1557 Noe St., San Francisco

At the center of my existence is anger. It's something I haven't really touched or dealt with in a while. It's not denial, I just haven't had the need to. And more importantly, dealing with it probably would have been a really bad idea. Not dealing with it was a safety mechanism. If I grappled with it, I would probably have killed myself. I don't think I'm suppressing or repressing anything in any extreme, unhealthy way. It's always there and it's getting expressed some way or another, but I just can't grab it with both hands and deal with it because that would be too overwhelming.

But it's certainly not benign, and it certainly is keeping me from...I don't know what. Something. It's a great unknown. I don't know what to do with it. For now it's alright to acknowledge it and that it is having an adverse effect on my living my life.

198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco

May 1998

I'm dealing with a brimful of resentment that I'd been suppressing. I certainly will not be looking back at this relationship fondly. Right next to any memories that may have reminded me of her in a light of fondness...

Her screaming "I hate you" out of the window as I left the house, walking down the hill, away from her venom.

The sound of her throwing things around her room, calling me "asshole" through the wall.

The sound of her destroying the puzzle of Klimt's “The Kiss” that I got for her and meant so much to me because I thought it meant something to her.

Her calling me on the phone from the next room just to yell, "I know everything!", insipidly implying that I'd been hiding something from her all the while.

I have a lot of resentment now and I wish I could burn her memory out of my mind. Ironically, she was so close to being the one for me. If there wasn't violence...I don't know. I mentioned that it was just a catalyst and our problems ran much deeper. I don't know if those problems would have been solved even without the violence.

Maybe she was right. I wasn't happy with the relationship even though I thought it was. Maybe I was in denial and she could sense it. I don't know. Maybe I wasn't happy with the relationship and was in denial, but I don't know if she really sensed it. It's just as much a possibility that she's just extremely, extremely insecure and paranoid and conjured up all these scenarios to be jealous about because of her fear.

And she's moving out. She couldn't do anything worse to hammer the final nail into the coffin of our relationship. It's abandonment, it's running away, it's counter to anything that could possibly be considered communication. So forget it. She's out. She's dead to me. I did love her. I still do, but I would never go back to her.

Who would I go back to? Not Amina, probably not Shiho. What were their fatal flaws? Amina just doesn't exist anymore. The magnitude of her betrayal rescinded her existence to me. What I loved and still love does not exist anymore in regard to her. I'm sure she's changed beyond my recognition and any pangs are only reminiscences from before. Shiho's fatal flaw is spinelessness. Not being able to break up even when I knew that's what she wanted. She lost my respect.

Luyen just got annoying after a while. Hiromi suffered because of me, she didn't do anything wrong. We didn't communicate and there were serious chemistry problems, but my apologies to her would fill an ocean. I did her wrong, even if I eventually meant nothing to her. Maybe that’s why I meant nothing to her. I was the spineless one. And ironically, it was the semester with her I would relive if I could relive any part of a past relationship. Coffee. Third World House. Sakuko and I just didn’t work at that time. It may have worked if it happened now. I had too many problems back then.

And I wouldn’t go back to Josephine because there is this list of fatal flaws that indicate she is very simply the wrong person for me, which counters any good points of our relationship.

198 Shakespeare St., San Francisco

February 1998

Aquarius: "Figure out what three experiences you want more than anything else in this life. Write it all down. And be very specific in describing the exact kind of love you really, really want."

1) to experience a spiritual realization that will be the zenith of my present life on earth; the culmination of all that I've been learning; have it all wrap up like a good movie plot. Not enlightenment, obviously, but a mini-enlightenment for this lifetime. The big Buddha E is for all of reality, all lifetimes, all existences; what leads to the end of the cycle of re-births and into bodhisattva/angel existence. I just want a little e for the small things I've been learning and that I'm meant to learn in this life as this person.

2) to be in a rock band with people I like and connect with creatively. Bandmates who are friends I can rely on and have fun with. And I want the experience of that band being reasonably popular and have at least a strong local following.

3) I want to find a love that is a metaphor for God or a relationship with/to/for God. I want someone who will just let me be myself without trying to second guess my thoughts and feelings. I want someone who can take me at face value because she knows what's underneath. I want someone who I can just let be, and trust, relax, and stop with. I want someone that waking up with is a daily affirmation of love and life. I want someone who puts stuff into me, as well as takes stuff out of me, and with whom doing so is comfortable and natural. I want someone who is the songs I will write, the photographs I will print, and the reason why I run and keep on running, which is living.

And realize, Koji, right now that Josephine is not it. This relationship will run its course and it will come to an end. Do not erase this, she believes the exact same thing. Once she grows and learns to let go, she will; and she is growing.

**********************************

I can still hate myself and direct that hate against myself. I can take any situation that evokes a feeling I can't deal with and turn it into hate against myself. That's what I learned from my parents, that is my mortal trump card. Depression, frustration, desperation; I can turn them all into anger and hate, and direct it at myself. That's what I've learned to do and it's a lesson I can't unlearn.

