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10:35 p.m. - 2002-05-07
Too late.
The sound of it. Just the sound of it.

Do you like the sound of it? Do you know what it means? Do you feel every beat of your heart and know what it is creating? Do you live by it? Would you die by it?

Is it a pop rhythm with fluffy lyrics and flashing fire works designed to rise the charts like a rocket? A one hit wonder with selling power and no substance?

Easy to buy, easy to sell, easy to listen to.

Or complicated? Foundation and layers that build on one another getting more and more intricate, almost confusing, overwhelming and intense. Important.

Do you like it? Do you feel it or do you just want it? Is it the idea of being a rock star or the love of the music? Is it the roar of the crowd or the transfer of whatís in your head to your ears that moves you?

Are you looking for something within yourself, or are you looking for someone to give you something? Would you work at it, learn your craft and become driven by your art, or do you want to be able to play what you have heard before? Are you willing to suffer?

It is not about what you want or what you need, it is about the truth. The truth is a weight that never changes, you can try to disguise it but its mass remains the same. You can try to avert your gaze, but it exists acknowledged or not. You can refute it but it goes nowhere.

What is your relationship with it? What is your desire, and what are you willing to give up to get it? Comfort? Safety? Control?

I lie to myself. I want to be safe for a while and not let my soul be dragged around by its entrails. I want to believe what I have always known to be false. I want to forget what I learned in past lives, what was born into this world with me, what I am a part of, what weighs more than the world in total, what solidifies my purpose, what I am here to sustain.

I like to pretend that I am here to learn, but I am here to teach. I like to pretend that I am here to absorb, but I am here to release. I wish for the lack of responsibility that comes with ignorance, but it can never be mine. I want my influence to be felt, but I resent its power. I resent it and so do you. You canít forget what you have seen through my eyes because it is the weight of humanity. You have lost your bliss forever. You are now as responsible for it as I am.

I still need a motherfucking haircut.


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