Sunday, October 21, 2018

The OC / Santa Monica / Culver City


This is me recollecting..

I woke up around 8, got ready and started packing up, my toiletries, etc.

I do this thing where I pack by cleaning everything around me.

With a wet paper towel, I try to get all my hair that’s fallen on the granite floor. There’s a lot.

I take out the trash in the bathroom.


J texts, we plan to meet at 4pm today



I work my way downstairs.

Mom comes down, sits in her spot on the sectional sofa and we chat as I clean and pack my stuff on the kitchen island. I pack my bags within bags of vitamins, my teas, my snacks.

We got talking about monks and temples.

I can tell she was happy that I spontaneously went to 4 temples on my own yesterday.


I take a picture of Cutie among the persimmons and dragon fruit that I got yesterday and next to this one strange beautifully shaped fruit that I’ve never seen before, it kinda looks unreal

I rearrange the fruits in the fruit bowl. I put away some things in the pantry. I realize mom never puts anything away.

Do you need these 3 giant tins of cookies out here?

Just leave them there for me.

I leave them. It’s an eyesore but oh well, it’s her kitchen island.

I clean her home thinking I’m doing her a favor. But it’s really for me.

If it was me I’d throw away everything that signals


poor Asian immigrants

who finally made it.


I put away the to go restaurant condiment packets in the condiment drawer and the disposable chopsticks in the disposable chopsticks pile in the pots and pans cabinet.

The hallmarks of an Asian kitchen..

Once I got done packing and cleaning, the kitchen looked a little better (than I found it). Or at least that’s what I think..


Okay, it’s 10:30am, I should go..

I put on my backpack, gather all my stuff at the front door. I give mom a hug, she gives me half hug, shoulders touching kinda thing. I know that’s the best she can do. I think about how little human touch she has received in her lifetime and it makes me just slightly sad.

Call me when you arrive so I know you’re safe.

Okay. Bye mom!


The drive was quick as it could be. It took an hour and a minute to get to Santa Monica.


On the drive home, I thought about designing clothes. I need to make this 50/50 jacket. Every time I put on my jacket or sweater halfway, I think about this jacket. It’s going to be a game changer, at least for me..


When I stepped into the apt, the ocean and palm trees greeted me. I’m so happy to be alone in my bubble.


This apartment is one level below the penthouse. Our last apartment at NEMA was also one level below the penthouse.


I made myself 2 pancakes. With tons of goat butter on it. I ate as I stared out into the ocean.

I then finished the wedge of goat cheese.

Then I felt super lethargic and sleepy.


I’m gonna meet up with J in a bit, I should shower and tidy up this place.

I dragged the two exploding suitcases from the living room into the bedroom, cleared the table of its clutter and left the Gene Keys book right where it was and tidied up the kitchen and bathroom.

I showered, put on my face.

I picked up the Gene Kets book, flipped it open to a random page and started reading the 32nd Gene Key..

Money actually provides a wonderful lesson in letting go of fear, and in many respects it has become on the new spiritual teachers on our planet. Whilst it is here (which is is not forever), we should make the fullest use of it as an outer symbol of our ability to surrender to higher forms of consciousness. 

Maybe this is why my relationship to money is changing, it’s no longer something I want to save, but give away

To support





The 32nd Gene Key is not about self-perservation, but is about the Preservation of Life.

Only that which will adapt itself will survive and flourish.

Nature represents the old rootstock…once we have this as our anchor, we can graft our modern technologies onto the old wisdom and the result will be truly transcendent. 


J texts he’s gonna have lunch with a friend at 2:30 and call me after to sync up


I remember the word that popped up in my dream last week GOPHERING.

I google it.

Then I google gopher burrow systems, thinking whatever diagram comes up might be the next structure of pervette..

Maybe this is the rootstock..


I was gonna put on music but I came across some Philosophize This episode on Foucault and Power. I listen to it and fall asleep.

I wake up form my nap around 4, thinking I might’ve missed J’s call.

He hasn’t called.

I can’t remember what I did before I decided to leave the apt around 5:44 to go for a walk..


Weren’t we supposed to meet at 4?

I’m wondering if this meeting is actually gonna happen. I mean I haven’t seen him in almost 4 years, who’s to say he’s not gonna ghost at the lat minute.


He used to make me wait.


He would always come over every Tuesday around 6:30, after his shift at the Y (he was a personal trainer). We would fuck for 30 minutes, lay around and chat for 15, and he would quickly get up and leave.


The wait, knowing that we were gonna fuck today.