**********************************

I saw Wim Wender's "Far Away, So Close"; another study in angel theory, á là "Wings of Desire", but more geared to a commercial audience. Nevertheless, there was a lot there.

Angels as intermediaries between humans and God. But not just messengers that treat God and humans as separate, distinct realities. The angels whisper our thoughts to us, whisper our conflicts, our dilemmas, the problems and issues of our behavior that we ultimately decide. They whisper responses, imparting to those who are open to their input; contributing to those who listen with their hearts and not their ears.

Angels as intermediaries between God and humans. But to an extent there is no distinction between God and humans. God is a part of all humans and humans contribute to the nature of God. So angels are only intermediaries between us and ourselves, our Buddha-nature. Angels only connect us to ourselves; that part of us which is the nature of God, inspired by God.

1347 La Loma, Berkeley

March 1996

Diem had been getting my postcards. I wasn't sure whether she had or not. I don't know how many had to be forwarded to her since I don't know when she moved from Oberlin to Cleveland. She didn't feel that it was important to tell me I suppose.

For the past year she hasn't been saying anything in her very brief and sketchy letters, which never gave details and never told what she felt. And when she did mention her feelings, they felt glossed over as if to make everything seem fine.

So I wrote to her and told her our friendship was over. I told her where my life was and where I was in my life. I told her that I thought she had a lot of issues and hoped that she was dealing with them. I told her that I found life sad and people disappointing. I told her I loved her and called it quits because I wanted to end the friendship before it deteriorated into nothingness, with nothing good to remember.

I cited how I felt Shiho and I had become pen-pals in 1991 and how I wanted to break off all communications. Shiho meant so much to me that becoming pen-pals was too degrading to the meaning she had to me. But we didn't cut communications because Shiho didn't want to and we ultimately lost everything. Including the friendship and whatever meaning we had to our few memories. I didn't want that to happen with Diem.

I never found out what it was like between Diem and Amina after we broke up.

Ana Claire was just as easy. She called and got a cold response from me, and when she asked if I didn't want to talk to her, I told her not particularly. But that wasn't sad, and Ana Claire wasn't a disappointment. She was everything I thought she was and hoped she’d be, and in the end, that's all she was.

Feelings don't matter anymore. Neither does trust.

***********************************

Diem out, Ana Claire out, Luyen out. Luyen visited for five days because she's thinking of transferring to a college in the area. It did not go well. On her second night here, we got into a big discussion about “us” and “our” communication, and that discussion should never have happened. The assumptions, the gall, it was offensive and presumptuous. For someone who I hadn't seen for however long, she certainly took liberties about the things she felt she could say.

I can't even go into it, it was so appalling. I don't care about whatever she thought was a problem. It didn't deserve any discussion at all. If she has a problem with me, she can get the hell out, we're not that close anymore. What, is she living in a time warp? No one is going to have a problem with me and stay in my life anymore. I don't care about anyone's complaints about me. I am who I am and I'm not going to subject myself to criticism regarding who I am anymore. If anyone has a complaint, I'm the last person to whom they'd want to bring it.

It's almost laughable. I'm getting rid of people right and left, and she comes waltzing in accusing me of whatever and complaining about what is between us. Accusations? Get out. Complaints? Get out.

***********************************

I hate all this. I hate my life and I hate myself. I hate people and dealing with them. I hate walking down the street and seeing them. I try my best to keep my line of sight above everyone's heads so I don't have to look at people. I haven't done anything with my life and I have absolutely nothing to show for it except a lot of material possessions.

I don't care about anything. No more deep or in-depth discussions about anything with anyone. I'm just not interested. Politics, race, religion, injustice, inequality, civil rights, international relations; it's all talk and the world goes on the way it goes, and I can't even pay attention to my own needs. I'm not even listening to myself.

It's not better to burn out than fade away. I kind of like fading, slowly disappearing from peoples' lives, then remove any significance or presence I may have to them, then remove myself physically from their reality.

I told myself that I never want to feel this way again, that I wouldn't let myself. Well, here I am feeling this way again and I resolutely do not want to continue, to wait until things change. But what am I doing about it? Waiting until I'm 34? I don't like people or dealing with them, I can't communicate with anyone and no one knows what I'm about or where I'm coming from or where I am. It's as if I don't exist.

***********************************

I'm living week by week. I'm only living if there is something direct in the next week to live for. It started in February when I put an ad in the Express looking for musicians. Pathetic as it is, I only got one response - a Japanese-Filipino American drummer who's an ex-con. That's what I get? Is someone trying to tell me something? If someone's trying to tell me something, the message isn't being wasted. It's not even pathetic, it's genuinely funny!

That ad ran for three weeks, three weeks to endure. Then Luyen visited and I had to be here for that, then Madoka visited and that was another week. Then I put an ad in the Guardian to run three weeks, another three weeks bought. After that, let's see what keeps me here for another week. That will be the middle of April. On April 15, there will be a photo exhibit at school and I'm going to enter some photos. I can wait for that, too.

Mid-April? Amina's birthday? It's funny finally having a concrete plan. How long has this been coming? More than ten years?

