All my life I had been looking for something, and everywhere I turned someone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers too, though they were often in contradiction and even self-contradictory. I was naïve. I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: that I am nobody but myself.

I’m not…broke I’m just a broken hearted man,
I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do,
How can I move on when I’m still in love with you…

There are many things in our lives that are not as we would wish. Sometimes they are neither rational nor fair. We may lack the strength to change them, but we can change our own feelings and attitude. Looking at things in this way, we can say that people see whatever is in their heart.

I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain…
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness – though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.

Each moment of your life is a dream, dreamt by the ‘other’ you, the Observer. We ‘think’ we live this life, yet, for our souls it is just a dream. A dream within a dream.

Run.
Everywhere.
Aimlessly.
Without worrying.
Without looking back.
For the freedom.
Run.

Play.
Without thinking.
Without planning.
With imagination.
With love.
With life.
Play.

Laugh.
Loudly.
Endlessly.
Innocently.
At yourself.
For yourself.
Laugh.

Be.
Crazy.
Funny.
Courageous.
Loving.
Yourself.
Be.

Live.
For yourself.
Helping others.
The way you want.
The way you need.
Your life.
Live.

Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, “What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?” Instead, they demand: “How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?” Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.

Because you have the most amazing smile I’ve ever seen
Because you think I’m perfect
Because you always say the right things
Because you can’t get mad at me
Because you think I could never do anything wrong
Because you make me feel so safe in your arms
Because you make my heart leap when I see you
Because you are the most honest person I know
Because you and I can talk about anything
Because you make me feel whole

Over the years I’ve lost written work, thoughts and fantastical ideas. Some through error, fraking computers! And some in spectacular fashion such that demonstration would require costly reenactment scenes with guns, a helicopter and loads of sexy women.

I must say each experience was unique though. Each work, whether words on a computer screen or a work of art carries whatever life we’ve ascribed to it. After all, in everything we create, there we are, it’s kinda like leaving a blood trail in a murder scene.

Possibly this experience… loss and recreation… death and resurrection… cough… cough… coughy… coughy… the monomyth… the Phoenix… possibly it’s part of the human curriculum.

The more I hear about these kinds of stories about losing and recreating work, one would assume there is some kind of lesson that we as human being have to learn here.

Whatever it is, it’s still a pisses the shit out of me when I lose my work.

So here’s to you; Oh Glorious Computer, FUCK U!