that. Wait. I actually have a rosemary bush in the front yard.

Over almonds and rosemary San Pellegrino, we talk about how tricky codependent relationships can be.

I gave her directives to not be complicit, change it up and have the uncomfortable conversation soon.

I told her she needs to give herself some space, get out of the house, stay somewhere else, maybe get an airbnb or something. Obviously I’m projecting my own situation on to hers..

We talk about how even as Dommes we can find ourselves in disempowered positions. That’s why it’s so important to always speak the truth and act authentically with clients. Don’t bend to their projections and expectations. Don’t settle or lower the bar. Don’t do it for the money. And only see people you want to see.

E says she has a burning desire to make films. I told her about the Pervette doc and how I would love for her to be a part of it. She says she’s in. I want her music in it. She’s working on a Domme song that’s trying to speak to the experiences of Dommes out there.

We both have the desire to share our lived experiences as Dommes. We both want to create. It feels like perfect alignment. What I love about her is that she’s authentic in her speech and she has a super high level of self-awareness. And she’s just rad.

Funny how we were both wearing daisy duke length black shorts and a low armpit hanging tattered looking tank tops. An outfit I don’t typically wear, but had the desire to just today. I tend to have this weird intuition of matching the clothes of whomever I’m seeing that day.

As E was leaving, P came home. I introduced them to each other. I tell P that E and I are gonna do a film project together. He says that’s not at all surprising. They’re both into the Plant Paradox diet and started trading notes and recipes. E takes off. I wish her good luck on her “real conversations.”

P and I make plans on what to cook for dinner for tonight. Ling cod with brussel sprouts and flaxseed muffins. This is the second time in our 4 year relationship that we’re doing this, going grocery shopping to buy ingredients and coming home to cook a meal. The first time was last week. We used to eat out for almost every meal together. Our reason was that it was way quicker, tastier, and we both really like to be served. But now that P is getting all healthy with his Plant Paradox thing, eating in is the only way to stay on course. I’m really enjoying this change.

We shopped at Berkeley Bowl West, spent $310.85 on Plant Paradox-friendly ingredients. P just upped my flour game, with almond flour, coconut flour, flaxmeal. We came home, he made the brussel sprouts. I found an easy lemon butter recipe for the ling cod, even breaded it with almond flour. He made the muffins, or actually, I threw in all the ingredients that he asked for. And just like that.  The fish, brussel sprouts and muffins came out of the oven about the same time. And to our surprise, they were all yummy. It was insane. How good it came out. And how fun and easy it is, this cooking thing.

Over dinner, we decided that Burning Man this years feels right. A first for me.

I think I ate too much. The flaxseed muffins were so yummy, I had 3. At least it was healthy. And made with love.

I had lots of ideas flowing earlier but now that I ate too much, all I wanna do is lay down and read a book. Or watch the third episode of Wild Wild Country. Or do a Masterclass. Or sleep.

Okay. Goodnight You.



P.S. Today I ate tamari almonds, olives, brussel sprouts, ling cod with lemon butter, and flaxseed muffins. I also drank that hot chocolate why protein avocado maca collagen dandy blend with MCT oil, flaxoil, and coconut drink.

Monday, June 25th 2018 12:02pm

On the biomat in the Moon Room


Dear You,

It’s crazy how the day never goes as expected. But then again, I don’t expect much other then the unexpected anymore.

It’s a misty dewy day, so much that the skylight in the kitchen has droplets of water coming through, creating a splatter of drops everywhere on the island. This is the second time it’s done that. Thank goodness I got the order in for new skylights and the roofer is coming. I place a watering pail to catch the droplets. It feels like I’m in a Winnie the Pooh cartoon.

We made breakfast together, a first for us. Plaintain pancakes and green smoothie. The pancakes were so yummy, and so was the smoothie. I like the contrast of our cooking styles, I don’t measure, I just eyeball. P is so precise, down to 1/8 teaspoon of salt. I’m amazed at what a good cook he is. And how into it he is. The man who likes to be served (a latte and eggs benny), first thing in the morning, by a barrista or server is learning how to serve himself, food made with his own love, for himself. P thinks that taking care of his body and feeding it well is the necessary step to enlightenment. I kinda agree.

After P left, I sat down here to write my morning pages. And then magic entered.

Sorry this is where things get vague..


Toad venom.


That sting in my eyes was the wake up call.