The grooming, getting my pussy ready, there was a ritual.


All for a seemingly short, but perfect passionate fuck.

I can feel it when we fuck, sometimes we would tell me, that this is what he thinks about when he’s at the Y, knowing today is the day.

Me too.


I like the way he desires my body, my breasts..

I liked his, muscular, tall, strong..


It was meat and potatoes sex.

Nothing kinky.


Did we use protection?

I don’t think so.

I loved it raw.

Did he come inside me.

I think so.

I think I was on the pill.



The leave, of course I wanted him to say longer, but I never showed it.

The way he left was very avoidant.

It wasn’t until a year later did I suggest we grab dinner after.

We did, a few times.

Once we did coke, fucked, grabbed dinner at Gather, he asked our waitress if she was Mormon, she looked oddly familar, why did we think that funny I don’t know, then we caught Terence Malick’s  Tree of Life at the California. That was our longest hangout.


Then soon after, he went on OKCupid and went on 50 dates in one week. Just because he can.


I walked along the Palisades Park, looking out into the beach..

I walked to an interesting tree and sat on it and examined the grooves on the bark. An Australian man wearing a turquoise polo shirt and white shorts came up to me, he said I look so something where I am and asked if I wanted my picture taken. I said sure..

He was smiley and chatty. He pulled a picture out of his short pocket he took in 1982. It was taken right around here he said..

I can see that it was.

Something about someone holding an actual picture of the spot that it was taken around the same time I was born. And he were both are at that spot..

He said that you can still see the holes in the bluffs now as it was in the photo..

Was this right here? I asked

It was a little over there, he pointed. We started walking in that direction. I can tell he was happy I was curious. And that he had someone to talk to..

He’s into vintage things, he’s out here for the flea markets and vintage stores, I can’t remember what he likes to collect specifically.

We made it to the spot. Oh wait, no it’s not me, it’s further down he says, we keep on walking.

Here it is!

I have him hold up the picture just so…

Everything looks almost the same as the photo except or the houses, which are more squished and narrow now.

He’s very good at keeping the conversation going. I ask for his email so I can email hi, the photo I took, he was pleasantly surprised to hear that, he said he’ll give me his dad’s. I ask what’s his name.


I have to go meet a friend. It was a pleasure.


I think J lacks integrity. I conclude.

Didn’t we say we were gonna meet at 4?

Well he did say he’ll call me after he’s done with lunch with his gender ambiguous friend.

He’s on a date, I imagine, it went way over, he’s probably fucking her.


It’s past 6.


M texts, she says she can meet tonight. I text her that I’m about to meet with a friend and will let her know in an hour if tonight can work.


I tell J, I tell him hat I’m out on a walk, if I can get a rough ETA that would be great.


I decide to go to Dragon Herbs, it’s right down Santa Monica Blvd, and get some elixir that’s mood elevating..


On my way, I step into an old timey British store that sells bric a bracs and has a bakery in the back..

How old are these pastries?

I ask the store clerk, there used to be an art and architecture around here, it is still around?

The woman next to him said Barnes and Nobles closed a few years ago.

He said there’s bookstore just down the street. It’s pretty good, it has both new and used books..


I found the bookstore. Monster books.

i love books. more books please

(P just came over and typed the line above)


What time do you close I ask the Asian clerk. 9pm.

It’s 6:40pm, I need to get to Dragon Herbs (just down the street) before it closes.

Great. I’ll be back.


Oh hi!

R, the same clerk who helped me pick out my tinctures was there. And so was the guy who made my Coconut Cordyceps Cooler. I told himti was delicious. I didn’t tell him it made my stomach feel funny and made me whoozy, though.

I told him I’m looking for a mood elevating tonic.

He hands me the menu..


And suggest the Supreme Shen Elixir. It was has something flower, and that’s a great mood elevator..

It’s one of the more pricier ones, $11. I like pricer things for a reason.

Their price always seems right.

I also like taking people’s suggestions..

Shen Supreme Elixir it is.

He also gives me a cup of Gynostema tea on the house, since it’s almost closing time.

I leave the shop with two cups, which hand holds the $11 drink which one holds the free drink?


J texts. He’ll be there in 20-30 min, his friend can’t find her car. Lol.



I go back to Monster books.

I don’t think I need a book.

But there was a book that caught my attention.

It was the only book wrapped in plastic. And the words Blow Up caught my attention. Like the movie?

Yes, it was all about the movie. A collection of film reviews all about Blow-Up.

Well, Antonioni is one of my favorite directors..

