After a short introduction and a prelude, the book begins one week after detoxing from heroin.

The full manuscript is a chronological timeline of thoughts, feelings, and ideas written as I pursue a path of sobriety, and eventually, artistry.

The entire book is a sequence of thoughts ordered from 3 1/2 years ago (May 5th, 2013) to today, (June 21st, 2016).

Along with the timeline is a narrative.

The book is drafted by two people:

The “me” that writes “today” and the “me” that is interpreting the story; applying meaning, value, and narration as the plot of my experience continues to evolve.

What started out as a goal to live free from the clutch of drugs and alcohol soon evolved into a pursuit of passion; a desire to see my dreams manifest around me.

I started playing music.

I performed on stage for the first time.

I found myself living a dream; recording an EP with my band in a multi-million dollar recording studio.

While I was in it, the dream died around me.

I lost my band and found myself alone, venting tire molds in a warehouse…

The idea to write a book came from seemingly nowhere, and consumed my life with fervent force.

A week later, I experienced a profound spiritual experience, a “peak experience” (as defined by Abraham Maslow)

That day in the warehouse, I was thrust into an infinite moment.

Time became an illusion and my eyes widened in wonder…

Everything was potent. Everything was vibrant. Everything was perfect.

I found myself fully intact, while my mind was lost in the immense beauty of a waking life.

Every morning, for months, I woke up feeling like I was dreaming.

I fell in love, and then, my heart was broken…

I began to experience a stagnant emotional debilitation, an ever-increasing never-ending cesspool of heartache.

I finally understood what the madness of love felt like, and, I began to battle a nemesis even more fearsome than a heroin detox.

Oxytocin.

Writing became my outlet. A reason to live. A purpose for the pain I experienced.

I spent months reeling in heartache and confusion, while my energy captured truth as I perceived it.

I wrote myself through pain, and eventually, I emerged from it…

The following excerpt is from three months ago, the lessons learned from heartache have long since passed, and I’ve found myself completely consumed by creativity…

Lost in my own manic sense of direction, my own insistence on maintaining a daily habit of writing…No matter what…

Evening Pages 3-20-2016

I feel really fucked up. Like, I don’t know what my purpose is, what meaning is, hell…I don’t know if what I want and what I imagine in my head has any basis in reality. I am starting to believe that the story I have developed for myself is not helping me anymore. Its making me feel isolated, stranded in my own sense of purpose, my own developed story of artistry and creativity…

It doesn’t seem to be helping that I feed myself stuff that inspires me, encourages me, on the path that I want to be on…

I am starting to think that my path might be wrong, that I may be feeding myself a bullshit story to validate my own self-developed alienation.

Sam came over tonight and I had him watch a film that I spent all afternoon producing. A film about the “Difficulty in Artistry”…a film featuring the music, and the videos of Radiohead…

While we were watching it in my garage I felt embarrassed. I didn’t feel any sense of pride, or accomplishment. I didn’t feel like there was any value in the work that I did today…In fact, if I’m being honest, it was almost forced. It wasn’t natural…

I just don’t know what I want to do anymore.

Like, during the week, I’m cool…

I have a purpose for being at work, and the imagination of my future encourages me to keep writing, keep working…
It just seems these past couple weeks I’ve been regularly getting hit with a wave of sadness, a wave of loneliness and lack of belief in myself for the ideas that I am trying to birth into the world.

I find myself contemplating if I am as special as my mind likes to pretend I am.

I doubt whether or not I have what it takes to be an artist…to be a person that can live off of my own creativity, passion, and energy. I am not even sure what form my creativity holds is best…I don’t even know if I have a public persona anymore. I am so wrapped up in my own presence on social media, or my website, or my podcast, or the development of U.I Minds Eye…

Hell.

I am completely wrapped in myself, and I allow it because I tell myself that I need to be. I need to be with me because I know me best. I know what I like, I know what I want, and I am unable to associate in the affairs of mortals, the affairs of those who aren’t as driven, or passionate as I am…

That story needs to fucking change. Its not helping me anymore. I have to stop pretending like I have a purpose, I have to stop believing in things that I have not experienced…

I have to do things because I love them…

FUCK.

