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Was it Something I Said

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I don’t want to live in a big empty house, with big empty walls and big empty things.
I want to live in a house that has laugh lines,
That sags and sways but is waiting for you, day after day with open arms.
I want to live a life full of love and life, joy and heart,
More than being “a great employee,” “a great innovator,” “a great [insert generic noun here],”
I don’t aspire to have statues of myself for strangers to look at some day in the remote infinity of time,
I don’t aspire to have endowments.
I want to be with friends and family. 
I want to be remembered through the hearts of people whose lives I’ve had the joy of sharing. 
I want to have fun; laughing, sharing stories, hugging, playing. 
I want to work, too, but not for the sake of securing approval and having status, but for the sake of contributing to something that is worthwhile, that means something!  (And I guess, that *also* includes making infinite jiaozi)
I want to be someone I would’ve admired when I was a kid, when I was a naive college idealist with my head and heart in the clouds, when I’m looking back at my life, wondering where all the time went. 
I want desperately, more than anything, not to waste this life; to have the courage and wisdom to know how to not waste this life.
I want this!
And this,
And this,
And this,
Because this, even in its most abstract, is what feels real.

Dd (and summer)’s coming!

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Found out last week that my little big brother, Deedz, is gonna come live with me this summer while doing an internship out here in the Bay! In anxious anticipation for his arrival–for what will be frolicking in the sun, binge eating cookies by the bucket, conversations about girls and boys and art and tech, bellowing laughs that fill my tiny (but less tiny than the last) apartment’s walls, and an infinity of other Gao-like traditions–I’m posting a few overdue pictures from my latest trip to NY this past spring; pictures that bookend the passing of spring and usher in an always-welcome summer, that serve as witness to Dean and my trip to visit Deedz in his Brooklyn enclave.

Pictured are an incomplete but nonetheless full assortment of things and people and places visited during these few days–old and dear friends, my brother’s ridiculously well-adorned grad student apartment, and, of course, the endless insta furnishings, for your insta pics, at the insta office. How meta.

A few random details about the trip, for posterity:

  • DD, Dean and I tried to do as all the NY things, namely hours of endless walking, eating, subwaying, and endless pursuit of lox.
  • I met Lisa’s boo, Dom, for the first time, and Andrea’s, Taylor, for the second. We celebrated Lisa’s tenure at Bloomie’s, as she was soon to pivot into a new space, with small pastries that were more satisfying to look at than to nom nom. I melted in the warmth and love of seeing these two best friends of mine and their lives with these most beloved partners! The night wound down with Taylor & Dom watching Seinfeld while Andrea, Lisa and I watched Benito Skinner’s horoscope parodies on insta on the next couch.
  • We helped Deetz shop for his house party, a soirée that was thrown with his downstairs neighbors/owners of the house who were moving to the West coast because Ken, the husband, is starting a design architecture firm in Portland.
  • Dean and I walked around all afternoon and evening Saturday, before returning back to Dd’s party, dessert in tow. During this walk we: got big gay ice cream directly followed by serious consideration of yet more ice cream at Davey’s, got Bahn Mi at St. Mark’s, bopped around the East village and LES and Chinatown, got the best motherfing maple coffee I have ever had, bought a tub of banana cream pudding for the party, talked about some serious things and some not so serious things, cried (me), laughed so hard it hurt, talked, listened, held hands. Relished in these most special moments–the banal, the everyday, but still somehow the most magical, the most meaningful, the most Real and Important.
  • Saw friends from college! Mike and Melanie! Both of whom I haven’t seen in years, but who live in NY and came to Dd’s party. I was so happy to see them and was reminded of all the things I love and miss about college/in my life: all my RC weirdos–weirdos because they defy convention, weirdos because they haven’t grown out of their idealism and integrity, weirdos because Melanie brought a big plastic dildo-like back scratcher that she and Mike found on a trash can on their way over, something I could only imagine myself or an equally weirdo friend doing–who remind me of my humanity and community, from which I have felt to varying degrees estranged since college.
  • Met Dd’s friends from school and Dean’s friend from the bay, an interesting, eclectic, and funny bunch. Talked with a few, laughed even harder with a few others. Met Malcolm, enough said.
  • And lastly and least notable, spent a lot of time at work; made and drank a lot of hot chocolate and matcha (by far the most notable perks of the NY office).
Dd and his cutie, but not well pictured, apartment
Melanie and her dildo back scratcher
Lisa, Isabel, Andrea!
Dd, on insta for insta at insta

Still Life

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S/o to Jack Henry Robbins for this gem of a lazy groove

I just visited my parents, on an epic 36 hour trip to Texas. Epic, for how many conversations, how many laughs, how many nibbles, how many hugs and kisses and laying-in-laps were exchanged in such a short time! 15 cups of tea, 4 meals, 2 walks, 2 runs, 1.5 movies, 1 bike ride, 1 joy ride in my dad’s “GT-R”—according to him, a “once in a lifetime opportunity,” at which my mom scoffed and sighed, somewhat playfully, before eventually obliging by piling into the driver’s seat.