And Blow-Up was one of those films that went over my head a little when I watched it in college. It was aesthetically interesting, but I was distracted and more impatient back then.

I think it’ll be a different if I were to watch it again now.

According to one review (in the back of the book), this is one of the greatest films of all time.

Did I miss something?

10 bucks. Plastic wrapped. Most likely out of print. Not to found on Amazon. I’ll get it.

It’s almost the same price as my Supreme Shen Elixir, that I just finished.

Did I buy the $11 tonic to justify the $11 book that I kinda want to buy?

The former is ephemeral, the latter can be in my permanent collection.

I’ll take it.


For every book I buy, there’s always a book I don’t buy, but want to..


When we were eating our ice creams outside I was talking about the immersive sex show I wanted to create.

Which reminded J

He said he was going through his blazers yesterday, and in one of them he found the Queen of the Night hand necklace

Oh whoa, that was from our NY trip together..

That was such a fun trip.

Remember that night?

Oh yeah I tied E (his wife at the time) up and blindfolded her,

And then you were holding her down, as P fucked her.

I just remember the video, J said, You were filming it, and you sounded so creepy, he laughed.

What did I say?

We like the blood.

Oh yeah!

She was on her period.

And you pulled out her tampon and handed it to me.

And we had to do all this behind the scenes sign language to make the whole gangbang run smoothly.

(Did I fuck her with my Share?)

And afterwards, when we al showering rinsing off, we sounded like bros in the locker room high fiving each other.

And then the night after, we had that asian valedictorianon on asian valedictorian threesome?

And E was kinda butthurt that I used the same massage move on M as I did on her the night before

Oh man..




Things I put inside me:

Lemon water, 2 plantain pancakes, wedge of goat cheese, jujubes, supemem shen elixir, Level’s Viper Cookies, Supreme Shen Elixir and Gymnostema Tea at Dragon Herbs; Roasted sweet japanese yam salad, Shojin Dynamite aroll 2.1, Baked scallop roll seared at the table at Shojin in Culver City with J and M; child’s scoop of mint chip ice cream on a sugar coneat Ginger’s, a good-looking ice cream down the street from Shojin

The weather was perfect, almost tea shirt weather at night.

I was wearing my Rick Owens leather jacket, Alo low sleeve hole tank and Alo pants..

Things I bought: $11 Supeme Shen elixir, $11 Blow-Up  book, $8 ice cream for us three

Monday, Oct 22, 2018 9:44am

Santa Monica


Dear You,

I keep on thinking the next day or this day is going to be the day that I sit down and write it out. Go deep in my journaling, rememoiring, and pervetting.

I always think today’s gonna be the day

And then something happens.

My mood.

It dictates everything.


I wish I can dictate my life.


My mind has been scattered these past couple of days. I wonder if it’s the lectins I’m eating or the cannabis I’m smoking (not that much of). Or something else.


I realize I like writing about nothing to you.


I don’t tell you about the interesting conversations I’m having.

Or my grand plans I’ve been conspiring.


I don’t tell you much of the things that I think I’ll definitely remember.


I tell you the things that I think will slip away if I don’t write it down now.

The feelings, the moods, the weather, the food I eat, the unremarkable to some, but to me it means something.


I had this thought for a while if I can just capture every choice I make I will have captured my life.

But I’m making a choice almost every minute, maybe even every second.


Like right now I’m choosing to stay here and continue writing to you.

I’m choosing to not get up and fix myself a cup of tea

Or make pancakes.


Too many choices.


Is this what happens when you don’t have a job?

You have no structure in your life.

You are filled in infinite choices.


There’s no such thing as too many choices

When you quiet your mind.


That’s my wiser self



Funny how the other week I was doing so great with intermittent fasting and not thinking about food constantly.

And now here I am thinking about food. Constantly.

I want to get to the bottom of this.

What’s going on?


Since class last Tuesday or the Tuesday before, I’ve been coming to some realization that the reason why the Buddha uses all these Pali words that have double meanings with taste and food as he’s speaking about the nidannas and clinging is that he’s trying to make a point.

Our relationship to food is the most salient direct experience we have with clinging and craving and mental formations and so forth.

If we can have a healthy handle on our relationship to food and our bodies, if we can eat mindfully and moderately, then we will have created a strong base for self-liberation.

I truly believe that.

That’s how I know I’m not fully liberated.

Because I’m still craving, I’m still thinking about what to eat next,  I’m still slightly beating myself up for eating that ice cream last night (it was mint chip, my favorite). I’m still thinking I’m 4 pounds overweight.

