In the year 2009, on 9/9/9, I went to Seattle to live a year in solitude, intending to return 9/9/10. I meditated on the number 29, and my mantra became: 9 needs 11 to get to 22. I also knew I was looking for an earth sign, the Prince of Disks because how close he was or far away was a way I gauged if I was on my path. Then came my earth prince, a 9 like me.  9.20 9:02, arriving as a 22. We named him 29.

Sometimes you look at numbers and you think, they’re just numbers. And sometimes you see them and you get a glimpse of the code in the fabric.

So mostly it’s been technical problems. And simply plugging in for a while. I met a psychic years and years ago who told me once I get plugged in, everything will start falling into place. But I didn’t know how. Everything was an echo around me. I was always searching, searching, but so fearful of the dark. So I never really felt connected. To something bigger than me. To something that would have me interacting with people like normal human beings.

I think the first sign that my blog and I would drift was when my 29 broke. That number is me. I heard that there are certain communities who know me as 29. It’s who I am and what I represent. Then I couldn’t post from my phone anymore. I couldn’t post my thoughts in the moment. I couldn’t sit in public places and have conversations with my blog and an infinite echo. Sometimes I think about the guy who helped me make this blog in the first place. He was a lot younger than me, having an affair with a woman a lot older than me. He told me things had ended even though they still saw each other at the gym. I thought he was a friend of my brother’s so I trusted him, found him charming. But then when I found out he still had something going on with her–in that I flew in to surprise him once because he said he was feeling sick, and he didn’t cancel a “hang out and watch a movie” night he’d planned with her, I knew that it wasn’t going to work out. And I remember he got so mad at ME, like I’d used him and betrayed him.

Anyway, there are times over the years when I think about my broken blog and wish I could just ask him to fix it, because this thing once was the most precious thing to me, but I always completely cut things off when I realize it’s not the right path. I never move backwards, only forwards. I just carry all the memories with me.

Like Christian from Naples from the cruise. To be honest that same psychic told me I’d pissed him off with my words and to leave him alone so I did. She was some lady I’d met at a party, I don’t know if she was psychic or a psychic, but considering she didn’t even know that I had a blog and said that Jerry and I would be friends for a very long time which was true, I just assumed she was right. I’m timid with reaching out to people to begin with. But sometimes I think about him, and want to tell him that a Virgo turned out to be the love of my life.

People who knew me from back in the day ask me, do you still write? Not really. I write different things now. Some are good, some are functional. Every once in a while I get inspiration, but I let it pass a lot. I think mostly I got talking so much to myself. And I realized I’m somehow a mental sprinter with incredible endurance, but I don’t have the focus for marathons. Writing every tree while showing the forest was difficult for me. But I also wonder if when I die, I will leave behind one single work. And that will be my life’s masterpiece.

A gemini always needs at least two of everything. Maybe my one will be my greatness.