We left on December 29th in the laziest possible fashion — packed early, then spent the rest of the day horizontal on the couch with Dyami and Tosh, TV going, burning through the last of the ketamine and keeping the klonopin close. Freddie showed up exhausted and unannounced and drove us to the airport anyway, because that’s just what Freddie does.
December 30th was technically a day that happened, but the airplane ate it. I slept on a poor unsuspecting Asian woman the whole way. The klonopin worked beautifully.
We landed in Hanoi on New Year’s Eve and immediately bought vapes, obviously. That night we had the kind of dinner that makes you feel like the trip was already worth it — a fish hot pot situation, fresh herbs we absolutely should not have eaten raw, chicken pho, summer rolls we learned to make ourselves, and somewhere in the middle of all that, Negronis and margaritas, because why not. We ate everything. Our digestive tracts held firm.
Then we went to Beer Alley and had a shitload of Hendricks and soju, which felt appropriately unhinged for New Year’s Eve. There was a server named Han who may or may not have been flirting with me — the jury is still out — and then the crowd got big and loud and honestly a little scary, so we retreated to the hotel by 10 and slept straight through the fireworks like the cosmopolitan adventurers we are.
New Year’s Day breakfast was surprisingly decent. Tried the local guava. Had pho. Recovered.
The city was full of flowers — we walked around the lake and the temple, and somewhere along the way a group of young Vietnamese people materialized and asked to take photos with us. They wanted us to cross our arms and flex. We obliged. Later, at the train alley, we drank three liters of beer between us and got pulled into increasingly unhinged selfies with a Chinese tourist. A Vietnamese driver picked us up, found out we were American, and delivered the best pitch I’ve ever heard: “We used to be at war, but — “ “Now that’s all over!” I said. “Yes,” he said. “So hire me to be your tour guide for the day.” Didn’t hire him. Still think about it.
We ended the night eating weird stuff from 7/11.
January 2nd we took a limousine to Ha Long Bay, stopping first at a pearl factory that turned out to be a sales labyrinth you had to escape like a video game level. On the boat, we met the full cast: a Polish couple, an Indian couple, a waiter who was probably gay and very sweetly worked his way from “brothers?” to “friends?” to “father and son?” — at which point I said, “Wait, which one is the dad?” and he tee-heed and fled. A French couple made homophobia faces at Tosh. The Polish guy talked about POW camps at dinner. The wife had fuchsia, bejeweled nails like a drag queen’s talons and I couldn’t stop looking at them.
We saw monkeys from a wooden boat we nearly capsized. A rose was left on our cabin door. I gave Tosh a fraudulent and violent AI-generated monkey encounter, for good measure.
Jellyfish salad. Sea bass. No fresh pepper, which felt like a personal affront.
The next day we biked to a small village that was inexplicably blasting techno music — including, at one point, the Vengaboys’ We Like to Party, which is a detail I will carry with me until I die. Before the bike, we stopped and let tiny fish eat the dead skin off our feet. None of the other adults on the tour tried it. Their loss. It was ticklish and wonderful and I would do it again immediately.
Later: kayaking, a floating restaurant, some angry South Asian tourists shouting at each other, and then a long peaceful stretch on deck reading while goats bleated and played on a nearby island and the sun broke through the clouds and turned the water into something almost embarrassingly beautiful.
Happy hour martinis. The girl behind the bar learned our order after one round and just smiled knowingly when she saw me coming. We got coerced into making fried spring rolls with the crew. They asked if we’d tried dog meat and said that we really should. This conversation happened while Love Story by Taylor Swift played in the background. I don’t know what to do with that.
January 4th, Trump started a war with Venezuela. Tosh and Dyami were worried. I had pho for breakfast and tried to hold it together.
We went on an excursion with our guide Mei, who was wonderful — full of cultural exchange conversations, patient with our questions, willing to discuss everything from Tiger moms to the jar of preserved monkey and deer we found somewhere along the way. At the fish market, everyone went crazy over our nose rings. Mei later told us they thought the rings were real gold and that we were wealthy. We were not.
Tosh swam in the bay while Mei and I talked about freedom and family expectations. On the way back, I mentioned the dog meat thing. She looked surprised. “Who told you that??” We all laughed. I told her I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble.