That’s how I know I’m not there yet.


But to some degree I think most of America and possibly the world has a strange fucked up relationship to food and their bodies. Especially women.

I can only speak for myself. But I see myself in others.


Changing subject..

Now that I’m obsessed with this Olli app, I’ve been taking more pictures, thinking I’m going to share this and that abstracted image with you with captions.

Before I used to see my life in words (when I think about what I want to share with you)

Now I see my life in comic book form.

Or like that A-ha video, Take on Me.


Can you see it? How I’m going to share with you is getting more dynamic.

And once I get some audio files in here.

It’s like you’re kinda re-living my life.

Or at least I am as I’m putting all this together.


But it gets overwhelming. I can get so obsessive and go endlessly deep in detail, I want to capture it all.

And then I think, but about the rest of Pervette. I still have all these other paths to carve.

Am I getting to monomaniacal with my lived experiences?

Is this narcissistic?

To see the beauty around and want to share it with you?

Can one be too obsessed with the impermanence of their life?


But that’s the point, the tension of trying to let go and then totally not.

It’s the extremes.

That’s what makes this interesting..

This wouldn’t exist, these words, if I decided to just let it all go.

But maybe this is the middle?

Some days I write, some days I don’t.

Like I thought I was gonna write yesterday, but instead I was in the moment.

But who says this writing isn’t the moment.

I’m in it.


Sometimes I feel like writing makes me high.

What I’m saying is that I feel high,

Yet I haven’t smoked



Yes I’ve been thinking about it.


I think I go through phases of being a maximalist

in consumption.

I’m in that phase now.

Maybe it has something to do with the moon waxing.


Do I write what’s in my head or what’s outside of me?


Or what’s in my body. I’ve just had apple cider vinegar and lemon juice. My stomach is growling. Should I make a pancake? Or two?

But will the process of making that pancake, eating it, digesting it change the way I think and feel? And more importantly will it change the way I write to you?

Most likely.

I feel airy and spacey. And slightly manic. Maybe food will be grounding.


Pancake is on the stove. It’s 10:36am. Fuck that intermittent fasting.


I keep thinking I’m gonna go back and clean up my writing to you and fill in the missing parts.

But the thing is there’s no way to do relatively quickly. I can spend hours just on a day. Once I start remembering, I want to write down all the details, and the details keep coming.

Do I need to learn how to type faster? I mean I’m still staring at the fucking keyboard. I’m not being efficient here.


Why am I cursing so much?


Is there some low level tension I’m having with myself?


Most likely. It’s prolly because I feel like I can’t stop eating or thinking about food.

Like there’s two selves..

The one who’s like hey, you’re leaving for NY tomorrow, you should really make a green smoothie with all the avocados, spinach, lettuce, lemons and mint you have left. And maybe finish that second half of the soft goat cheese too. Don’t want to waste that. And don’t you want fish tacos for dinner? Aren’t you curious about checking out Tocaya Organica? It’s conveniently close..

And the other one who’s like, didn’t you say yesterday that today is gonna be the day that you’re gonna start clean, fast if you can and eat minimally? You don’t want to be fat for NY do you? You only have one day left to get thin before NY, and this is how you wanna do it. By letting yourself go. You can forget about wearing anything sexy for the Halloween party.

Yeah, it’s kinda like that.

Combined with periodically lifting up my tank top to check out my waistline in the mirror and be super critical of my waist to hip ratio.



Anyways, I had my pancake. It was yummy.

I’m gonna hold back from having pancake number two.

That would be gluttonous.


When I was eating my pancake, I realized the reason why I get lost in the details is because the details matter. Every choice I make (now it seems) is dependent on the details that I see around me. It’s the random conversationI had with this person, combined with my mood, my intuition, something or another, and a random thought pops up, and that’s my life, it’s trying to find its flow in every moment, nothing is ever quite set, it’s actually very fluid it feels.

And maybe that’s what I’m trying to capture, all the parts that make me flow through life. There are a bajillion micro choices I make in a day. And I’m trying to be more conscious of my subconscious and so there’s about a few parallel tracks in my mind going at times. And then there’s some part of me that’s reminding myself to stay present.


I don’t want my life to be about fearing the forgetting.

But I do think that’s my biggest fear. I fear that I will forget.

What I ate last week and didn’t write down.

It’s only a trivial fear

But it adds up.


And then there’s the meta me who who wants to understand why am I thinking about what I’m thinking?

Why am I obsessed with what I’m obsessed with?

This meta me is also a positive teleologist.

