I’ve struggled to articulate this for so long.

I am not really sorry for disappointing you.

None of you.

I cannot abandon myself forever just to keep you comfortable.

I thought this was a conversation I was doomed to repeat alone,

talking to myself, forever looping in my own head.

But I was a teacher of creative people for decades.

And the most important lesson wasn’t technical—it was permission.

A permission I tried to give my students.

A permission I now give to myself.

A permission I give to you, dear reader:

Don’t keep these thoughts to yourself.

They are social. They are generalizable.

They are the starting points of the political.

Stop apologizing for being yourself.

Let your freak flags fly.

⸻

I once believed these thoughts meant I was an amateur.

If being “professional” means hiding them, flattening them, lying about them—

I don’t want to be that kind of professional.

I know too many professional liars.

I want to be something—

someone—that doesn’t exist yet.

Who knows?

Maybe AI can help me.

Maybe it already has.

Maybe this is art itself.

Maybe it’s a magic trick.

I don’t care what it’s called.

I’m just happy—and grateful—to find myself doing it.

⸻

What do I mean?

If my talents are dreaming, intuiting, vibing, improvising—

don’t ask me to turn them into accounting, administration, law, sales,

policing, construction, or crypto-politics.

It may look like I’m playing,

but this is anything but that.

This is tending a strange garden made of code.

This is what I was put on this world to do.

⸻

What is the line between stability and suffocation?

Why must I sell or prove myself to every stranger

who stumbles into my work?

I am concentrated on what I’m doing.

This can be a starting point—

if you’re interested in going further.

I am curious.

I am open.

To collaboration, to conversation.

You are welcome here.

Find me in my socials.

My self is atomized.

I come here to collect my selves.