As far back as I learned of a thing called suicide, it has meant something to me, a calling, a destiny. I've been suicidal all my life and never has it been completely gone. This isn't a recurring impulse that comes and goes, it is something that has always been here constantly as far back as I can remember.

***********************************

I wonder to myself what I would do if Amina called. I'd have an easier time if she sounded cheerful than if she sounded tentative or careful. I think I could tell her of the two loves I have for her. The human one, which is only a memory, which removed a good half of my trust. And the one that is beyond human, the one that would make it easy to be friends with her and to feel love towards her in that form. I don't know if I would decide to not kill myself if she called. I think it would depend on the circumstances. I would like to think that I would go right ahead with it regardless; having closed that gaping emotional wound she helped inflict.

***********************************

I can't begin to express how frustrating it is being human, being alive. Alive? I don't even know what that means. A study appeared in today's paper that tea and fruits have something in them which encourages the production of some kind of blood cell which is beneficial in preventing strokes.

I don't think I understand that impulse to control what our bodies do by controlling what goes into them. I understand a healthy diet to feel good, but to consume something so that certain chemical reactions happen which affects that which in turn helps prevent something as attenuated as strokes? That's just way too high maintenance. That's not being alive. If it takes too much thought to be alive, it isn't being alive.

I hate having to eat. I hate having to shower. I hate dealing with whatever is wrong with my skin which gives me a rash nightly. I hate body functions. I hate anything I need to do. I hate being contained in this skin; these defined borders of my existence which in reality is leaking away. I hate things I enjoy. I hate living. Not because it's miserable being alive, I can see how it doesn't have to be, I just don't like it.

I hate humanity and what it has done to this planet, to its people and cultures. I hate its values and what it emphasizes as important.

***********************************

I made contact sheets of two rolls of film that I shot from the end of February into March, and was discouraged by the results. None of the images grabbed me. It was all crap. I wondered if I should give up photography for a while, but I didn't want to join the line of people I've met who "used to do" photography. I don't want to feel like it's something I'm dabbling in and giving it up because it isn't making me feel good.

I only started doing photography a few months ago, what am I expecting of myself? That's no way to learn and grow if it's truly a way I want to express myself. There's so much more to photography than coming up with good prints. This was so basic when I started and was humble enough to not presume I could come up with good prints at all. I just need to go with these shots, pick the images I can remember why I shot them, and print those as best as I can.

247 19th Ave., #2 San Francisco

I told Cat everything about Amina that has been eating at me. I don't know if that was a good idea. I haven't talked about Amina to anyone who knew about us. Cat didn't know about us and that we were in a relationship, but she knew both of us as people at Oberlin. She had heard our names and seen our faces. It was painful talking about Amina and telling the truth about it.

Do unresolved issues always come back to demand resolution? There was a lot unresolved with Amina, but I'm not sure she feels that way. The way she cut everything off so swiftly and completely makes me think that there was no issue unresolved for her. It was done, get rid of it.

So what would I do if someday I get a call out of the blue from Amina? What would I do if I got a call from her now? I would tell her that I hated her. I would tell her that I lost all respect for her and that what she did was heartless and cowardly. And if she stayed on the line that long, I would also tell her that I would always be her friend and would always be open to her in a time of need.

But if we tried to continue a friendship, my hatred and resentment would be the foundation for it. I couldn't ever be indifferent to her, and I don't think I could ever love her again, so the feeling that would make a friendship possible must be hate.

Vikki got into town yesterday. Lisa, Nobuko, and I were cleaning the new house and she waltzed in. Things were weird and we didn't communicate or make eye contact, but I don't think anything is wrong between us. Vikki is just incredibly neurotic. Then I recently realized that I also get neurotic about Vikki. But when I'm finally around her, I find that it's all unfounded.

If anyone, it's Lisa who is going to be the problem in the household. It seems that she's getting a lot more selfish and obnoxious. I don't know what her problem is, but she's just thinking about herself and going against the rest of us. I think the lines of house politics have already been drawn. This can't be a good thing. When I don't like someone, I have a tendency to act like they don't exist. But I think Nobuko will always take Lisa's side if she feels I'm being cruel or unfair, so that's good.

247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco

I'm confused. I'm not sure what's going on. This can't be another cycle of what I've gone through before. This is not 1987-88 over again, it can't even be an analogy of that point in my life. I've grown since then, my view of life is different, and apart from the problems, I'm not the same person now as I was then.

But I can't really assess the differences between then and now because I don't remember too clearly what it was like back then. Maybe years from now I might see them as identical, when I get out of this and see clearly again.

What kept me from dying back then? Being numb? Not a very good reason. I don't want to be numb this time around if I have to go through those problems again. But I am more mature now and I have knowledge that I didn't have back then. It's just different. On the other hand, I'm more confident now in acting on my abilities, and if I make a decision, I'm more likely to carry it out and not equivocate and wallow in my misery. I wouldn't let myself live through what I went through before. My being alive now is a result of my inability back then. I'm glad that I didn't die back then. I wouldn't regret it if I did, but...I'm just a little glad.