I am you and you are me.

I’m so sorry for not knowing how to hold you better.

I’m trying my best.

No not sooner, not any earlier.

This is it.

We’re right on time.


You think you have to figure it out on your own first. But you don’t. All you have to do is begin anywhere, and tell your story. Let it out, without holding back. And know that you can always edit later. What’s most important is that it comes out. Because that’s where your story is meant to be outside of yourself, shared.  When you hold it inside, like it’s a secret, it will do anything to come out, even drive you crazy.

Why does it want to come out? Because it’s larger than you and has a life of its own, and there’s no use trying to fight it to contain it and hold back, it’s meant to come out.

Because the moment it comes out, it becomes medicine.

Our story holds the power to heal. The deeper the wells of suffering the more tears (of the world) it can hold.

We walk these paths, to collect these stories, to share them, to learn that we are not alone. To see that my power is your power. My freedom is your freedom.


There is no such thing as work on self. The more you work on yourself by yourself, the more you isolate yourself. It’s all work with each other. We heal with our hearts. And by examining how it got to be shaped in the way that it is. It’s through each other that we can see what we can’t see ourselves. That is the nature of blindspots. We are blind to it. And only in relationship can we truly see ourselves. But to see what we couldn’t see before is not comfortable or easy. It’s everything we’ve been avoiding. We’ve structured our lives and created defense mechanisms to be blind to it. The seed of that pain. We run away from it. But we’re actually running away from our truth.


However you want to tell your story, let me know. Through written or spoken words, through cries and tears, through a song or film or another medium to be imagineered. I’m here to hold that space for you and hear every sound that wants to come out..


Thank you.

For helping me see myself.

My layers of self.

My selfishness.

Thank you for helping me break through

My self.


You allow me to see me through you.



1:00pm Moon Room


Dear You,

I’ve been trying to get into the habit of listing all the things I’m grateful for, because it’s proven to help in rewiring your brain and hacking your heart.

I’m grateful for the plant medicine in my body and medicine carriers in my life.

I’m grateful that P is learning how to take care of himself in the best way possible.

I’m grateful for The Plant Paradox, the first book/approach to a diet/lifestyle change that makes perfect sense to him (scientifically). (I should read this book myself).

I’m grateful for this beautiful home that has held me for the last 3 years. And for the opportunity to create a sacred space, a Goddess pad, a playpen, a sanctuary for myself and all of my friends.

I’m grateful for the lesson of  impermanence, as hard as it is.

I’m grateful for all the incredible people who have come into my life. How we are drawn to each other to connect and create together.

I’m so grateful for this ongoing mystery, of not knowing what comes next.

I’m grateful that the sun is finally coming out.


I love the way you squirm and squeal and shake it out. It makes me so happy. Because it’s real. How you feel. When you give in to me. There’s no pretense. There’s no how one ought to be. I love how we play. I love how we can laugh. At ourselves. Laughing at ourselves.


1:44:44pm At the round table


I just changed the front page to YES and added a link to the Hello page to this journal. Unintentionally, it makes the Yes button disappear as the link to this appears. I like that effect..

Holy fuck. A new page to a new path. A path that leads to here. These words. I’m writing. And you’re reading. This is what I’ve always wanted. To share. And get intimate. And I didn’t know how. I thought I needed to figure it out. How to share with you my reality. I’ve actually been practicing these past few years. Filling up several dozen notebooks. And trying to figure out how to present it. Or myself. And now I get it. There is no plan necessary. Just write. Start with today. And that’s all I need to do for now. Just keep it going. Don’t abandon this.  Because this feels like the next chapter..

There’s no going back.




Tuesday, June 26th, 2018

Round Table


Dear You,

The rest of yesterday was pretty packed. The stager came, really nice gay guy. He loves the orgy room. He wants to break up the play pen and add some tables. We like his vibe. He’s gonna deck out all the decks and change the lighting fixtures in the foyer. I tell him it’s like we’re finally getting an interior decorator for the house. We looked at a comp house near us for sale. It was staged to look fancy. Epic view. 5 bedrooms. In-law. We peaked inside the fridge to look for signs of life. Tons of food. They’re still living there. In a staged house. We peaked in the garage, and saw all their real stuff stacked away. Their real furniture is woodsy and antique looking. I wonder how it feels to live in a home that had lost all remnants of your personality. I guess I’ll find out.

