Things a man ought to know...

I think ... it's good that I am still doing this. I doubt anyone else will ever tell my story and not to be too conceited - but it's worth telling. Not everything has to be an epic saga where battles are fought and won and lost, where pirates find their treasures and dragons burn their foes. Someone needs to tell the everyday stories as well and all their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. Because it's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways we can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a fable that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That our role, our gift. Do not forget that... there are many kinds of magic, after all.

Give them whiplash...

It's a new state of mind...

We accidentally started hiking a winding path that sharply descended to the feet of a thundering waterfall long after the sun had slipped behind the sleepy horizon, leaving the entire scene both dark and mysterious. And as we approached, the sound of such an immense but entirely hidden power that effortlessly shook the night itself was oddly terrifying but stunningly magical at the same time. It is true that when we seek great things we most often never find them, for we have created a sense of what great things look like, what the nature of them is, and in what manner they should arrive. And what we discover is that we are typically wrong on all accounts.

I can't stop and look the other way...

Stop the clocks, it's amazing.

You should see the way the light dances off your head,

a million colours of hazel, golden and red.

Sunday morning is fading,

the sun's reflected by the coffee in your hand,

my eyes are caught in your gaze all over again.

Thinking of milder days...

Every chance I get...

I have been feeling very clearheaded lately and what I want to write about today is the sea. It contains so many colors. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening. Sometimes it looks almost red. Or it will turn the color of old coins. Right now the shadows of clouds are dragging across it, and patches of sunlight are touching down everywhere. White strings of gulls drag over it like beads. It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget what I was supposed to be doing. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.

The more you talk about it, rehash it, rethink it, cross analyze it, debate it, respond to it, get paranoid about it, compete with it, complain about it, immortalize it, cry over it, kick it, defame it, stalk it, gossip about it, pray over it, put it down or dissect its motives it continues to rot in your brain. It is dead. It is over. It is gone. It is done. It is time to bury it because it is smelling up your life and no one wants to be near your rotted corpse of memories and decaying attitude. Just let if fucking go. It's that simple.

Having my way...

I wonder if there is something wrong with me, he thought, that I can get so much from so little, because all my joy comes from not doing - not spending summer afternoons in stuffy rooms listening to new age hipsters setting morals and agendas I am supposed to follow ... not spending summer evenings out and about, pretending I wouldn't rather be somewhere inside and alone ... not playing sports, nor reading below a tree in a park. I must be very selfish, he thought, for I want to set nothing and no-one right; all I want is to be left in peace to make what I can of this problem called life for myself and the people I cherish. What would the world be like, he wondered, if everyone minded their own business?

In the groove, when I move...

Finally getting the picture...

Here's to the almost, so close

it's over out of the blues.

Here's to the hey I think we need to talk,

and the it ain't me it's you's.

And here's to the tears and whiskey and wasted years.

On the weeds that looked like daisies,

I wouldn't be sitting here next to you,

if it weren't for the almost maybes.

Things you ought to know...

Like a Columbus of the heart, mind and soul I have hurled myself off the shores of my own fears and limiting beliefs to venture far out into the uncharted territories of my inner truth, in search of what it means to be genuine and at peace with who I really am. I have abandoned the masquerade of living up to the expectations of others and explored the new horizons of what it means to be truly and completely me, in all my amazing imperfection and most splendid insecurity. All that is left to do, is to choose the path in front of me, yet they are so numerous that it's difficult to choose the right one. Yet I can rather quickly solve the problem by realizing that it’s not the paths in front of me. Rather, it’s the path above me.

The voice of my hero...

I woke up one day and it's ten-plus years later, and here I am still. Do you know why? It's because I'm content. Maybe even happy. I found my path. My life is quite simple actually. I wake up in the morning. I do my exercises, think my thoughts. I go home after work and play my games, listen to music and myself breathing. It feels good to be alive and exist. A lot of things in my journey haven't worked out for me - but that's all right. More of my life's behind me than in front of me. Who knows how many years I took off it while I was partying. But I'm a lot healthier now, if you can believe it. I still get lonely sometimes, but so does everyone else. We're all looking for some sort of salvation in something. Then usually when we find it, it slips through our fingers. Living is hurting, but I'll take living over the alternative any day. Consciousness is a marvellous gift. Hell, I'm just rambling now. What else is new?

My super star glow...

Intriguing isn't it? One day you are the king of your world. And the next day, you stand aside, watching it all burn. Ashes slipping out of your hand, you just stand and stare, your glassy gaze fixed on something no one else could see, no one else could know.

People will talk as people do talk. And they will walk over the ashes. And the ashes will dance in front of you, reminding you every second of what was and what might have been. And you will almost give in. But my advice is, don’t give in. Because one day, you will decide to turn the corner. Put it all behind you. Just stand strong and still as the great wind comes and takes all the ashes away with it, leaving clean air behind. Fresh for you to make a new world, a better world.

I'll always come back...

All I did was try my best...

He's going to run when he's in a bind.

A track star, he can never see the finish line.

Can't confide or commit, 

on your mark, go, set, it's time to make it. 

He's about to dust somebody

do what it takes, do what's going to make it last.

Smooth like butter...

Known as the chosen one...

The day he realised it was not about the world but all about him, his wings sprouted from his shoulders. The day he understood that he was not obliged to answer to any of them who always blamed and pointed at him, he who had fire blazing in his eyes. He raised and soared towards the sky. The whole world looked at him in awe and wished if only they could be him. He was not confined to be on the ground anymore. He had the wings of fire and he left a trail everywhere he went, for others to follow. It’s better, really, to go out in a blaze. Everyone loves the ones who walk right into the fire.