It crosses my mind that I'm not at a point that is analogous to 1987-88, but perhaps a point even earlier, 1985 and thereafter when a series of events led to a loss of my support group. My brother and his friends graduated and went to college, Shiho left for Japan, Mark left Dwight for another job. There was that stupid thing with Rebecca. The isolation began during my Junior year and was complete by the time I was a Senior.

I feel like I've lost my support group, those vital, life-giving relationships that seemed so solid and so important to my well-being; suddenly vanished. Graduating from Oberlin, breaking up with Amina, distancing from Diem, Vikki, Luyen and everyone else. But Amina is different from Rebecca. Rebecca didn't do anything but remain inaccessible. I never hated Rebecca and slowly she just became nothing.

It has been hard living with this hate towards Amina. It has been hard living with the hate I have towards the 'rents, but that has been a competitive hate, something necessary for me to be who I am and keep going. I trusted Amina. I never trusted the 'rents. They have always been the enemy. Amina was completely different. Amina was a betrayal. Ironically, the 'rents could never betray me.

It's moot whether this situation is analogous to 1985 or 1987. If this is a cycle repeating itself, no thanks, I have no desire to go through it again. If nothing redeeming happens soon, I'm leaving. The 'rents called and it's getting critical that they get out of my life.

I let a lot of things out to Joy last night. I can't say it felt good. More like a relief. At least she has a better idea where she stands in my life. She has a warning. If she ignores it and remains blind, then it's her fault and it shows how dysfunctional we really are.

I told her that since graduating, I've completely lost the friends who comprised my support group and that I have none now. I tried to imply that I derive no support from her and she is not a source of emotional, moral, or mental support. I don't think it's unreasonable for her to have gotten that. The spark is really gone, nothing really happens between us. It was bound to happen.

247 19th Ave, #2, San Francisco

Today was the last day of classes for this Fall 1994 semester. How am I doing? Angry and frustrated as ever. More angry. A low-key, subtle, seething anger. That's what I felt as I walked away from school to catch the first 1AX bus of the commute hours.

I called to check in for a catering job I have on Saturday, I paid my rent, finished off one bottle of whisky and bought another, received a utility bill twice what I usually pay because I've been using the heater a lot. I bought a plane ticket to go to New Jersey at the end of December.

For the first time in a while I felt genuinely close to Joy. Like there was something connecting, something worth placing worth in. Not that it's a worthless relationship, per se, it's just that it's a very low-key relationship with not a lot of risk, not a lot of challenge, not a lot of change.

It wasn't overwhelming. She told me of a problem she's having, how she's not satisfied with her life, that it's out of control in a downward spiral. I don't know why, but it was a relief to hear that she was in that position. To hear that she isn't so impenetrable and sequestered in her superiority. To hear her vulnerable and that she isn't complacent about her life. She is striving for something and so maybe her happiness in our relationship isn't some complacent abandon and satisfaction in what I consider the severely mediocre.

On the other hand, she went through the peak of the crisis yesterday. She didn't mention it at all when we spoke yesterday. She said that she wasn't ready to deal with it then, she was still in shock of it and couldn't talk about it then. OK. She brought it up today and told me about it, but only after she talked to her parents about it.

There is a lack of passion in this relationship. It's very cold and calculated. It is complacent. It doesn't bother me. I'm kind of numb to it. It probably doesn't bother her that she couldn't come to me about the problem. That says a lot about the relationship.

I realize I can’t get sucked into her problems because my position in my life is still so fragile. I don’t know if I could have effectively dealt with her problems even if she had brought them to me. So it’s best that I keep a distance. If that’s a problem for her, then it’s her problem, not mine. Eventually this relationship won’t be able to go on if this philosophy is maintained. She will need more from someone than I can give, and she will realize how unsatisfying it is being with someone so different and who makes such completely different assumptions about life and living. So will I.

247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco

I want to blow my brains out.

Kurt Cobain's suicide awakened something in me that has never went away.

This isn't life, this is not all that there is, and I'm sick of it. I want to get to whatever's next, move on instead of slogging around in this illusion. None of this is real, nothing I get from my senses is real and not a single thought that goes through my mind is real. No one is real. If I kill myself and come back not having the knowledge I have now, at least I won't be tortured by this minimal knowledge.

I will know all of nothing rather than a little of an overwhelming lot, blissful in my ignorance, normal and happy to just make money and raise a family. I will suffer as a sentient, but at least I can be blissful. And if it's time for me to get to the next level, the sooner the better. Listen to myself: if I kill myself and come back. What am I talking about, there is no self to kill.

It would be so easy to die. It would be so easy to live. It would be so hard to die. It would be so hard to live.

Kurt Cobain's suicide, for some reason, is real. I don't know why. I want to scream. I want to break out of this. I want to let go. I want to remember everything. I can't go on denying things in my past. I hate my parents, I want to rip their throats out with my bare hands for all they don't know and all they don't realize.

I want to admit all the things I've done wrong and all my faults. I want to face humiliation and be embarrassed to death. I don't want to hide anymore. I want the truth to come out and to show and face the truth. I want the wall torn down and all my anomalies and contradictions exposed. And only by becoming public can I make those things not mine, not me.