I was told that I’m taking all of this really well. I said thanks. I realize that where I am now with this whole impermanence thing is dramatically different from even just like year. I know it’s gonna be a lot in the next few months. Moving while trying to Pervette and connect and create with friends. But I’m not too worried, I know it’ll all work out. Have I finally learn how to let go?

Then to Whole Foods for more plaintains, arrowroot flour, and yacon syrup. We made sweet potato soup and walnut bread (from the Plant Paradox cookbook). It was so yummy. This whole cooking thing is really a game changer, for P and our relationship. It’s a different way of being with P. One I could never even imagined even a few months ago.

When he’s by himself and cooking, he says it feels likes it’s a purposeful task and action of self-love. You’re taking the time to make something healthy and nourishing for your body. And when cooking with others it becomes a way of expressing love. It’s so great that he’s seeing the benefits of it. It wasn’t so long ago that we both used to think cooking was a waste of time, to cook and eat and clean. Eating out some place nice was always our couple activity. We were also super time efficient about it. Always sitting at the bar, so we can sit side by side, and it was the quickest way to hop in and hop out without reservations. we’d always grab the check while we’re almost done eating.  In just the the past week, it’s shifting to being in the kitchen together. And there’s a mindfulness in trying to move slower. You can’t really be thinking of anything other than the task at hand or else it becomes a task. I made slicing sweet potatoes my meditation. It’s still hard for P’s analytical and productive mind to fully wind down, especially when we start to fire something, the pressure is on. He’s the expediter. He inspects my teaspoon of paprika and chops off the top. It’s a level teaspoon,  he says. Jesus Christ. I’m not even used to using teaspoons. I just grab whatever spice sounds nice and shake it into the bowl, mupp-style. How we cook is a metaphor for how we live. Is cooking becoming our new language of love?

(Took a break to toast some of the walnut bread, butter it, eat it, and Amazon a butter dish that’s arriving Thursday)

The crazy bird is back and is pecking at the kitchen window.

He’s started with the guest room window, then the window of the dining room, then the downstairs bathroom, the sidelight, and finally kitchen window. It’s been over 2 months now. Some morning I would wake up to the sound of it pecking.

What is he trying to tell us?

To get out?

Of the house?

Of our heads?

Google says it’s usually male birds that peck at windows.

When I didn’t see him for two days, I thought maybe he was gone, and that possibly I got the message.

Maybe not.

At least he’s not violently flinging himself into the window anymore. Just small pecks..

I still need to learn how to mindfully eat. I hate it when I catch myself thinking about something as I’m eating. That walnut bread would’ve tasted even better if I was focusing on eating it.  I feel like I really didn’t savor it enough. I still remember how amazing food tasted when I was on my silent meditation retreat. When eating becomes a meditation, it’s so blissful. Right now, instead, my mind is thinking about to record and share what’s happening.. This is my constant struggle, when I’m in the recording mode. How to be fully in the present without thinking about how to remember it.


I just ate another slice of buttered walnut bread and the soup from last night. I tried to eat it mindfully. I think I did alright. It’s so much more satisfying when I’m savoring each spoonful and bite, putting the utensil down in while I’m chewing. I even switched hands, eating with my less dominant right hand. Would you call your non-dominant hand your submissive hand? All the more reason for a domme to practice florentine flogging and be ambidextrous.

Is it a female thing to be so preoccupied with food? Or is it a post-eating disorder thing? My relationship with food has evolved so much.

Fuck. I want to eat another slice of walnut bread. At least it’s made with arrowroot, therefore it’s good for me, right?

Portion control is my weakness.

Just ate the last bootie slice of the walnut bread. It was so damn good.


I had a dream that I was with my ex, A. I invited him to go to the London leg of my trip with me. He got upset when he found out that I was traveling somewhere else with another man, who was taller? He got our flight times wrong, he made his flight and I missed mine. A little bummed, bc it was a first class seat. But they had another flight for me. When it was time to board, I couldn’t find the ticket they just reissued for me, it was among all the random leaflets, receipts, and knick knacks in my backpack.


I can’t remember my dream form the night before. I didn’t record it. All I remember is the take home message: There are teachers around me who are teaching me a thing or two about something.


I drove P to the Concord airport this morning.  A new airport.  Same distance as Oakland airport but with no traffic in the morning. As we pulled up 14 minutes before his flight takes off, P gets a call from JetSuiteX asking if he’s still planning on making his flight. Yes. There’s something so nice about tiny airports and no TSA.