It’s the part of me who doesn’t brain shame me for being monomaniacal and OCD.

It’s the part of me who thinks I’m this way for a good reason.

There’s a reason why I need to record everything.

There’s a reason why I want to remember.

I believe I’m collecting the dots, the data points.

At some point I will connect what I collect

And my future self will thank my present self

For trying to record my past self.

I feel this to be true.

There is an A-ha coming.

I’m just doing the work leading up to it.

At some point everything will make perfect sense

to others.

To me

It already does.


Maybe we only have so much energy to share in a day.

Maybe this is why I had to put social media on hiatus.

Because I’m too busy trying to share in a different way

then I have before.

You’re no longer getting the fantasy version of me.

That is the version of me that serves the projection of your fantasy.

You’re getting me.

The real me.

The real me is neurotic

as fuck.

At least that’s how I feel right now.


Maybe all this


being thrown around is

a call for me to examine the word



I’ve been meaning to do that.

It’s such an interesting word.

It occupies all parts of speech.

It’s negative and positive,

It’s both a subconscious and conscious expression.


It’s the word you wanna say when you realize



Maybe that’s the goal, the point of it all.

To reach the holy fuck.

The holy fuck is about your holes and wholeness

It’s about opening yourself up

And letting your truth come out


The holy fuck is your truest self expression.


I hope Pervette will be my Holy Fuck.


Pervette is my Holy Fuck.


Now am I ready to get on with remembering?

I’m gonna go back to Sunday and write about it.


Here’s what right now looks like





Dear You,

So much for my day of writing…

I was in my groove, then I got a text from G around noon. We discussed plans for this week in NY re meetings for the doc. Then it turns out she’s still in LA is actually staying at a friend’s down the street on Ocean Ave, and she thought I should meet her friend.

I had my korean scrub/massage/yoni steam appt at 1:45. But I figure I can stop by for a quick hello. I took the Tesla since there was no reception for some reason and I couldn’t get a Lyft.

I got to their place around 1:17pm, we chatted and I took off at 1:35. I parked the car back at the garage of the building and ran to Tikkun spa. I was 20 min late, but it was all good it seem.

My masseuse sounded like she had a Vietnamese accent, I asked her if she was, and she said yes. So we talked in Vietnamese while she gave me a good scrub.

She says it’s a generational thing, nobody Vietnamese in her generation would ever do anything like this.

By this I think she meant get naked on a table, let someone spray you down (with warm hot water)on a massage table, and scrub all the dead skin off any inch of your body (except for your vagina).

True. My mom would never do anything like this, I tell her.

She said my Vietnamese was really good for being born here.

I tell her it’s because I still talk to my mom in Vietnamese.

I ask her if she speaks to her son in english or Vietnamese.

She says her English is only for work. She definitely still speaks to him in Vietnamese. Otherwise when they get into fights, she would totally lose since he could out-word her.

She says her son is pretending he’s not Vietnamese.

I don’t know I didn’t tell her not to worry, it’s just a phase.

I was there.


Holy fuck, as I’m writing to you I just developed a crazy allergic reaction on the crook of my right arm. I just put on my hoodie a minute ago, which I washed at my mom’s house with Tide. I think it has something to do with the combination of getting an intense scrub, and prolly being more susceptible to the chemicals in the detergent. (I usually use the natural detergents).


Oh fuck, I see the tiny bumps developing on my legs and on my torso. It’s not as bad as my arm. Ugh.


Maybe the Korean scrub was a terrible idea. It could be the soapy scrub they used that I’m allergic to.

And then tomorrow I’m hopping on a plane, another place I get weird skin irritants.

I’m fucked.


If I didn’t get the scrub I could’ve had the natural oils from my body and my epidermis be a barrier to all the irritants.


Note to self, no more fucking scrubs.


I just applied Cortisone all over my body.

Tomorrow I need to pick up an antihistamine.


I’m already OCD enough. Do I really need an allergic reaction right now.

I don’t think I’ve ever had it like this before.


What I put inside me: ACV, lemon water, 1 pancake, 2 fish tacos with butterleaf lettuce as shells, a green smoothie I made

What I spent $ on: $225 on a korean scrub, hot oil massage, V(agina) steam

$7 on a No-Coffee vanilla latte at Bulletproof Cafe

$88 on a Reformation black hoodie with the words “Love Your Mother” on it.