I dont have to do shit.

I don’t know why this is turning into some sort of a cheering match for myself…

Sam told me to simply write out what I am going to do tomorrow to make a change…

First things first, I am going to fold my laundry and clean my room. I have got to get my physical surroundings in order, I am sure its having a part to play in my own discontent as a human being…

Second thing: I need to only write tomorrow if I feel like writing. I am not going to force it like I do every day.

Third thing: I need to call 3 people and see how they are doing. I am going to do this because it just feels like the right thing to do. I don’t know who the three people are gonna be, but I am going to call them just to check in. I WILL NOT call 3 people who I want something from. The three people I am going to call tomorrow will not be artists or people I want to collaborate with.

Fourth Thing: I am going to exercise…go for a run.

Fifth thing: I am going to forget about my own sense of purpose…I am going to refocus my thoughts on the moment, and do what I FEEL like doing, not what I FEEL like I’m called to do…

Yeah…

So thats what I am going to do tomorrow. I may try to cut another film, try and feature an artist that I know about, or even just make a video with me, just my art…

Hell, I don’t know anymore…

I need to go to sleep.

I am done writing this “book”. Hell, I am not even sure if its a book. To be honest, its just one long ass journal entry. Bits and pieces of the thoughts, conversations, and ideas I experienced on a daily basis for over a year and a half…

I cant remember the exact day I started writing and began to put together the manuscript for this project…

I remember I was sitting at the warehouse, venting tire molds and listening to Marc Maron’s podcast with Richard Linklater. They had begun to discuss the film “Boyhood”. A film I hadn’t seen at that time, yet, the idea and the vision behind the project was intriguing. While they were discussing it, an idea popped into my head that I could write a book using the same idea, by using “time” as a story telling device.

Almost instantaneously, the idea for this book manifested within my minds eye. I saw the beginning and the end. The only unknown was what would be written in between.

The beginning would be the notes I had documented after I had stopped using Heroin. I would chronologically arrange the thoughts, ideas, and conversations that I experienced as I lived a life of sobriety. My fourth step would be included, along with letters I had written an ex-girlfriend. I would share the story of living a dream, almost reaching a pinnacle of musical success. I would divulge the truth (as I perceived it) of how, and why, our band broke up. I would explore the moment I received a new passion and obsession, a desire for creativity, thrust upon me the moment the idea to start writing popped into my head…

The book turned into a philosophical inquiry on reality…

I had a profound spiritual experience and found myself plunged into an infinite moment, a waking life of metaphysical illusion. I found myself isolated amongst my friends and family, lost in a state of wonder as the world projected itself perfectly in front of my vision. Astounded and intrigued by people, places, and things…

I felt like a child. No. I felt like a man reborn. I felt like I had been given a new set of eyes and the world, and the people in it, were a moment by moment miracle.

At times, I found myself unable to speak as I watched humans interact in a world that bursted with magic. A world that seemed inexplicable in its own existence.

I found myself lost in wonderment, and eventually my pursuit of artistry led me to a new idea, a new vision that I continue to follow…

A new type of social media rooted in introspective self-exploration. A community of non-judgment for people to connect with others transparently. A community of self-discovery…

But now, this book is done. It is no longer helping me. Its hurting me.

I’ve been talking to myself for so long that I have lost connection with a world I want to be a part of.

I need to stop writing on this screen, so I can start living in my life.

I will no longer be sequestering time to write every day.

The daily writing exercises and journal entries have acted like a noose on my own development as an individual, and I need to release myself from me…

Writing this novel taught me about me, and it gave me a reason to not give up as I sifted through months of emotional debilitation.

This book saved me from drinking, drugging, and acting out in irresponsible ways.

This book gave me purpose, while my heart rippled waves of pain.

Writing this book kept me sane. (or as sane as I could be…)

This is just the end of my beginning…its not the end of me. I will continue to pursue creativity, wherever it may take me…

From My Minds Eye To Yours