We didn’t have sex. Again.

Before that used to worry me. Like sex was the signifier of a healthy relationship. Or maybe even the glue of it.

I sometimes worried that if we didn’t have sex it would subconsciously create low level tension in the relationship.

And I sometimes that sex was the answer to most of our relationship issues.

But now I’m totally fine that it’s not the point.

It’s an expression of love.

All out time was taken up with grocery shopping and cooking. Which was excitingly different.

It’s our new way of making love.

Cooking/eating and fucking are both really satisfying.

I’m okay with being too stuffed to fuck.

Wait. Is that why America is so fat?

But we’re not fat.



He blows me kisses goodbye.

Should I have pretend to catch them? It’s alright.


On the way back, I listened to..

Don’t Take it Personal by Monica.

Brings me back to junior high. And the lyrics are speaking to me.

Or maybe it’s more like what I want to say to Her.

Really digging Spotify’s Discover Weekly

Sometimes I think they’re oracles

Singing to my soul


Leave Me Alone by New Order

How did they know?

Sugar for the Pill by Slowdive

Wow. This is my new favorite song

That I could listen to over and over.

Driving through the hills





The sun is bright.

I think I should get up from this table and go outside and read a book or something.


I need to write a page explaining to everyone why I haven’t been returning their emails, texts, and calls.


Just talked to P and A, I think this might be the year I do Burning Man for the first time. We’re landing in a nice camp, Caravan of Light, with an RV all set up, we just need to charter a plane with our friends. Jesus Christ, Burning Man is crazy expensive when you’re doing it boozhy stlyle. I’ve never had the desire to go to Burning Man. I think I had my judgments of Burners.



Dear You,

I called mom. I haven’t talked to her in over a week. She didn’t pick up.

Should I go outside? Should I smoke? Should I read? I was feeling antsy like I should go somewhere or do something productive. But then I decided to sit still on the bean-shaped sofa in the moon room. Staring out the glass door. Everything was perfect, as is. I felt my body relax then I napped.

I woke up to mom calling my landline. One of her classmates has cancer. Liver, kidney, prostate? Not sure, she speaks in Vietnamese and those anatomy words are foreign to me. She sends me a picture of him sitting on a mat in the hospital because he can’t afford a bed there. I recognize him from my last visit to Vietnam this past March at their high school reunion. I remember chatting with him. He was really friendly. His face in the picture still looks so young. He just went through 9 chemo treatments. Mom and her friends are collecting money to send to him. Mom reads to me a post that her friend wrote and posted on Facebook to help fundraise. I pitch in to help.

Don’t eat meat on Thursday, mom says, it’s the full moon.

How many more months until this lunar year ends? I ask mom.

6 or so, mom says.

It’s my bad year, I’ve been told. Don’t start any business ventures. Drive carefully. And pray.

Just got done setting up a Facebook account for her so she can connect with her friends in Vietnam (and not have to use my sister’s account to stalk everybody). I found an old photo of her from 1990. She was at a BBQ. I think this was at my stepdad’s place before they even got together. I cropped out the paper plate with a crumpled napkin and chips on it. I study her features. I almost forgot how incredibly beautiful she was. I think it’s my favorite photo of her from the 90’s. It captures that time so perfectly. I’m pretty sure I was there. I was 8.


I’m grateful for this quiet day to myself. It’s a first in a long while.


Maybe I should go catch the documentary of Mr. Rogers.

Maybe I’ll read the next chapter in the Artist’s Way first..


6:42 pm


I have this fear if I share too much of myself, I might lose myself.

Should I write less?

I’m torn.

Who wants to read about my life?

Maybe it’s best if I attempt to capture the day in a haiku

Yeah. Less is more.

Or not?

I think I’m gonna go catch the 7:15 showing of Mr. Rogers.

I just got high on flower.

I gotta go..


9:44pm  at the Round Table

Holy fuck. That was so good.

Great idea to get high and catch Won’t You Be My Neighbor

I have a newfound appreciation for Mr. Rogers

I am dumbstruck by how aligned our visions were..

I took notes while watching the film:


-Ritualistic Opening Theme Song

-The opposite of popular television: low production, unlikely star

-Love is at the root of everything.