But what is really once in a lifetime, the occasion really worth cherishing, is spending time with my parents. And witnessing, feeling how our relationships change with time, how they ebb and flow, like watching the sun shimmer and float on the breathing ocean surface—so beautiful it’s hard not to stare and smile. Picking up with conversations we’ve had thousands of times, yet each time somehow new and not quite like the last. Sharing thoughts we’ve shared before, but hearing them differently now with time and new experience; sharing thoughts we haven’t shared before, and smiling because there’s still so much to learn about this person! This person I’ve known and loved my whole life, this person who is home, comfort, and familiarity, but changes and evolves just the same as myself.

It’s 4:38 am. I’m in the Abilene airport. I’m tired, but so, so happy.


I walk into my Palo Alto apartment, not many hours from when I left it Saturday morning. It feels like I’ve been gone on an expedition to the stars and back, but the physical evidence brings me back to earth: the same flowers I had bought earlier in the week greet me when I walk in the door, smiling as if they’ve been waiting.  

I take these photos around noon, 2/18/19, in a state of delirious calm. I make a salad, cook some vegetables, make some hot chocolate, pull things from the shelves, unpack groceries I just returned from getting. And turn to see this chaotic spread of beautiful mess and clutter. A beautiful mess that feels like home, because it’s sunflower oil left over from the holidays with my family, eden soy—my preferred brand of soy milk because Marilyn convinced me of this years ago—apple cider vinegar that I yelled at her for buying too much of, Kirkland brand Himalayan pink salt and tellicherry black pepper that our whole family has gotten into the habit of buying en masse, the same, but new greenpan pan we’ve used at home for years, a wonky cutting board Marilyn sent me from Williams Sonoma, a felted wool trivet Stephen and Melinda got each of us for Christmas. The sun’s beaming in through the windows, and I feel so good, as I look onto this beautiful mess of my home.  


Alone but Moving


*A thank you to Deets for unknowingly introducing me to the song that inspired this post.


I’m walking down the stairs of a building that I’ve known my whole life, a place I’ve known better in the past seven years than the previous 17. I feel strangely nostalgic, but this is no stranger of mine. I’ve felt this way before. I’ve been exactly here before.

I’m hit deep in my gut . I can feel a wave about to break and crash down forcing tears to surface. Tears that feel like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—the dreamiest fall day where all the leaves in their changing colors sway because they have nowhere to be and all the time in the world.

It feels like loneliness and completeness together at the same time. I can see everywhere I’ve been and everywhere I’m headed, all the people I’ve loved and those I’ll love until the end of time. In this moment I think I feel loneliness, that I’m missing someone to know me through my life, who has been there most intimately as I’ve existed in one way, and with me again when I’ve grown into new skin. Who has known my thoughts and felt my feelings, who knows not just my present embodiment but the entangled sum of all the kinetic force that has brought me here. But this feeling, this craving to exist beyond myself with someone to defend its truth is the exact sense in which I feel complete.

I’m moving through this world, through the places that have held me and seen me through my most extraordinary and banal moments. The agnostic buildings, streets, steps, lights, and trees that have bore witness to my entire life existing before them, each day only slightly different from the last but each year unrecognizably new, just as the summer leaves change hour by hour, day by day, until you turn just in time to find them sleeping under a blanket of snow.

I’m alone in this moment, but how beautiful this life has been. The places we’ve called home who don’t think, feel, or know, but have undeniably been. Who have watched us grow, watched us love, watched us cry, watched us yearn, watched us laugh, watched us change. The places who have listened to the millions of words spoken between friends, family, and partners. Who have seen these words for what they really are—us, looking at each other, seeing each other, and sharing in love. So precious these moments have been. How incredible it is to be, if only just to feel the world pass through us. If we stop to feel, we can see the magic in the life within us—the life that has held us and hurt us, that has promised and betrayed us, that, in the end, is nothing more and nothing less than simply, us.

I’m walking down the stairs of a building that I’ve know my whole life. Here I am. Alone, but moving.






*35mm film photographs taken during my senior year of college, 2013.