Tosh paid $57 — one and a half million Vietnamese dong — to a lady selling snacks from a boat drifting between the ships. Mei said they call those boats “7/11.” We ate the chips on the bus back to Hanoi.
The hotel staff all remembered us and asked about our cruise. We ate bánh mì in the park. A group of Vietnamese students asked if we were twins, Tosh said yes, and they completely lost their minds. He had to take the selfie himself because their arms were too short.
The sky bar bartender welcomed us back and made excellent martinis. The water puppet show was semi-memorable but the real entertainment was watching the live musicians performing to the side, slightly ignored by everyone. We ate duck at a local place that tasted exactly like pork, navigated a toilet that required passing through what I can only describe as a Narnia-style labyrinth of hallways and stairwells, and found a dirty waterpik on the shelf next to the shower. Ten out of ten.
Went back to the hotel, but I was buzzing. Went back out to Beer Street. A server girl asked if we were a couple and I said yes. Tosh said we were twins. She giggled with absolute glee.
Last morning in Hanoi. I had a dream about kittens with magnetic noses that could melt glass, and about Tosh being mean to me. The hotel hostess asked about the fruit and welcome message they’d left in our room and wished us a happy return home. The bellman complimented our beards. The taxi driver complimented our beards. The concierge came outside to say goodbye, gave us a small gift, and — while I was in the bathroom — told Tosh we looked like Vikings. “We thought, wow. What a strong look.”
At the airport I had a minor panic spasm, vaped in a smoking lounge that smelled terrible, found a restaurant, ate a bánh mì, drank some gin, drank a liter of beer. An Indian guy from Mumbai in another smoking lounge asked if we were twins. I said yes. He complimented our beards.
Cambodia was easy. The driver was nice but neither of us had much to say. Tosh was in a bad mood; I was just tired and spent the ride learning the history of Cambodia from Gemini. Cocktails across the street for $2.50. Dinner for four people and cocktails for three came to $25. The streets were full of people offering us prostitutes and beer and cab rides. We walked around scouting the night markets. The AC situation at the villa was precarious — our host asked us to only run it for ten minutes at a time — and I was deeply, privately worried about my sanity over the next several days. The pool looked like a good friend.
Angkor Wat day started at 4am. Our guide was the sweetest man, full of history and personal stories about his family and the country. We watched a small monkey chase down a cat, hump it, and then groom its fur, which is a sentence I never expected to write. He dropped us in hammocks behind the lunch restaurant to nap. Monkeys everywhere, mostly adorable, one of whom stole a woman’s purse, phone, and money before the situation was resolved. We watched the sunset from a hilltop surrounded by silly tourists and talked an impressive amount of nonsense to pass the time.
The next day I did a quarter tab of acid and went back for more exploration. More peaceful, more beautiful. Dyami’s digestion staged a revolt and he rickshawed home early. We walked more, took our own rickshaw back, came home and drank a bit too much in the pool, a bit too much at the dinner show, and then more at the gay bars on pub street, which were simultaneously a little crazy and a little sad and very local. Someone had written extensive things about God and about a person named Adam on a wall. We came home wobbly and had a dark conversation about the future of humanity. I don’t remember how it ended.
Khao Lak was where things got slower and harder and also, eventually, better.
I woke up the first morning overwhelmed and couldn’t shake the feeling that I was seeing places for the last time — that I was somehow viewing this whole trip through a lens of finality I didn’t want and couldn’t quite explain. Tosh took me for a walk. I talked it out. We went to the beach and I slept for hours on a chaise and let the sun do what it does.
Acid on the beach one afternoon cracked things open in the right direction. The ocean was enormous and beautiful and didn’t care about anything I was worried about, which helped.
The elephant sanctuary was a whole day of gentle magic. The resort bar was peaceful and easy and Tosh sat with me through some feelings I was having trouble naming. A waiter at dinner tried to teach us to make fancy napkin origami and Freddie turned out to be the most gifted among us.
I cancelled a big excursion to keep Eyan company and lost $450 without minding too much. Some things aren’t really about the money.
The dive cruise: I was nervous. It turned out to be wonderful.