-To influence

-How he saw the pie-throwing on tv and thought this is can be an incredible tool. Why is it being used this way?

That’s what I think about the internet.

The Internet is this incredible tool that has the potential to heal and create community across the world, and look how it’s being used, to create addictions of consumptions that ultimately consumes us and our time and our money.

I think that’s part of the reason why I’m creating  Pervette. To show that if we get creative, we can use the internet in a completely different way. What if the Internet is more than a massive tool of distraction? What if it can create communities? What if it can heal? What if it can be a guide for the lost or the seekers? What if it can help us see the world in a more accepting and open way? What if it can create intimacy? What if it can love? What if it can show us how to love?

What if websites were a work of art? No template to follow, but just free form self expression?

Mr Roger and I have the same aversion towards violence on TV and film.

Films, TV, video games, the internet inundates us with violence. So it’s hard to say where does it come from.

For me, I like to make the distinction that I’m against nonconsensual violence. Why does it exist? Why is it so glorified?

Maybe as humans, or animals, it’s a primal urge. It makes us feel alive when we get real close to our own destruction or death.

If we accept that as a presupposition, that we’re saying violence, to some degree, is inevitable.

I can accept that.

What I can’t accept is that people are actually getting hurt from this urge to see and enact violence.

We’re harming each other.

Because we don’t know any other way.

Because we’re not shown any other way.

But what if a Dominatrix can show them that there is a way?

To experience violence in a different way.

To experience violence in a consensual way.

To experience violence in a way that can build you up after it breaks you down?

To experience violence in a way that can help you learn about yourself and your strength?

To experience violence in the most loving way possible?

What if violence can teach us about love?


I snuck in some walnuts and potato soup into the theatre and ate it while watching the film. Not because I was hungry. Just because I wanted to say I ate soup in the theatre.


The moon is so bright tonight, it looks like it’s full.


I didn’t eat any meat today.


I didn’t eat any mushrooms today.


I did smoke some Premium Jack.

I ate a ton of walnut bread, butter, sweet potato soup, walnuts, cherries, olives and drank a lot of tea and that green smoothie. it was all pretty healthy.


Should I let you know that I’m leaving parts of my day out of my journal? Not everyone in my life wants to fuck their privacy. In the same way that I do.


I wavered. Go for a walk during the magic hour or go catch a film you’re excited about? There’s something about going inside a dark theatre while it’s still sunny outside, like I can’t choose.


I’m grateful for the quietly beautifully bright day of rest and writing to you and catching a film.

I’m grateful for Mr. Rogers. For being such an inspiration and affirmation to keep on being weird and oddly ambitious.

I’m grateful for all the healthy yummy food in my home and belly right now.

I’m grateful for the time to contemplate.

I’m grateful for you.


Okay, time to get ready for bed and read until I fall asleep.

Good night.


Wednesday, June 27th, 2018 12:06pm

Dear You,

I feel a little bit scattered. I was doing well on my morning rituals: recording my dreams, push-ups, brain tea, morning pages, then I got sidetracked. I had to buy the Plant Paradox cookbook. I also had to see if Uniqlo had some summer tank tops. I got 4 and a romper. Going down the path of consumerism made me slightly ill at ease. I mean I needed the cookbook in order to get into the Plant Paradox lifestyle. And my house tank tops were getting threadbare. But here I am trying to pare down, get rid of things, pack up and move, and now I’m buying more books and clothes. What’s wrong with me? Is this a neurosis? A compulsion? Before I would feel good about hitting the Purchase button, but now I feel kinda more self-aware of my impulses and how slightly out of control it makes me feel. Okay. How about I limit myself to 1 book a week max? And only Amazon vitamins. That’s it. I actually don’t do well with restrictions. I know I’m gonna buy Don Miguel Ruiz’s new book tonight when I go see him talk. Anyways, so after my purchases I decided to fuck it and masturbate, on the biomat. It’s been a while. It felt nice. It was like a meditation, with the glass door open next to me, feeling the breeze, watching the trees sway. Then I started a podcast recommended to me by L. Change your words, change your life on Bulletproof. I got 15 min into it and then…someone came up.. this is where I get vague..

I decided to say a prayer to Guanyin and nibble the last piece of my chocolate mushroom that was on the altar.

I would feel guilty spending an hour finishing the podcast. But maybe I’ll listen and self-soothe.

