A is B and B is A. A is also A, as B is A also.

What are you afraid of?? God? Your idea of shame? Love? Standing still? Disagreeing? I think these are tricks they play on us. They want us to be afraid of something. We have to work hard all our lives to not be afraid of things, or overcome fears. its kind of stupid and a waste of time.

Why do I think the way I think? I was taught that i shouldn't think this way, or that way, because it was morally unclean, rude, etc etc. Don't do this when they are watching. Do we even have a natual self? I've forgotten, and I'm not so sure what my natual self is. Id like to beleive that your natual self is how you were at age 6. You can tell the world of a person from when they are 6.

Imagine if we grew up naturaly, in the sense that thoughts will exist natually without disruption from societal, parental, peer pressures, etc etc. What would happen/ Would people still be afraid to think and limit themselves? Maybe not, or maybe so.

I'll never knew.

Somedays I feel like my grip on reality is slipping, and i'm not so sure what is possible and impossible. It seems like everything is possible cuz of countless of examples. It all comes down to will and audacity. But because of this, I'm running around in circles.

I was listening to some Beijing rock at 2 in the morning comming through NPR, and I suddenly felt like music and art was so pointless in comparison to the big picture. Everything now a days seems so important and unimportant at the same time. I just don't know anymore. Economically developing countries always produce great music and art, things that are NEW. Here, we are somewhat stale, comfortable, lazy.

"A is the greatest band I know, cuz B sucks. " But then there's C, D, E, F, G bands developing all over the world that is probably just as good as A, better or worse than B. So in the end, who cares? They all exist and they all provoke the same bubble and pockets of energy that one might feel with band A. They are all great, to different people. as someone is always great to some one.. and someone will appreciate someone else, regardless of who they are.

It's so worthless. What really matters when nothing matters? Or what really matters when EVERYTHING matters?! WTF, see, my mind is jumbled and I hate thinking this way, cuz now it's just running around in circles.

Zen is also the best and worst place to be.

or maybe not.

I ran into some ghetto kids next to my building, and I walked by them while they made fun of the Chinese language. It is infuriating because there's no comprehensable undersatnding between them and I. There's a gap of communication there. The lack of understanding. In Brazil some time ago, they sent army troops into the ghettos and swipped out all the crack families to "rid the problem". Obviously, there's a human rights issue here. How can anyone help in this world of confusion? Help them, help waste time, or help yourself.. Help someone who won't help themselves, or help myself. I feel like being in America for too long will make you feel this way. Help yourself, and then help everyone else, but by the time you've help yourself, you've changed.

Will comes from money. without money, there's no will. without will theres no money. Theres not much to like about humans, and no matter how many languages we know, we are still living in a town of babble. if social classes were eliminated, and everyone had the same IQ, maybe we'd be closer to where we want to be. The worst way to be is to think the world is fair in some way, cuz it just runs on relations.

What happened on a sunday morning.

I've fallen off a cliff, and landed in a boat belonging to these frantic japanese people who was about to crash into the high rocks. I thought if this was the end, then this was the end, not much I could do but see the end. 

We crash through a billionaire's window and the boat turns in to some kind of Lexus SUV. I get off and I find myself in this beautiful garden mansion, with acres of green patches. There were goddamn hippies everywhere. Playing guitar and bass. 

This is when I realized my father and I were invited to attend a billionaire girl's birthday, and I was just making it on time. There were hundreds of black page note pads laying around, and you had to write into them with bright neon glitter pens. You had to write very nice things. Otherwise the servants will come and take you away. 

There were lots of servants around. We liked that because they'd bring us food and whatever we needed. I was changing clothes every minute, they kept on bringing me these jackets to wear.

Then I got a tour of the place from the grandfather, who was shamelessly trying to date me and was convinced that after the tour I will run away with him and break off my relationship with my boyfriend. I humored him in hopes I can take a look at the inner workings of this mansion.

The first room belonged to these two little girls and their servants. Everything was from a Pier 1 import catalogue. There were many towel holders made of oak and linens. There was a small bed in the corner of the room though the room was gigantic. You can fit three busses in there. When I opened the window and went on the roof top, three kitty cats greeted me. But i was told they worked for the family. Their predominant job was being cute, except for one older cat. She was smoking a cigarette and listening to jazz music, and thinking about life. I said something like "I didn't know cats could smoke." and the cat turned to me and said "oh yes, we do."

So we left the roof top, and proceeded to another large room with a balcony. I look out, and there are about 20 mangy people dressed in white clothing, being whipped or humiliated, I found it completely hilarious, though I realize this was some form of wrong.  Apparently they were taken out of the servant prison each day to be humiliated and beaten. Sometimes they'd run away, but for majority of times, it's just punishment that will never stop.

This seemed completely normal to me.

I was suddenly summoned back to the hippie quarters. There were more people here now. We were discussing film ideas and projects. One of the daughters of the mansion picked a piece of fried chicken off the ground, and ate it to shock everyone. I thought it was disgusting, and everyone clapped.

I made a guitar out of some strings and magnets. I was playing marvelously. I was hitting all the right cords. 

That was my morning.