Gerben was our divemaster — calm, experienced, had worked with a lot of American celebrities, which he mentioned with appropriate casualness. I went down eight times in total. Tosh seven. First dive: no issues, no wetsuit needed, comfortable in the water immediately. Second dive: deep, part of the advanced certification, also fine. Third: my ears started blocking. I dropped a flashlight on the sunset dive and someone named Ethan retrieved it from the seafloor. I offered him ice cream and beer. He accepted neither.
On the morning Tosh’s sinuses gave out and he stayed above water, Gerben and I dove alone and a white-tip shark appeared and reappeared several times and gave us an actual show. I didn’t panic. I just watched. It was one of those quiet moments where everything feels exactly right.
Packing up to leave, I found my nicotine gum in my bag and realized I hadn’t thought about vaping in days. How long had it been? Long enough, apparently.
The speedboat home. Eight dives for me, seven for Tosh, and something that felt distinctly like accomplishment — the tired kind, the good kind. I was excited to sleep in my own bed, excited for a private bathroom, excited, honestly, for a bidet. The wheel on my suitcase broke during the shuttle situation. I overheated a little and acted a little crazy. Cooled down fast enough. Vodka and a meal at a Thai restaurant with friendly, possibly flirty male waiters who asked if we were brothers. Tosh said yes. I said yes, but his beard is grayer from stress.
Bangkok was brief and good. Easy flight, tiny streets, wagyu and salmon and salmon roe for dinner. Tosh went to look at temples alone. I went to 7/11 and bought booze and took a nap, which feels like a fair division of tourist activity. We got drunk and went to the night market to find bugs to eat. The bugs were okay.
We stayed up almost all night, showered at 5am, and got in a car with a driver who seemed to be nodding off at the wheel. We made it. The flight was long. Half a klonopin and some sleeping pills. Fourteen hours. I slept for maybe eight of them.
Vancouver. American security: annoying, slow, both stupid and overcomplicated. Everything in the Bay Area is too expensive again. I took BART to Balboa Park and a Waymo the rest of the way home, feeling irrationally grumpy that Dyami hadn’t come to get me — even though I hadn’t asked him to.
Got home. Cuddled the cats. Talked to Dyami. He understood the grumpy.
I found all my old almost-empty vapes and put them in a bag for the trash. Took one final puff off one of them and nearly fell over. My tolerance was gone. The part of me that wanted to keep going was there, but quiet. I listened to the quiet part.
All is well.
You really can keep worrying less. Worry is worthless.
I was thinking for some reason recently about my felonious childhood. The statute of limitations has long since passed but it’s been so long that I rarely think of it anymore.
My mom was always an unapologetic media pirate. She’d rent videos and copy them to blank VHS tapes. She’d record stuff from HBO onto tapes. She’d copy Disney movies back before they sold them direct to consumer, and edit out the parts that scared me. (I don’t even remember exactly which ones. Some scene of the wicked stepmother from Snow White was replaced with VHF static. Some longer ones didn’t even have endings since the blank VHS tapes weren’t long enough. Does Bambi even have an actual ending?)
One of our first IBM PC’s came with a huge hard drive for the time. 100MB maybe. DOS partitions at the time could only be a certain maximum size- maybe 25MB or something like that, which I only remember because the guy who built us the computer loaded every partition up with a full library of pirated and freeware games and programs. It was an endless treasure trove starting from the D partition all the way up to H?
She ended up hiring the same guy to work at their small business at the time, and got him to teach me about the computer as part of his work in the office. He taught me the basics of BASIC. He taught me how to use the modem and dial up BBS’s, and the library at the time had a regularly printed list of local BBSs to dial into.
It was a wild time and I dug for anything fun or interesting that I could find. I found one BBS with a huge text library of conspiracy theories and X-Files level stories of alien encounters, top secret high technology experiments, details of cryptids of all sort.
But the real crazy stuff started when I found the warez BBSs and the sketchy stuff. By the time AOL was becoming widespread and started connecting to the internet, I found a program called AOHell. It was simple and did one thing.. generate valid but fake credit card numbers, along with plausible but random names and billing addresses to use to create fake accounts.