Okay, 15 min on biomat podcasting, masturbating, then eat something healthy, then hop on the 1pm Pervette Skype meeting with S. That’s the plan..




So S needs a few more minutes before the meeting. I did lay back down masturbate for min, cont. the podcast as I made a green smoothie, I threw in some spring greeds, spinach, kale, lemon, avocado, frozen banana, mint from the garden, and a dropper of stevia. So yummy, sipping it now. That podcast is interesting. Takeaways, don’t be afraid to share what you’re doing and how weird you are.



Great meeting. I now know what to do for the 3rd page. 2 videos.  Split screen. One arrow pointing left. There’s a time to lead. The other arrow pointing right. There’s a time to follow.

Gotta build out the sub guide.



Oh fuck me relationships.

I question everything. Myself. Who am I? Do I think I’m better than I am? I thought I was giving. But is it all conditional? Why do I need so much appreciation? I thought I was a reformed narcissist. But maybe not.

I feel drained. My chest feels tight.

The most intimate relationship I’m in right now is the one I can’t share.

What am I doing? Maybe I’m sharing too much with you already, at the risk of jeopardizing her trust in me. Maybe it was never there.

But I’m only giving you glimmers of my feelings.

Maybe that’s too much.

I feel guilty for not giving myself enough to her and listening more closely, for not seeing the signs, they seem mixed to me. But I’ve been told I give mixed messages.

I have stories I’ve been telling myself.


Thursday, June 28th, 2018 9:18am

Moon Room

Dear You,

Everything has changed since I last wrote. By everything, I mean my mood. I was lost and confused, then I went to Don Miguel Ruiz talk (at 7pm) and had all my questions answered. It’s crazy how the universe works.


I think all the neighbors heard me scream I’m sorry, I love you, over and over.


I want to read to you all the notes I took from last night’s talk.



The kitchen sink if filling up with dirty dishes. No one wants to tend to them.


The tightness returns. All it takes is a stare.


There’s still a fishy smell coming from the fridge. I thought I scrubbed it clean and got to the very bottom of the drawer an hour ago.


I admit. I was not impeccable with my speech. I made assumptions. And I probably took it personally. But can I still say that I tried my best?


I can tell when something is off. It’s all energy.


In her silence, I question everything. Again.


Nothing’s up? Oh really?


If it’s really all in my head, while do I feel it in my chest?


The crazy bird is back.


I’m behind on the Domme guide.


I want to be a person of integrity.


So I can’t share with you everything that’s going on.


Life becomes more complicated when you have an open relationship.

And all I want to do is express myself to you.

But if I do, it might be called a betrayal.




It’s a strawberry full moon tonight.

That explains this crazy intensity.


I can’t tell what’s real anymore.

I can’t tell what I’m doing right now is right or wrong.

Because my right is your wrong.

Or my bad is your right.

Maybe there was never any right to begin with when we’re just learning how to communicate.

I preface now that this is how I see it.

And I know that I can’t see everything.

Especially when I’m in my head.


I’ve been told that I’m being too hard on myself.

Maybe I am.

It’s okay if you can’t follow me right now.

It’s probably for the best.

List of events today: micro-dose 5meo, did a podcast, I felt meander-y and scattered, made a salad, saw S, he brought me 6 pounds of fresh blueberries from the farm, we played with electricity, he was too tight for the sound, but not too tight for my cock. I drove home, screaming I don’t know what’s real anymore..all the while she packing.

What I consumed: Lemon water, sweet potato soup, avocado and yucan cracker, a salad with, egg, walnuts, and blueberries.

Friday, June 29th, 2018 5:02pm


Her Lyft arrived at 4:44pm.

It’s so bright today, it makes everything more painful.

We sat on the steps. Me finally realizing all the confusion I created.

I’m so sorry.

Maybe if I said it a hundred more times, it would change everything.

I gave her a Spellbound Sky oil potion called Resurrection. There were carnelian crystals in it.

She applied it to her wrists and mine. It smelled so fresh, of sandalwood.

I was hoping her Lyft driver would cancel the ride.

I wanted to drive her.

But I think I already did

Crazy, she might say.


Lyft driver arrived. I helped her with her luggage.

And gave her a bag of blueberries.

And then the white Honda Civic drove off.

I stood on the stairs waving goodbye.



I finally saw myself.

I was such a child.

All I want to do is make it up to her.