$7 on two Baja fish tacos at Tocaya Organica


Tuesday, Oct 23, 2018 7pmish EST

On the Delta flight from LAX to JFK

Dear You,

After I wrote to you. I decided to take a shower, thinking I can wash off the irritant from my body. It was soothing. Then I slathered Cortisone 10  “Intensive Healing Formula”  all over my body. My arms, my legs, my chest, my torso. It wasn’t that bad, they were only tiny spots here and there, except in the crook of my right arm, that looked like a rash.

I also slathered on this slave called “All Good” it was made of olive oil, calendula, and other things that happens to be goood for a rash (I found out from googling detergent rash homeopathic remedies).

A balance of OTC cortisone and  “all good,” gota cover all the bases.

The more the better when it comes to healing.

I went to bed naked, I didn’t trust any of my clothes. Even the ones that weren’t washed at my mom’s house.

But who’s to say the sheets that P got laundered are safe. He doesn’t even know what they’re using to wash his laundry.

I feel like I always some body issue I have to fuss about. Is it me? Or is it life and it just so happens I’m an OCD hypochondriac.

Feel how I was freaking out about poison oak last week, and wondering if this rash will show itself a week later (like it says in WedMD).

I somehow thought I dodged that bullet.

But then I got a korean scrub and fucked myself.


I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was check my right arm. I think it looks slightly better

I left P an animoji in my most defeated little mupps voice, Hey Mupps. Guess what? I think my korean body scrub is giving me some kind of crazy rash or soemthing. Oh dear. (sniffle sniffle).

P replies, trying to mirror me, Whoa mupps, it must be really bad, because you sound super super sad.

Somehow the act of sounding super sad made me feel better.

I called P up, he says, the good thing is you now have an excuse to go buy a ton of creams and vitmains and supplements to make yourself feel better.

He knows me so well.


I’m glad I didn’t meet with G, I needed the whole mornig to slowly get ready, pack and make a pancake and drink my first jar of green smoothie.


I packed two seprate suitcases. The big one that’s going with me to NY, and a small one, P’s carryon, it was filled with my “infected” clothes, tins of teas I got at dragon’s herbs, the tinctures. that I “don’t really need.” I put back Eantrpreneur’s Elixir, Sparkle, Cultured Cordyceps, and Eleuthero.

I debated whethere I should back the Antonioni book I got on Blow-Up. I leaf through it. It’s a book of reviews about Blow-Up. I don’t think I really need it for this trip.

I’m proud of myself. I used to pack 4 books that I never read for every trip. This time I’m packing one. Reality Hunger.I tihnk I’ve brought this book with me to NY 3 times in a row. I’m a slow reader. Besides this book is my current bible. I love  savoring each line.


I got a Lyft to LAX.

The driver said he’s never seen it like this before, getting to the airport was a breeze. It took 18 minutes. He says there’s usually there’s this wait to get into the airport, esp at this hour.

This is bizarre, he says.


“That’s such a good idea,” said a Delta lady escorting me to the bad drop line. She’s taling about my giant mason jar of green smoothie that I made last night. “I’m gonna start doing that. Thank you!”

“Ooo that looks good! What’s in there?” asks the Delta lady at the counter. The Delta lady. next to her is curious too.

Avocadoes, spinach. lettuce, lemons and mint, I tell them.

They’re excited for me. You better drink that up.

What time’s your flight? 12:55, you got about an hour. You don’t want to throw that away.


I  was pretty full from my pancake and other jar of green smoothie I had at home. Now it feels like overkill. I stepped outside to sipmy smoothie. By the time I got to the security checkpoint, I had finished half of the quart-sized jar. I tossed it. Goodbye jar.


Made it through security, they didn’t detect the DMT vape pen. I wasn’t too worried this time.


Walking through Terminal 3 I saw a Harry Potter poster. I thought about how J, my former lover, engineered the harry Potter ride. And how popular these fantasy worlds are.

I never really had a desire for fiction. I actually don’t understand how people can get obsessed with make believe. What’s more interesting is what’s real. That outlines the possibilities.


Films always have sequels and sagas, what about documentaries?  A person’s life is always continuing…


I wiped down my seat, headrest, screen, window screen, armrests, the magazine holder, the air vents above, seat buckle..

I used to only wipe down the areas that my hands would touch, but then on this one Delta flight, an even more OCD Asian women sitting next to me, pointed out to me that I didn’t wipe down my seat or headrest, as she proceeded to wipe down her entire seat.

Oh shit. You’re right.

So I’ve been even more anal ever since.


I got lucky. When I booked my flight, all the Delta Comfort side seats were taken. I hate middle seats, so I opted for a main cabin window seat in a two-seater row.