It’s crazy what you could get away with for a while there. Their dialup system didn’t support call tracing or caller ID yet. Their billing system didn’t verify payment information in realtime. So depending on when you created a fake account, you could rack up a ton of service time before they shut it down a few days later. And then you could just make another one and repeat it again and again.
I found IRC. I chatted with locals, distant strangers. I used some of the first VoiP apps to talk with people in Europe just to say hello, like it was a magical ham radio. Which it kind of was. The internet was still mainly populated with nerds. Smart people. The perverts were already there but they were nerdy and smart, too.
All of this was by the age of 14. There are a lot of reasons why I feel like a millennial, but I think that’s a big one. I may be a xenial but I’ve been chronically online for the majority of my conscious life, even if it was primitive at the start.
Dear Adam of 1986,
You’re so fun, and creative, and brave. Do you know what brave means? It means you have courage. Courage is what lets you do stuff even when you’re afraid to.
Stuff is about to change. It’s okay that it’s scary. You’re braver than you can imagine. It’s okay if you need to hide sometimes.
Try not to worry about being afraid. I know it’s hard, and it’s okay when you worry. I promise- a real promise- that even though sometimes it’s hard, things are just going to get better and better for you.
People love you. Not every grownup does, and that’s not your fault. There will be lots of people for you to love who feel good to be around. Hang in there when you know they don’t feel good.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s boring.
When things change, I know it’s scary and it hurts. It’s hard to understand now but hurting is part of growing up. You’ll learn new things, feel new things, and it’s going to be awesome. I promise.
Life is really, really long.
Hang in there, buddy. You’re not alone. It’s gonna be okay.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 1996,
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re braver than you realize. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have sex when you want to. Don’t be ashamed.
Change hurts but you’re on the brink of some real breakthroughs. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Change is growth. Let it hurt. You’re about to level up fast again.
Arizona isn’t so bad. You won’t be there forever and it’s going to teach you a lot. (Spoilers.)
Your thoughts about your career, about your long-term future, are great. Mom and Dad gave you a lot of bad advice, but they gave you some good advice too- and some good examples, along with a lot of bad ones. You’ll learn to sift through them for the diamonds.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2006,
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re braver than you realize. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Keep working out, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of sex. Don’t be ashamed.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. I know you usually don’t have anyone to go places with you, but they’re coming- lots of them, sooner than you’ll realize. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
Try to keep some fear of the drink in you, but don’t be ashamed. When you decide to try mushrooms, I know you’ll be nervous, but don’t try them when you’re drunk at night. Pick a nice day in the morning and listen to upbeat music.
Change hurts but you’re on the brink of some real breakthroughs. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Change is growth. Let it hurt. You’re about to level up fast again.
You’re probably winding down on the blog. Try to keep journaling, try to hold onto those things. You’ll appreciate them as you write them and when you occasionally revisit them later.
Stay strong with work. I know it’s exhausting but the people you love there love you too. You’re doing some great things, and your life isn’t as empty as you tell yourself it is.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2016,
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re braver than you realize. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Keep working out, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Don’t be ashamed.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. I know you usually don’t have anyone to go places with you, but they’re coming- lots of them, sooner than you’ll realize. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
Try to keep some fear of the drink in you, but don’t be ashamed. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but you’re on the brink of some real breakthroughs. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Change is growth. Let it hurt. You’re about to level up fast again.
Stay strong with work. I know it’s exhausting but the people you love there love you too. You’re doing some great things, and your life isn’t as empty as you tell yourself it is. When it’s time to let it go, don’t be ashamed.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2026,
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re braver than you realize. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Keep working out, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Revel in it, celebrate it.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
Try to keep some fear of the drink in you, but don’t be ashamed. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but change is growth. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re still not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2036, (55)
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re brave. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Keep working out, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Revel in it, celebrate it.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
Maybe you’ve tamed some of the demons and aren’t using substances as much now, but don’t be ashamed if you still depend on them. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but change is growth. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re still not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2046, (65)
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re brave. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it now.. it’s more durable and resilient than you think it is.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Brush your teeth and floss, or soak your dentures, whatevs. I know it’s a pain in the ass. Keep working out, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Revel in it, celebrate it.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
Maybe you’ve tamed some of the demons and aren’t using substances as much now, but don’t be ashamed if you still depend on them. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but change is growth. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re still not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2056, (75)
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re brave. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it and embrace the wisdom you’ve worked hard for.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Soak those dentures and give some amazing gumjobs. Keep moving your body, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Revel in it, celebrate it.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
If you’re still alive, I bet you’ve tamed some more demons and aren’t using substances as much now, but don’t be ashamed if you still depend on them. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but change is growth. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re still not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2066, (85)
Everything is about to change. It’s okay to be scared. You’re brave. There’s wisdom already inside of you that’s going to lead you where you need to go, help you find the love and support and lessons and experiences that will keep moving you further into the light.
