For me it’s just time to enjoy life and make art. I faced my loss and anger and I’ve come to see that staying upset really just gets in the way of being happy. I did what I can. You can fight for it or you can say goodbye. And even if the meaning is there, if the opposite isn’t ready, you can’t make it connect. I figured out what the meaning is to me. And I suppose, I had to go through what I went through. It couldn’t have been any other way. My limitations and the conflicts and mistakes – they happened. There wasn’t someone to meet me halfway. And that can be the I’m not good enough idea or it could be they don’t really understand. I’m thinking, after we die – the story we tell ourselves is over. My stupid trip was a stupid trip to be meaningful like the heroes I found. I don’t even think the world looks at artists the same way. If I don’t mean what I think I mean – even to my friends, then I’m wasting a lot of my time worrying about it. Everyone has plenty of information. The thing really got sorted and I decided not to be a part of something I didn’t want to be a part of any more. I talked about what was wrong. Some people care and some people don’t. I’m not Asian. And if I have to be popular to have them care…we really aren’t friends. I just won’t come around. So that’s where I am. Making sure it matters. I’m leaving the West soon. It’s over. Wish I could have done more, honestly. Or what I was doing was just the wrong thing, or I’m just a fuckup and I don’t quite realize it. But to get someone’s attention, really – is pretty hard to do any more. Everyone’s going to work and it has to be really dialed in. Is that really art? People don’t have time for it, not most people. I guess I’m not done but I’m starting to feel peaceful about it. The war may go on inside others but it’s ending for me because I just don’t want to be so disappointed all the time.