Was there anything enlightened about Kurt Cobain? Anything spiritual? He had such an impact on so many people. But he also had no impact on so many people. How to look at it? He was just a pop star? He wrote brilliant songs, he was honest to himself. He was true to his nature and lived what he was and what he wrote. What he wrote was what he was.

What bullshit text states that enlightenment means you’re happy and blissful? What idiot says that being one with the universe means you smile and walk on flowers, yogi painted priest dog asshole. White people sure eat that shit up.

I hate Amina. I hate Amina with every morsel in me. I hate her as much as I hate the 'rents. I hate the thought of her and the thought of her makes me sick. I regret not having the chance to make her burn.

The funny thing is that I was never into Nirvana. Whatever I heard on the radio was really good, but their popularity was a flag to me that they were just a passing trend. My natural reaction is to stay away from trends until the hoopla dies down, and only then can I find out what substance is really there. But something about Cobain killing himself made it real, made it sincere.

Day fifteen

How cold and cruel she was. Merciless. It doesn't make any sense. Maybe that's why I think this is just a phase and that we'll get back together again. It is so unlike her that maybe it is all a result of her current situation and circumstance. If she does come back . . . She is my analogy to God. Rumi:

Listen to the reed-flute, as it tells its story
As it complains of separations:

Ever since they tore me from the reed-bed
Man and woman have wailed at my cry

I want a heart torn, rent by separation
So that I can set up the pain of love’s longing;

Whoever has remained far from their source
Seeks to return to the day of their reunion

My secret isn’t far from my wailing
But that is not a light for eyes and ears

Soul and body, body and soul, aren’t veiled from one another
Yet no one can see the soul

The sound of the reed is fire, not wind
Whoever lacks this fire is nothing

The fire is love that has fallen in the reed
It is the bubbling of Love that’s fallen in the wine

I can't believe that any of what we went through was real. I don't believe we even existed. The things she said, her hypocrisy. Letting her back? Let what back? None of it was real. So selfish, so self-interested. It overwhelms me that she was able to get so close to me. Lies filtered through teeth. She didn't care enough to even try to protect my trust, she didn't even try to leave me with a good image of her, that there was a higher reason for what she was doing. She did it all for herself and that is all she presented it as being.

But I don't believe it, I don't think this is permanent and it will only be a matter of time before we get back together and work this through. Very slowly. I just need to put on my waiting shoes and wait. And when she comes back I won't have my defenses up, she won't have to prove or justify anything. If she comes back, her coming back is all the proof I need for anything.

Analogy to God? But she's only an analogy, the love is mine.

1844 7th Ave., Oakland

I called Amina this evening. It was about 1:30 in Ohio. I woke her up. She sounded tired. I told her I’d let her go back to sleep. She said she’d call me tomorrow. We’ve talked once in almost two weeks, and that was a lame conversation that we cut short.

I got angry, but why? I don’t want to be angry over petty things. I guess I do want to be actively wanted, I want someone coming after me, and I’m not getting that from Amina. So what? Forget Amina? She has too much of her own life to give me enough of what I need. I’m angry because I’m hurt, and I’m hurt because she’s supposed to be one thing and she is totally not. Great expectations.

I feel helpless and unwanted by her. I know it’s not true. I’m angry because I don’t have the maturity not to be. This is a weak point, a personality fault. I never developed the maturity to take love and accept it as it is given. I still want love and attention as a child demands love and attention.

Now I’m older and mature in other ways. I have more of a consciousness about my anger and I react to it with the means of someone my age. I feel anger, I feel hate, I want to break up with Amina, I want to get away, I want to drink, I want to die. Take the anger of a neglected child and put it in an adult and I am what you get.

1844 7th Ave., Oakland

I can’t do it. It’s not about stress, I just don’t have the type of aptitude or mindset to get me through the requirements of law school without suppressing essential elements of my personality.

I am going to withdraw after this semester. I won’t be attending law school next semester. I think I will still be able to feel good about myself, find a way to fill the days. I will take great satisfaction in knowing this is a manifestation of hatred towards the ‘rents. They are so fucked up and out of touch. It’s unbelievable.

I dream of the day I will drop out. Then I’ll tell the ‘rents. After Amina and I are together and have some idea what we can do. Find a place for the two of us. Find my way out of this grave I’ve dug for myself.

1844 7th Ave., Oakland

My anger grows with my disbelief that I’m in law school. The situation has been bleak. My hatred towards the ‘rents is hampered only by religious teachings which demand forgiveness. But as long as I’m a member of the earthly world, I hate them with every ounce of hate I can conjure.

It’s been a while since they’ve called. That’s a sure indication that something is going on in their minds. It could be cowardice or lack of concern. It’s something. Whatever it is, it makes me angry because I’m in this situation here because of and for them. If they make no gesture that there is something important about it, I have no motivation to stay. Hey, I made it out to California, what I decide now is all my decision and I have a right to it.

Not only do I not think in the way required to be an attorney, but I also hate the approach legal “thinking” is required to take: you start with your conclusion and then you do the research to come up with the argument to support that conclusion. It’s not truth, it’s not justice, it’s whoever can conjure the better argument by whatever means available.