It was a pretty full flight, but I somehow got the whole two seats/row to myself. I pulled the armrest up and now I’m sitting Indian style, writing to you.


I am rarely in the mood to write when I’m on the plane.

But here I am.


I’m only interested in watching documentaries when I’m on the plane.

I only thing I watched in its entirety was the Robin Williams doc called Come Inside My Head (the title is basically what I’m trying to do with Pervette).

It’s interesting to really examine Robin Williams, his energy is insane. It’s like this raw truth that needs to come out and he has this ability to express it in lightning speed.


I think comedy is the ability to express suffering, which is reality, in a way that sidesteps the ego.

To get around the ego, you have to laugh your way around it.


The Maynard documentary was pretty boring, just talking heads..

The faux documentary I, Tonya, was okay.

The Ends of the World was also okay.

I saw 20 min of each


The flight was super short it seem.


I made it to Assemblage on John St.


P was very happy to see me, the mupps were reunited..

The room at the assemblage is really nice. It’s actually a full on apartment. There’s a functioning kitchen (with dishwasher), living room, dining area with comfy booth seating, a long work table and tons of closet space. The only downside is there’s a single vanity in the bathroom. But I think we can manage.


They had the same globe floor lamp we had at NEMA (and gave away when we moved out).


Rose gold pens, dreamcatchers for do not disturb signs, large geode crystals and labadorite stones as table decor, actual living plants. It was as close to my style as it can get.

And the room rate was beyond reasonable. This must be NY’s best kept secret.


P went shopping at Whole Foods earlier today. He got the staples..

Avocadoes, lemons, parmesan cheese, olives, olive oil, stevia, plantain bananas, eggs, bacon, etc, basically all the ingredients to make a green smoothie, plantain pancakes and bacon for breakfast in the morning.


P had prepared the pan and asparagus, mushrooms and brocollini to grill. It was his first time grilling veggies (he’s used to the oven). We grilled it together, and caught up over my late dinner.


P says he asked if they had a blender, the women he talked to said she’d be happy to order one for him.


He got me my Egyptian Magic and this other fancy salve for my rash.

He even got house slippers from Muji for us.

I told P I felt very welcomed.


My rash is getting way better.

I think the homeopathic path is the way to go.



My space  bar feels a little funny.

I wonder if my macbook got smooshed from all my external hard drives.


t. e s t i n  g          the right side of the space bar                          

  it feels different or is it because I’m trying to type differently without looking at my fingers


After P went to bed, I quietly unpacked and settled into the space, organized and tidied things up.

How I settle in is by cleaning and putting things in their place until everything around me looks aesthetically pleasing.

Which was easy to do in this space.

They even have a zafu for me.


Oh btw, my rash is looking way better, I’m not concerned about it anymore.


Every neurotic thing with my body is a continual reminder everything is impermanent..


I went to bed listening to a Philosophize This episode on The Buddha.


The Buddha says everything that once delights us will soon lose its delight.

I think Cutie is that special exception. She gets even more delightful as she gets more magical over time.


What I put inside me: Lemon water, plantain pancake, tons of green smoothie;  (on the plane) goat cheese, turmeric crackers, japanese chestnuts, pomegranate from mom’s garden that she peeled for me, a piece of 100% cacao chocolate; asparagus, mushrooms, and broccolini P and I grill together at the Assemblage apt, some parmasean cheese and olives

$$ I spent: Lyft ride to LAX, bottle of water, Uber ride from JFK to Assemblage

Wednesday, Oct. 24, 2018


My first day in NY was a full one.

I got up and showered, met P downstairs for breakfast. He was sitting on a cushion on the ground journaling, wearing his Burning Man shorts with some long johns underneath, he seem to fit right in the space, which reminded me of out Burning Man camp.

He read to me his journal entry.


He says he was really happy to see me last night.

He was feelign groggy and funny this morning and we slept in.


We got breakfast.


We came back to the room. How did it start?

It was P’s idea.

We started kissing.

And then we made love.

When P pulled out so I can get on my side, he said,



I looked at the sheets. There was blood

Oh shit. I’m bleeding.

That’s crazy. I haven’t bled in a year.

It smelled bloody irony.

Why don’t you stick it in and don’t pull out, I suggested.


We continue to fuck..

P thought he ruined his own orgasm when his cock slipped out as he was about to come.

He said he came for sure in his head.

He stuck it back it in, we fucked, it was perfectly hard, and he came hard.


I can feel his sweat on my body, and did he get his lubey hands in my hair?

I rinse off.

My hair doesn’t look too lubey.


