What he really meant was: “Just because you found your talent doesn’t mean you have one”, “Life is like a movie. Your ending has already been written for you”, “With good friends, you will lose”, “Do worry about the world coming to an end”.

Poetry is a straight line towards decomposition. Some people love to be taken by its incandescent wind to a place of blissful fatality, and some people get blisters in their ears just thinking about its howling, knitting sound. It’s funny.

I remember when I believed that sleep was almost a nuisance, an obstacle for living, a waste of time. I went from there to believe of sleep as nourishment, and of waking life as being a nuisance, an obstacle, a waste of time, particularly when it shows up uninvited in the middle of the night.

As an artist, I have felt in the past that my career had been resolved into my own idea of success and failure. It was either one or the other, and it was always someone else idea. I’ve thrown that paradigm out the window. Success is failure. Failure is success. It’s all about love.

Proud of the small stuff, of the big stuff, of the stuff I own, of the stuff I got. Pride always puts me in a position of weakness and conflict, of separation, of rivalry. I try to strive for humbleness. But isn’t humbleness another way of being proud? As in proud to be humble? What is the opposite of pride? How I can get to ‘nothingness’ so I don’t have to be this or be that?

I remember one of those times when I thought I was done with love. I locked my heart and threw away the key. I want to think everyone has done the same at some point or another. Of course that’s just silly. You can’t be done with it, or lock it in. It doesn’t work. Resistance is futile.

No one believes in ingenuity anymore. No one trusts it, no one thinks it’s worth anything, no one sees any face value on it. I think it’s because it doesn’t have the capability to hurt and destroy. Everything worth something these days is measured by how big it is and/or how much destructive power it has.

It’s so easy to become a victim of our circumstances and sink in sad, scared, or angry feelings. I think sometimes that’s inevitable, but other times it seems as if we’re drawn by the gloom of suffering, and we purposely avoid overcoming it.