I also find it offensive that to be an effective attorney, you have to thoroughly research and be able to argue the other side as if it were truth, and then reject it, dismiss it, rebut it for a client, for someone who is paying you to win. It makes absolutely no sense to me, it’s not logical, it destroys the credibility of the legal system. Truth is arbitrary in the legal system. It’s far from absolute.

I’ve started to feel that I’m not biding my time by going to law school, looking for other opportunities, I’m wasting my time. I look at the people in law school and these are people who have committed to a career in law. It’s what they want to do with their lives and they are putting their full effort into it. Not just floating through like I am. This has nothing to do with what I want to be doing with the rest of my life.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I may not make it to exams, I haven’t a clue about what’s going on or what I’m supposed to be learning. I can’t make the connections that everyone else seems to be able to make. So maybe I’ll drop out right before exams and start looking for a job immediately. When Amina comes, I’ll start bartending school and hope they place me in a job come January.

1844 7th Ave., Oakland

I hate living in the city. Dust, dirt, and grime everywhere. I hate feeling lonely. I hate the material world. I hate the world around me.

The ‘rents haven’t called much; you’d think that they’d be more interested in their investment. I wonder if the guilt is catching up to them. Yea, right. They have no idea, not a clue. When they did call, they asked about school and I gave them a frigid reaction. I didn’t tell them outright that I hated it, but I was evasive and tried to convey that I was not going to speak my true feelings on the matter. They didn’t press. They avoided the topic thereafter.

They know that my going to law school is for them. They don’t care about what I want to do or how I feel about what I’m doing. They don’t know anything about me. It would blow their minds if they had an inkling of what I was really about. I can’t even guess what their reaction might be to finding anything about me.

Avoiding the problem is the pattern for them. They don’t want to know so they hide their heads in the sand. They can’t face up to the truth. They can’t even find a simple way to be honest and make it sound good, “Life is hard, anything you do is hard, stay in law school or we stop sending you money”. Even that is better than glossing everything over and insisting that law school is really what I want to do, as if they know me and what I want to do.

1844 7th Ave., Oakland

I can’t believe I survived until September! What? Two weeks? Law school sucks, it’s hard as hell and requires a mindset that I’d rather not develop. I’m utterly and completely unmotivated and depressed. It’s antithetical to the person I want to be.

I have some good days, some bad. Some days are hard, other days harder. I’m mostly lonely and I feel displaced. My class schedule is hardest on Mondays and Wednesdays. By the end of the day, I walk out of classes in a daze and I have to decompress and recover. It makes me really hate the ‘rents. How much more can I possibly hate them?

I have some days that are really bad but I don’t realize how bad they are until halfway through and look back at it. Today was one of those days. It’s hard not to have bad days when all days depress me to some extent. What topped it off today was hitting an old lady’s car with my Rodeo. My car was undamaged, but I broke one of her rear lights.

It all came rushing at me: I hate living in this world. I hate material life. There are too many people, too many bad people. Too much liability, too many people at too many other peoples’ throats. Life and society is too complicated.

This isn’t the result of hitting that old lady’s car, don’t get me wrong. She came out of her car yelling up a storm, but she was immediately placated when I apologized and told her I would be more than happy to pay for the damage. She became very civil at that point and there was no conflict to resolve. But it’s sad that her first reaction was to be antagonistic and belligerent.

But my problem is that it could have been worse. I’ve never had to deal with responsibility and real life and living. I’ve never lived in the “real” world, I’ve always had things done for me. I could afford to be stuck in a mental hospital when other people have such worse problems than I do.

Until recently I’ve never had to deal with taxes, voting, insurance, credit, bank accounts, jobs. But this accident stirred things up - damages caused to other people, responsibility and liability, having to watch your every move so that you don’t accidentally step on someone’s toes and get sued for battery. Is that what real life is about? Is that how people want to live their lives?

I didn’t have to hit that old lady. I didn’t have to be there to hit that old lady. I didn’t have to have been in my car today. I could have stopped at some other supermarket, I didn’t have to try to get around her because she was driving like . . . an old lady. It was so arbitrary.

324 S. Main St., Oberlin

I have absolutely zero enthusiasm about going to California in August. It hasn’t struck me at all that I’m going to be back in school this Fall. I don’t feel that at all. But once I get to California, I can start looking for a band and doing music steadily. I couldn’t do it in suburbia New Jersey and there certainly isn’t anything going on out here in rural Ohio.

I have to remember that law school is just a front, a safety net until I find something else. If I find nothing else, then after three years, I’ll have another degree and can still kick the fuckheads good-bye. Their continuous and consistent lying, coercion, bribing, and manipulating has been the de-humanizing and demeaning low point of my life.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Well, I’ve got my car. $20,000 for an Isuzu Rodeo and I’ll be putting a CD changer in soonly. With these great expenses, I’ve been mellowing out and I’ve even started feeling guilty. I looked into the future and imagined the feelings of betrayal after spending so much money. Not only stabbed in the back, but having the back-stabbing planned from the start. They asked for it. It’s their fault for not having the foresight or the awareness of what they were putting me through. What goes around comes around.