Try not to panic. Think about braving therapy again soon. Keep trying to learn about your body. Trust it and embrace the wisdom you’ve worked hard for.
There are good people in your life who love you, teach you, and grow with you. There are more waiting to love you, teach you, and grow together. They’re all over the place. Try your best and try your best to really forgive yourself when you feel like you’ve fucked everything up. Try to reach out to lost connections once in a while. Your friendship is not a burden.
Keep loving Star Trek and finding things like it that feel good. It’s going to be a touchstone for you for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
Soak those dentures and give some amazing gumjobs. Keep moving your body, and don’t forget to stretch. And think about your posture. Have a lot of really good sex. Revel in it, celebrate it.
Keep going to the doctor, keep going to the dentist. It’s okay if you need to force yourself, but don’t ignore it. Years pass quickly.
Keep traveling. Keep hosting house parties. Keep making new friends. Think about meditation, even if you need to pace around the house or go on walks and clear your mind.
If you’re still alive, I bet you’ve tamed some more demons and aren’t using substances as much now, but don’t be ashamed if you still depend on them. You’re about to lose a lot of things you knew weren’t going to last forever, but felt like maybe they would. Try to take the lessons and give yourself grace for hurting. Listen to your pain. Try not to withdraw.
Change hurts but change is growth. Trust yourself. Let yourself flip tables, make mistakes. You feel old but you’re still not. Remember Martha. Life is long.
Love you,
Adam 2026
Dear Adam of 2076, (95)
I hope we touched a lot of people, did more good than harm in our time here, and that someone remembers us. (But it’s alright if nobody does.)
Love you,
Adam 2026
Just took a cooking class here in PV, spent a few hours with a local guy shopping for stuff at a couple local markets, picking up fresh tortillas, then making a huge batch of mole poblano with chicken and rice. Spectacular stuff.
I was thinking about my occasional times cooking food to bring in to the office and share with coworkers. I had more than one person over the years express surprise that I knew how to cook, maybe since I was a programmer. I just told them that it’s still programming, just with ingredients.
In the process of setting this whole publishing process up, I’m reminded of the significant chunk of my career I spent learning about and building similar systems. Starting at the Arizona Republic, it was such a cool moment in time to be there for the transition from old media to new media. The innocent early days of social media when that term was new, and it felt joyful and optimistic.
It was probably the last gasp before Facebook and Twitter ate everything, before smart phones started disabling our attention spans, and before.. well.. before it got easy enough for the dumb-dumbs to join the party and start shitting all over it.
I’m writing a ton today, partially to run my system through its paces, and partially because I really missed this. Rambling into the ether, putting words to my abstract thoughts, and ending the process with something that feels both accomplished and somewhat tangible.
Just spent a couple of really nice hours on the beach, soaking up the sun, reading and basking in the ocean.
I’m reminded of the origins of my domain name that’s been around for eons. It hosted this blog once before in the long ago. I chose the name based on the book Aristoi which I read as a pretty young person.. maybe 15, 16 years old? I remember moving to Phoenix in 1997 and being so enamored with the central library, I’d take my sisters to play and explore books on their own while I scoured the sci-fi section for interesting new ideas.
It’s strange to trace back to roots and remember how many of those concepts really resonated with me and sunk in and shaped me. This one in particular is, so far, shockingly queer, and impressively, proudly humanistic despite being set in a far far fantastical future. The whole concept of deliberately enticing multiple sub-personalities to be somewhat self sufficient and relying on them to bring their own special perspectives and skills to an integrated existence. And the simple idea that these personalities don’t necessarily have to match in terms of attraction, interest, intellect, wisdom, or even gender.
