Dear Pop. My relationship with you, perhaps, has been complex in a different way than it was with mom, who was severely ill for seventeen years until she passed.
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Mommy. I didn’t think i’d say this but: I miss you. It’s weird because you were severely ill for seventeen years of my life.
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Today I had a daydream . . . I dreamed of a world where the common news is curated not by adults that are already weary . . .
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Is my perfectionism getting in my own way? The answer to that, chances are, is YES. If you’re asking yourself that question, it is obvious you’re feeling some traction there.
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It’s the little sweet things, that contain a seed in them. The seed of wonder, of truth, of a whole depth of experience that can hardly be told in words.
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I always loved to travel. To see the world. Taste new flavors. Meet new people and ways of life I’d never seen or imagined before.
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” . . . this is one of the most powerful insights or kizukis that has altered my understanding of the world . . .
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Here is one of those naturally unwinding Issa-and-Mae conversations as I lay next to him in bed, just before saying goodnight . . .
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Okay, there are two types of people in the world: An Uplifting C*nt or a Down-dragging D*ck. In short, either you’re an Up-C*nt or a Down-D*ck.
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