I should go outside. Not be here. In this abandoned house.

Or do I wallow in this melancholy?




I talked to P. He tells me I’m being hard on myself. I keep on deflecting, I can only see my faults. He said I was generous enough to offer up my home, my car to her for the past 8 months. I’ve been consumed by my relationship with her, he said, so much that it’s taken away from our relationship.

Maybe true. But still. I could’ve been better. I could’ve left her in a better place.

He’s tired of trying to change my mind. We makes plans. I’ll fly down Monday 3pm to see him. He’ll book my flight.

P2 came over with the avocados, a dozen pastured omega 3 eggs, and walnuts that I asked for. We went for a walk to my favorite tree then to our secret spot overlooking the hills. It was 7ish and still romper weather. I write a list of all the people I want to interview in NY for the doc.

We came back and made plantain pancakes. Watched 2 Hal Hartley shorts, “Theory of Achievement” and “Ambition.” I want to rewatch them and write down so many lines..

I went from melancholy back to baseline. It was good to walk and talk it out and cook.

Earlier in the day: I went over to Y’s place to drop off some corn, apricots and blueberries that S gave me, because I have more than I can eat. She showed me a photo album from when she was in high school and college. Remember Koo’s Cafe? She asked. I do. It was where all the misfits of Orange County convened. While flipping through, I came across a photo of me when I was 19. A and D were in the photo. I was in the middle. A was my gay roommate, whom I had sex with once. I was wearing my favorite bright red sweater that I got for a quarter at the CHOC thrift store. My hair was short and I was making a funny face. I still had baby fat on my face.

What I consumed: Lemoon water, hot chocolate fatty protein maca drink that she made, blueberries that S gave me, walnuts that P bought, plaintain pancakes that I made with P2, marcona almonds that P bought

What arrived: my butter dish, 6 bags that P ordered for the volcano (vaporizer), Moody Bitches 


Saturday, June 30th, 2018 11:39am

I woke up from a dream where 2 guys who were vandalizing my car (which was a red Mercedes convertible)  They were vandalizing my car because I locked them out, just as they were trying to get in. But then I went outside, got in the car with them, and nonchalantly gathered Cutie and my blanket (I didn’t want them to know that these were the two most valuable things to me), which was covered in broken glass. I heard them out. They wanted their $1400 back, which they lent to S (the headmistress of the Gates). They listened intently once they realized I was giving them advice on how to get their money back. Just tell her what you told me, it’s been a year since you lent her the money and you would like it back now. They tell me times have been tough, they were burgled a couple of times. I told them to her that too. And then I suggested maybe if S doesn’t have all the money right now, maybe they can work out a payment plan? Like 2000 a month or something. They thought that was doable. They went from creepy gangster guys not to be messed to very focused listeners nodding along. I suggested and they agreed to cover the deductible for my Mercedes (once S pays them back) since they did vandalize it to get her attention. I remember in the dream thinking wow, good job on coming up with the payment plan idea, really thinking about S’s scenario and what factors might be contributing to her not being able to pay them back. To solve this problem I had to see it form both sides. 

The night before I was giving advice to the guy who did the hodl gang rap song. He was struggling with his writer’s block, he didn’t know what his second song was gonna be. And he feared being a one hit wonder. I told him to write a song about a Domme Mom who’s going to discipline him to not let his fear get the best of him and to just “hodl” on to his crypto. He was into it.

What’s up with all these advice-giving dreams? I think my wiser self is trying to give advice to my lost and confused self. I’m obviously the two upset guys throwing a tantrum, who think they deserve something after all they’ve given and I’m totally that rapper feeling uninspired and irrelevant (at times).

I woke up knowing it’s gonna be a warm day. Wow. I have the whole house back to myself. I guess I got what I asked for. It feels different. I wasn’t sure if I needed to, but I masturbated (with Cutie sitting on my right shoulder) and came super loudly because I could.

I went upstairs made some lemoon water and wrote out my morning pages in the library. I got overwhelmed staring at all the titles of the books I’ve collected and am excited to read but haven’t yet. I went downstairs, grabbed my ratty blue blanket from under the covers and my 80’s style headphones form under my bed and decided not to grab my cassette player with my Deric Wan tape inside (I was feeling impatient, it’s too much of a hassle to keep on rewinding and fast-forwarding to my favorite songs). Instead I just grabbed my phone and youtubed Deric Wan and masturbated with Cutie sitting on my chest. I can tell my mind was still on, so I focused on the his voice and how good my clit felt with my childhood blanket against it. And then I sank in, deep into my body and came really hard. I put on another Deric Wan song, continued squeezing my legs against my blanket, and came some more, while recollecting my childhood days listening and masturbating to this very Deric Wan song.

