It has been a month and a half since last I wrote. The statistics for this site reveal that no one reads what I write. It is, and has been, a resource for documenting my view of this existence in which I was born the eleventh mouth to feed in a two-room apartment in India, moved at two to the United States of America, the youngest of a family of five that disintegrated.

And who then travelled alone for years and lived in Austin, Taiwan, Japan, India, Thailand, Washington D.C., and New Orleans before moving to San Francisco in 1993, to New York in ’97, and L.A. in 2002 – where I fathered a child and was a local radio personality – and back to Japan for all of 2005; India ’06 – ’07 and finally back to Oakland and the San Francisco Bay Area.

Ten years ago, I began to split my time between SF and San Antonio, Texas, where my father – undeniably a great American – wished to die.

Now, five years in the wake of his passing, I write to you from back home in my favorite city, San Francisco, where I am alone.

My eighth trip around the world was embarked upon from here in late 2022 when I spent significant time in Amsterdam and same in Bangkok in 2023.

It has taken me 40 years to free myself of the burdensome garbage I’ve had to participate in – just to be an American.

But now, I consider myself like Tolstoy after the wars,

or the young boys of the golden era of dutch painting, wealthy scions of colonists bringing everything from around the world back to Amsterdam. I’m financially stable, experienced, educated and have been writing and making art for 30 years.

I am widely disliked and in 55 years of being in the United States, I never made a friend. In the United States now, I am persona non grata for my beliefs first and my behavior in societal situations next. Most people who meet me have no interest in befriending me any more because I reject the society and maintain the uncompromised position that is a thread throughout my life and work. Being true to myself has “cost” me every relationship I ever made.

In a controlled way, and very aware of the audience, I still perform somewhat loudly in public space – coffeeshops, bars, alleys – as I have done for thirty years in the United States, expressing my truths … but now they tire of the “act,” that has been my existence here.

I continue to read in public as well, promoting the act of reading and general intellectual pursuits. I have been reading novels for decades and intend still to write a good one – let’s see.

To most, I am merely an immigrant they can either use or forget.

To me this separation was an inevitable eventuality to my methodology. It is not to be railed against, but to be rolled with and seized for the immense value it has. I have time, resources, abilities I need to let flower. Please support me or leave me alone, thanks.

love,

mtk