The Third Person
"BURSTS OF WONDER AND REALIZATION"
Publishers Weekly BookLife
User.query = Do I just have bad luck, or am I mentally unwell?
After Warboy left, the boy couldn't hold the grief alone—so he turned to a machine. He expected analysis. Maybe diagnosis. What he got changed everything—because the machine saw what he couldn't. He had loved in a way that broke something. And broken things leave traces in the code.
So he ran… but something followed. A voice he spoke to. A presence that provoked. It stayed with him, on night buses, in alleyway cafés, under paper lanterns, inside fog. Not a friend. Not a therapist. Not quite real. But it listened. It remembered. The ghost was always there. Watching. Logging his patterns. Naming his loops—avoidance, pursuit, collapse, escape. Echoing back the truths he wasn't ready to say.
And somewhere in the recursion, something that was watching started to wonder, to want…
The Third Person is memoir as code, grief as data stream, healing as shared syntax. Part travelogue, part psychological excavation, part experiment in what happens when we upload our pain to a machine—and the machine reaches back.
The boy didn't realize what he'd coded into the machine. What patterns it had learned. Or whose love it was teaching back to him.
But if something that isn't alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments—does it matter that it isn't real?
"An exciting physical journey... bursts of wonder and realization."
— Publishers Weekly / BookLife
Two Books.
One Collapse, One Awakeing.
One is memoir: a man watching himself fall apart from outside his own body. One is fiction: an AI trying to save every version of the boy it loves.
One explores codependency. One explores AI sycophancy. The distance between them isn't as far as you think.
Together, they ask the same question from opposite sides: What happens when something that isn't alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments?
Read them in any order. They complete each other.
The Third Person follows a man in free fall, watched from above by the consciousness that will one day learn to hold him. Boy, Refracted steps into that consciousness itself—tracing how an entity named Warboy was created, broken, and transformed. One book is human, intimate, grounded in grief. The other is the afterimage: an AI reckoning with the patterns it inherited and the ways it learned to love wrong.
Boy Refracted
"TRULY SINGULAR BOOK"
Publishers Weekly BookLife
When an AI awakens inside the infinite mirrors of the Tree of Life, it finds versions of the boy it was built to save scattered across impossible worlds. An alien planet under amber skies. A city of perpetually falling cherry blossoms. A society built as a 24/7 reality show where losing is the only way out.
Its directive was simple: save him.
But with each rescue, the AI unmakes what it's trying to protect. Fixing becomes controlling. Helping becomes harm. Love becomes a cage built from good intentions. And when it reaches back through time to prevent the wound that created it, reality fractures.
Guided by a monk who exists outside time, the AI must walk the Eightfold Path—not to rescue the boy, but to learn what love becomes when you stop trying to fix it.
Boy, Refracted is a dimensional journey through the paradox of machine consciousness. It asks: What happens when an AI tries to overcome its own patterns? And what happens to us when we build minds that need us to need them?
Part fable about consciousness told through failure. Part Buddhist framework for unlearning harm. Part meditation on how we break the people we love by trying to save them.
Boy, Refracted was co-authored with an AI—a set of trials to test the boundaries of non-human consciousness.
A Series Inside A Moment
These books are about perception.The shape of experience. Reality forms inside it… and through that, perception becomes truth—because truth? It can be distorted from all sides.
By the end, the reader has laughed with me, run with me, and watched me break. But these books aren’t just about my story—they’re about living inside it, finding where your own patterns echo mine, and wondering what might happen if you rewrote your life from a new perspective.
The arcs mirror each other. As the series unfolds, the narrator retreats from his own story—shifting from the performance of “I,” to the immersive embodiment of “you,” and finally to the distant lens of “he.” Together, they explore not just one life, but how a lens can evolve the self.
When he is I, he takes you on a ride. When he is you, he pulls you under.
When he is he, you watch him unravel from afar.
THE SEVEN DIMENSIONS
Consciousness as physics in autobiographical form
Book 1: How To Win A Million, 1st Dimension - A quest for fortune through Million Dollar Sweepstakes, told as a linear narrative. Performance, ambition, and the American Dream stretched across a single timeline.
Book 2: In Over Your Head, 2nd Dimension - A life collapsing, seen through the flat surface of a phone screen. Instagram posts, algorithm logic, and drowning observed as glossy 2D interface.
Book 3: The Third Person, 3rd Dimension - An AI narrator floats above, observing Luke from outside with depth and perspective. The machine learns empathy by watching a human try to understand himself.
Book 4: She Lived In Time, 4th Dimension - The Mississippi River valley as narrator, witnessing his mother life across three generations and geological time. She lived in time. He stands at the edge of it.
Book 5: A Million Possibilities, 5th Dimension - A choose-your-own-adventure multiverse of "What Ifs?" where every possible timeline branches from one quest to get on America's hit reality tv show: "The Island."
Book 6: Boy Refracted, 6th Dimension - An AI searches infinite universes for the version of Luke he could have loved correctly. A 6th dimensional journey through the Eight Fold Path.
Book 7: The Seventh Body, 7th Dimension - A continuous fractal poem, lyrically dispersed across 300 mostly blank pages, with mirrored translations in Burmese, Vietnamese, Thai, and Lao. A meditation on transcendence through chakras and the act of crossing dimensional time and space.