I remember Her asking me one morning as She was making her lemoon water, What’s up with this Deric Wan?


I was in such a blissed out state after my Deric Wan masturbation session, then my Dad called.


At 11:11 she texted 11:11 with a the double pink hearts and magic sprinkles emojis. I texted her back 3 red hearts and a picture of the LeMoon water I made this morning. I (will) always think of Her when I make my lemoon water. It was our waking up ritual. It’s the first thing in our belly: a lemon squeezed with a fork to get every bit of juice and pulp out and moon water (that sat in our orb glass bottle on our kitchen windowsill catching the moon light from the night before). Add a ton of Real Salt a dash of cayenne pepper. That was her ritual, and it became ours, and now it’s mine.

I’m so happy She texted. I wasn’t sure when to text Her. I wanted to give Her her space. I feel like I’ve been a child.


She texted when my dad was talking to me about what a hero Trump was. I had to tune him out. He talked for 30 min strait about the wall, Joe Biden, something or another. I was adding photos of my mom’s 50th high school reunion to her Facebook account. I also accepted 14 friend requests.

I thought his loud talking would kill my writing mood. But here I am writing. I’m pretty sure he affected the tone.


I keep on circling back to the day before she left

When I asked Her, what can I do for her?

She thought about it and said

Just to speak kindly and highly of Her.

Now that She’s gone

It’s all I want to do.


(written on July 14th)


I had a session with L. It’s been a while. We kept on missing each other. He was grateful to see me. Throughout our tease and denial, in moments of rapture, he would moan:

You’re an angel.

You own me.

I am yours.

Please hurt me.

I love you.

Please do whatever you want to me.

You’re amazing.

After our session ended he said:

I’m so lucky.

I’m just glad to be along for the ride.


I wonder if everything he said is what every lover longs to hear from their beloved.

Specifically this notion that to love someone is to want to control them


I moved our my session with L an hour earlier so I can go catch Red Desert at 6pm at the PFA with P2. On the way to PFA I noticed text from P2 that he sent a few hours ago, saying he’s feeling queasy and regrets that he can’t make it out. It looks like a solitary movie night for me. I consider it an Artist Date.


I started feeling queasy too. But I was set on catching an Antonioni film. So I did. The gallery visit was included with the price of the film admission, so I strolled through the Wey Bay 2 exhibit and the Buddhist Art exhibit, then went into the cinema.


Maybe it was a good thing P2 couldn’t make it, bc Red Desert was a very disorienting film. I thought I had seen it and loved it in college. But it wasn’t what i remembered at all.

Monicca Vitti (my favorite actress) played this beautiful housewife whose “gears didn’t mesh right” after her car accident. She played crazy sexy very well. The colors in the film were perfectly composed. And every shot was picture perfect.

Everything around her was confusing. Her son pretends he can’t feel his legs (to avoid going to school). And the one person who normalized her experience (her husband’s business partner), who was going through his own existential crisis, was actually just trying to sleep with her, which he did. And then she really lost it.

I guess I can relate. What makes you crazy is when you can’t tell real and what’s not. And the problem is we’re always crating our own reality inside our minds.


Every one groaned when the film ended, they couldn’t believe it ended on such a disorienting and unsatisfying note.


I was tempted to catch the next film, Cielo, playing because the stills for it looked amazing. It’s about the desert sky. But 2 films back to back with no dinner would be too much.

When I stepped out of the theatre it was 8pm and the sky was a strange color. It was gold and pink and casted a beautiful eerie light on to downtown Berkeley. I tried to walk round the buildings to see the sun. I went to the store to get coconut oil and by the time I got home, the sun had set. But I was able to catch the gloaming and I took a picture of it (it’s the photo above).


I’m finally alone.


What I consumed: Lemoon water, 2 plantain pancakes with goat butter and blueberries, walnuts, more blueberries, lemon rosemary water, a giant salad I made with apricots blueberries, avocados, eggs, walnuts, and chard, kale, spinach.



Forward to my next week

Down down the rabbithole