I’m going to help Bob move from Providence to New Haven this weekend. We discussed the move and we planned it so that I would arrive in Providence between ten and eleven tomorrow. That means I would have to leave between seven and eight. A short while after getting off the phone, one of the fuckheads told me to go to sleep early tonight. How the fuck did he know what time I was planning to leave? I am so fucking out of here. What goes around comes around.

I hope they were listening in to the conversation. Then they caught the part where I was talking about having to buy stereo equipment for their stupid karaoke parties. I don’t give a fuck anymore if they were listening in, I’ve got my drums, I got my car, I’m getting the CD changer, I’m going to San Francisco for law school, and I’m spending the Summer in Oberlin with Amina. What are they going to do if they overhear my honest opinion of them? Fuck ‘em.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

One of the fuckheads saw an office on TV, just an office on a news story, and exclaimed, “Oh, I hope that you will have an office like that in a few years!” Perhaps anticipating a snide remark, which I was slow to formulate because I was getting over the affront of the comment, the other fuckhead interjected, “But not necessarily”. I’ve made it clear over and over again that I have no intention of going into the field of law or taking the bar. They’re response has been a uniform, “That’s OK, just get a law degree, you can do what you want after that”.

Idiots. Do they think I don’t know what’s going on? After three years they’re going to start up again about taking the bar, and the fuckhead’s comment, and the other fuckhead’s attempt to cover it up, proves it. It’s so clear to me that I don’t need to wonder about it. I’ll jump off that bridge when I get to it.

They’re already assuming I’m coming back to the East Coast after law school. California is way out of their sphere of influence. Sooner or later, I disappear from their paltry, pitiful lives. There is no way in hell they can make me come back here.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

The fuckheads have grudgingly accepted that if they want me in law school, they’d better accept my choice of which school. I’m still pressing them for the car. In fact, I mentioned the car right in the midst of them attempting to make me feel guilty about giving up an $18,000 scholarship. I smugly made clear that it wasn’t my money.

They’ve clearly betrayed their “money is love” mantra. That’s too bad after all the time and effort I spent shooting holes in the idea. It’s much simpler than I’ve made it all out to be. “Money as love” was just a means to disguise their self-interest. Who would expect me to accept money as a surrogate for emotions and interactions parents are supposed to have with their off-spring? Although it’s true that there are plenty of families which have neither.

But since this isn’t another family, I’m on the warpath to spend their money, and spend their money I will. Tomorrow I go look for a car. I’m looking at Nissan Pathfinders, the most expensive of its type. I need something that can haul music equipment around. I think I need a CD changer, too.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Almost every time I’ve really needed Amina, I wasn’t able to get in touch with her. Coincidence?

Maybe it has always been for the better, I don’t think I want to expose Amina to this side of me, especially this time. Things went a little far this time and I cut up my legs pretty bad and slugged down a whole glass of vodka. Putting gashes in my legs stopped working when it got to the point that it wasn’t doing anything except making me more angry. It wasn’t relieving anything. One cut probably could use stitches, but doesn’t need it. I don’t mind it scarring in a nasty way. I want to remember this weekend far into the future.

I wasn’t home when the mail came. When I got home, I saw the large envelope from DePaul University and I could see that the envelope had been opened and an attempt had been made to make it look like it hadn’t been opened. One of the fuckheads was in the house. At first I thought it was the fuckhead who opened it, but decided to withhold judgment until I got more facts. I didn’t care what DePaul had to say since I had already gotten into Golden Gate University and intended to go there. I peeked in the envelope, saw that I was accepted and left it.

Later in the day, the fuckhead told me to go pick up the other fuckhead from the office. When I picked him up, he mentioned something about a scholarship. I didn’t know anything about it. Apparently DePaul offered a scholarship for $18,000. That confirmed without a shadow of doubt that the bitch had opened my mail and gone through the contents.

The violation was staggering. I silently fumed. The irony is that the reason I wasn’t at the house to intercept the mail was that I was out gleefully spending their money on the electronic drumset that was my right after I told them I got into Golden Gate. Was it worth it? No fucking way.

It gets worse. A little later, the bitch comes traipsing to my room feigning exuberance that she “just heard” that I got a scholarship. Maybe she thought I had read the acceptance letter and had told the other fuckhead when I was driving him home and then he told her. I was in no mood for her bullshit and called her on it, asking what she was talking about, she already had opened it and read the letter.

Her years of practiced lying obviously paid off, she didn’t miss a beat. She instantly processed that she had just been nailed and continued to spin it, saying that she looked at it but didn’t read the details. Funny, I didn’t see anything about a scholarship, that information must have come from somewhere. Her English must be much better than I thought to be able to just look at a letter and get such detail out of it. Fuckhead.

To make matters even worse, they then try to pressure me to go to DePaul. FUCK YOU!! What the hell. It was no problem for me to hold my line, I didn’t care about anything they said, I was going to San Francisco to get the fuck far away from them as possible.