We decided to walk to Union Park Cafe. We got lunch with D and L, our two Asian pro domme friends. L was really into sex robots, how is it going to affect the future of intimacy.

I had to leave lunch early to meet J, a friend that A wanted me to meet. He’s the creator of Touchpoint.

I somehow got really turned around on my way to the other Assemblage, the one in Nomad. It was perfectly convenient that L wanted to get lunch at Union Park Cafe and J wanted to meet at Assemblage Nomad, it was a 7 min walk, said Google the night before. And that’s what D estimated right before I left. But even then, when I left the restaurant, I started walking left when I should’ve been walking right, I punched in Assemblage and it said it was 17 min walk, and 11 min car ride away. What happened? I was already a little late, I quicky hopped in a cab, and it took me a sec to get the address loading on google. When it did, the driver had to turn back around and I then I realized I’m an idiot, google maps was talking about another place called assemblage. Even the cab driver was slightly shaking his head agreeing with me when I said I should’ve  totally walked. 6 min later, I drove by the restaurant I just left and another 6 min more..

Anyways, I made it. The cab driver made 10 bucks. And it didn’t matter too much I was 15 min late.

I mention all of this because I just wanted to let you know that I have the worst sense of direction in new environments. When trying to get my barings in new surroundings, I will always go left, when I should go right.

But that’s how I learn, by getting lost and going in circles..

And it’s a note to self: when in a slight hurry and things don’t add up, pause, pause, pause, rather then go go go..

I gave the front desk my birth name, forgetting that J only knows me as Colette, he comes and fetches me. He’s wearing black overalls, looks like a new york burner type, we got chatting, he’s super sweet, excited and slightly scattered.

We chatted for a bit he was excited to do a podcast interview with me. Before we went into a private room we grabbed some tea, and that’s when I bumped into A (who was the one who introduced me to J) and T, our breakup bootcamp alum who’s now a part of the team as the manager, we three way hugged.

Then we did out podcast.. J had a ton of questions, all my answers in mid sentence would lead him to other questions, so we meandered for a bit, but at the end, I somehow tied it together. The why and how of BDSM. I felt slightly possessed, channeling this fierce woman, who was wide eyed, had this intense emotional voice.. J was wide-eyed and quiet… whoa, he said.

That was amazing.

How do you feel? he asked.

I dunno. I feel great. I’m feeling everything..


I feel like


What I put inside me: lemon water, a little salad, scrambled eggs, a pancake and a tiny bit of porridge from Assemblage (with P) ; bread and butter, scallop crudo, burrata on crostini, and spaghettini with duck ragu at Union Park Cafe (with P, D and L); mint tea at the Assemblage Nomad with J; Level’s Viper Cookies and Cherry Cheesecake on the walk back to Assemblage; golden mylk latte and hot virgin cacao (for $20) at Dr. Smood; Open Heart cacao elixir (sips of A’s Creation, P’s Arise and Release) at the Assemblage; 2 fish tacos and soem cauliflower bravas at Assemblage; snacking on chestnuts, olives, chocolate with G, A, and P

What I spent $ on: $10 cab ride to go a few blocks, $40 donation to Gene Keys in exchange for two copies of Richard Rudd’s new book, The Art of Contemplation, $150 on the special edition hardcover Gene Keys with a special message written by Richard Rudd



Thursday, Oct 25, 2018


P woke up with an even scratchier throat. He felt like he was coming down with something..


I was feeling pretty low energy and just ever so slightly under the weather.

Should we caviar (order in)? I suggested.

Let’s go to Eataly, he suggested.

We walked 100 ft outdoors then we were inside the station, which led to the Oculus, the whole experience of the underground stores that leads to a futuristic mall reminded us of our days in Tokyo..


We landed in an Italian restaurant with a seat by the window..


I got spaghetti two days in a row

I got the Open Heart elixir two days in a row

Last week I got spring rolls two days in a row


At Duane Reade, we got the 30 pack of Oscillococinium. Zicam Rapidmelts, Zohto eyedrops (for me), Magnesium (for P), travel sized version of Sensodyne (for me)


I’m loving my new Reformation black hoodie.


As P naps, I try to fill in the gaps in my journal entries to you from Sunday (can you tell?), it’s (of course) not even complete. I didn’t even get to Monday, or Tuesday or Wednesday.

I lost some of what I wrote at the beginning when I didn’t hit save. I hate it when that happens..


It’s 1:11am, P says it’s bedtime..


I’m not tired..

NY always keeps me up.


Back to my previous week