I’ve sought a stronger self since then. I still seek integration in a sense, but I long ago abandoned the thought of “excising” these elements as demons. Some of my biggest gains in terms of trauma recovery and finding peace has been turning self-hatred for my parts into self-love and grace. I haven’t thought for a long time about the idea of engaging with them in an outright way to leverage them consciously.. it’s something I’m going to be doing some thinking about again, I think.
On our way out of SFO yesterday, we stopped to grab lunch and I ordered a fat beet ginger carrot juice smoothie. I always forget about beets.
Woke up groggy overnight to use the bathroom and was genuinely alarmed for a few minutes about what I’d possibly done to start leaking blood from every orifice.
I’m in Puerto Vallarta right now. We arrived this afternoon, but we booked it 6 weeks ago- well before the current cartel situation was even a consideration. We watched the situation as thoroughly as we could and decided to stick with our plans and I feel happy about that so far. It’s quiet here, more than usual, but still peaceful and lovely. We caught the sunset tonight after dinner.
It feels good to be away from the heart of the beast for a few weeks, even if the beast is still meddling here now. Peaceful beautiful people and culture, friendly faces everywhere, great food. Laying in bed in our apartment now listening to the cabaret next door winding down for the night. It feels good.
I’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow and while I’m here this time. My goal is to write, move my body, dance, and be present while keeping forward momentum on the important things back home. Tomorrow I set up my local rig, my traveling altar with some grounding rituals, and get out to the beach at some point with a book to read.
I had some rules for myself when I did this before. I made it a goal to write something- anything at all- at least one time per day. Even if I had to delay publishing for a day or two when I was offline.
Rule two, except in really exceptional circumstances, I don’t edit or delete anything after midnight the day I wrote it. No second thoughts, dwelling in the past, or softening things. Follow up, sure. Change, no. I forget how I felt about drafts.
I had somewhat more free time then but I still got busy at times. I think I can make some new version of this work. I didn’t know I had ADHD back then and it’s a factor to consider.
Otherwise, that was it. I’m inclined to start there and bring back my mainstays. Maybe some new rules about spilling private details about close friends and lovers without their consent. I need to consider.
It’s been a long, long time since I last blogged. It was a different time in a lot of ways, for both me, the Internet, and the world. It was a period of significant change.. I was in my early 20s so everything was already in turmoil to begin with. I’d just started to crack the surface of my psyche, just started to learn the depths of my suffering, just started to find the connections and tools and wisdom to know how I wanted to live.
I had a lot of the pieces in place, but a big one was embracing an authentic life. An honest life where I didn’t let the expectations of others, the imposed shame and rules of general society, and my internalized copies of those rules continue to hold me back. To make me afraid.
I probably took it too far at times. I know I used it as a passive communications technique, in some ways more toxic than others. I look back on those choices with grace and understanding.. I don’t think I was seeking malice. But I was definitely leveraging the blog as a way to say blunt things to people I couldn’t have even imagined approaching so directly at the time.
It’s something I still struggle with. Direct confrontation isn’t my strong suit, even though I’ve worked at it and learned a lot. I’m less overwhelmed by it than I used to be, I’m less reticent.
I miss those days. There was a thrilling danger to it. I was wildly careless about doing things that could have hurt my career, and I’m surprised it never bit me. I think part of that was just timing.. I was blogging before “social media” was a thing, we were just rolling our own tools and site templates and commenting platforms and raw dogging the internet with our honesty.
So, yeah, I miss that and I want to explore getting back to it. Most of us have accepted that Twitter is an unmitigated disaster now. Facebook is a shitshow. And they’re all sitting there collecting our data, ushering in a dystopia that we either failed to comprehend or still refuse to accept.
So yeah, let’s rock this. I don’t know if anyone out there is listening or wants to listen or cares, but that’s okay, just like it was before. If I can touch and connect with a few people here and there like I once did, that’ll be enough for me. And if I can access that unfiltered version of myself again, well.. huzzah.