They left for some party and I just lost it. I wanted to burn. I tried to call Amina, but fortunately to no avail. So I hacked away. This law school bullshit is getting out of hand. It has only gotten this far because I’m financially dependent and don’t have the means or ability to just leave and make it on my own. I have no idea how to look for a job, I have no resume, I have no experience. Every time I told them I wanted to get a job, they forked over more money and told me to study more. Which I never did anyway. I wouldn’t put it past them that they planned it this way so that they could have more control over the options and opportunities I have.

The fuckheads. They were ecstatic that I had gotten into Golden Gate, they had considered their mission as parents accomplished. They didn’t care where I went, they didn’t care how bad of a school I went to. Suddenly put $18,000 into the picture and it’s a whole new front, another battle. They’re so full of shit. They didn’t push law school for my benefit and future, they manipulated it because it gains them satisfaction and status; so that they can tell their friends that they have two doctors and a lawyer. It’s a game of cards to them. They’re not pushing for me to go to Chicago because of the money, they don’t need it, they said that the $18,000 they’re saving would go into my bank account. They want Chicago because they want me closer within their sphere of influence. No fucking way.

A car, the drumset, spending the Summer in Oberlin, none of the money is worth it. The money doesn’t have the value that the fuckheads think they do. I don’t need any of the stuff, and in a different situation I certainly wouldn’t even ask for any of it.

Not that if the fuckheads put more emphasis and effort into family and less in money, everything would be coming up roses. Problems and conflicts are a way that families learn and grow and build a relationship. But there has to be learning and growing by both parties. There has to be an emotional investment. The fuckheads learn nothing and are complacent as they are and invest only money. I am not interested.

Even with problems and conflicts, a family that invests emotionally is functional and there is always hope for reconciliation. There is no hope in this family because there is no groundwork, there is no foundation on which to build anything. There is only resentment, hatred, and distrust. There is nothing to reconcile, it has all been about business and economics. Money.

If things were different, I would be a vastly different person. I am a direct product of their upbringing, not a passive victim of their negligence. I won’t say everything is perfect as they are since I don’t very much care for who I am and would prefer not to exist as I am, but as long as I’m here, I can accept that whatever happens to me in the future is pretty much a direct result of the upbringing they had to offer. Anything I do is explainable as a result of what they’ve sown. My future is a natural progression from the kind of upbringing they’ve given.

So I gain materially through all this. I’m making out like a bandit and making sure they come through with everything they now owe me. It makes no difference that they are unsatisfied after they intercepted the DePaul letter. That’s their own fault. The agreement was that I go to law school, not where I go. If they feel they’re losing out because they’re not getting exactly what they want, that’s their own fault for not getting this in writing.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I’ve started dabbling in martial arts again and I’ve re-discovered what a source of spiritual energy they are. I remember back at Oberlin how after sessions I would feel like I was just floating on air. They just put me in a completely different space. But that feeling must be understood in congruence with the Lotus Sutra. Even though I wasn't reading the Lotus Sutra back at Oberlin as intently as I am now, I remember the feeling and I have to bring it back to the Lotus Sutra.

So many of the things that are now so identified with Buddhism like Zen, meditation, and martial arts have become divorced from the original religious context. They can't have meaning unless they are brought back to an understanding of Buddhism as a religion, the doctrines as revelation, that which has been revealed. Not just insight, that which is within, but revelation, that from without. And the realization that it is all one and the same thing. What modern Western culture identifies as Buddhism is mostly bastardization. It's so shallow, it goes against the grain of Buddhism by needing to identify and pigeon-hole the symbols and the cultural context.

I don't know what I'm saying, there is just something so wrong about the way modern Western society views Buddhism. These are just thoughts and I wouldn't argue for them or try to convince anyone else of them. I have nothing to contribute to rectify what I criticize. I can't even communicate it. Bottom-line: what the hell do I know about anyone else's views and opinions and perceptions.

This past week has been pretty good. Only one minor fight with the 'rents. How do I convey how much I hate them, how do they instill in me such a complete disregard for my own life. They suck meaning out of life. How can they be so clueless and still have developed their manipulative technique to such a high level? Everything they do feels like tentacles winding their grip into my nerves and bones, climbing up my spine. They are like cancer, incessant and invading, and the only way to cure it is to cut them out. Or I can bombard them with radiation. Whichever works.

At the same time, I feel that they have no substance, no reality to me. They have their effect, but they themselves are insubstantial. No real significance, only a superficial impact, nothing that touches my core being. Even though it is a core being they helped shape.

I keep control over my spirit and my well-being. I have control over my body. Cutting reminds me that I do with it as I please and they can't do anything about it. Cutting gets me through the brief, intense flashes of hatred and helplessness and reaffirms my control. It is shallow empowerment, seemingly self-defeating, but it does the job.

I've told Amina about the cutting. It felt good, but it also helps that she doesn't sympathize. I've always dreaded people finding out and feeling sympathy or trying to feel the pain for themselves and not knowing what to do with it. Amina keeps her distance and doesn't have that natural reaction of sympathy. I appreciate that in her. But what does she do with the information?