We Burn Through The Night

SHRINEBUILDER U.S. TOUR UPDATE.

2009-11-01T15:13:00.000-08:00

The initial gigs are in our midst.

Nov.11 in Hollywood, Ca. @ The Viper Room(we will play 2 sets with no support band, our intention is to stretch it out a little bit and see where we are at before we head out on the road.)

Nov.13 in Baltimore, Md. @ Club Sonar supported by U.S. Christmas and Earthride

Nov.14 in Chicago @ The Empty Bottle 2 sets(they will clear the club between shows and recharge at the door) support for the early show is Yakuza and for the late show Rwake.

Nov.15 in New York City @ Le Poisson Rouge supported by Rwake and Liturgy

Nov.16 in Austin, Tx. @ Emos(outdoor) supported by Sub Oslo

I will be checking in as we prepare and while we are on the road. See you out there.

Metallica.1.2.3.4.

2009-09-19T19:41:00.000-07:00

I have had an ongoing debate with a friend of mine over the last 5 or so years about the first 4 Metallica albums, as to which 3 are the ones to run up the flag poll. I have been holding the line with 1,2, and 3 while he has been pushing for 2,3, and 4. Anyone who wants argue for anything beyond those 4 records is a complete ass and needs to purge themselves from this life immediately.

So there is no argument over 2 and 3. We agree they are the 2 best albums ever made by Metallica. I also think that we can agree that of those 2 'Master Of Puppets' is the one, the pinnacle, the crowning glory of there musical exploration in total.

What we are left with is a debate on Cliff Burton's influence on the band and whether actually physically having him playing the music is more effective then the band realling in the wake of his death.

Before I go any further and before people start commenting on how much they have fallen, let me say, that in my opinion they get an eternal pass. The music created on those 4 albums is beyond reproach and since none of us have any idea the horrors that befell them as human beings after his extremely violent death, we can not judge how we would have handled it.

As I said before I have been of the 1.2.3. school for sometime and I think on re listening I can tell you why first of all there a couple crystallizing pinnacle moments on that first record particularly the bass solo(...take 1) and the chugaluga breakdown mid way through 4 Horsemen(which will never be beat in my book for simplicity and dynamic impact). The overall effect of the downstroke guitar playing of Hetfield is revolutionary and a lesson that I took to heart. Now as I stand here now I am caught in a wash of memories as I re listen to these 4 records, and I must say that most of them have to do with drugs. Some of them do not...I remember sheepishly selling bootleg Metallica demos in the parking lot of Arco Arena in Sacramento with none other then Steve Von Till, Doug Dirt(Oakland celebrity), our friend from Canada Jim(who went on to join The Exploited at some point). Have you heard the demo? The one with Dave Mustaine on it? It is great, but is hilarious lyrically and at times vocally. Anyway...I digress.

The primary issue that I have always had with 4. is that the production is horrific(although after listening to 30 seconds of St. Anger perspective is achieved, 4. ain't that bad in fact it has a certain charm kinda like a hospital cafeteria) and the album led to the mainstream breakthrough and then led to the obvious downturn and emotional vacuum that brought us the 5th album and all the subsequent attempts. Upon my re listening I am struck with the depth of 4. The songs are raw and the emotions are on crushing. There are beautiful juxtapositional moments and devastating riffs abound. 4. is something to be hold it is and will always be the last breath that Clifford Lee Burton had creatively in this band. Although I'm sure that his shadow is still within there reach, I have always thought that space that he filled within them as people was a hole that could never be touched again.

Let the discussion begin...1. or 4.?

Evan Tanner. Remembrance.

2009-09-09T14:13:00.000-07:00

It has been 1 year since Evan Tanner passed away. Those of you who keep up on such things you will remember why you supported this guy so damn hard. For those of you who are not followers of the fight game in general or MMA specifically I encourage you to take the time to check out this article. Evan Tanner was a remarkable man. I believe that his legacy must be shared.

Follow the link and scroll down the page to find the article.

http://mma.fanhouse.com/2009/09/08/one-year-later-evan-tanners-unforgettable-life-and-legacy-reme/

SHRINEBUILDER UPDATE.

2009-09-09T00:55:00.000-07:00

Sunday Nov.15 will be NYC at La Poisson Rouge. Monday the 16th will be in Austin at Emos. I will play a song, "Pyramid Of The Moon", of off the album in its entirety on my radio show this Thursday.

You will find it here.

http://www.combatmusicradio.com/returntozero/

Stayed tuned for more live dates.

Love Hurts.

2009-09-03T00:40:00.000-07:00

As we approach another what looks to be painful year of Oakland Raider professional football, I feel that I must purge myself of the pain that can be be incurred when you love something and you forget why.

I know why I love the Raiders, when I was little kid I was drawn to the colors(long before I had even seen California, let alone made my bones in Oakland) the Silver and Black. No two better colors exist(yeah, yeah I know blacks not a color, tell that to Louis Farrahkan or the KKK) fucking period. When you mix that with the logo and the renegades that made up the Oakland Raiders of the 1970's you have an easy identity for a 9 year old lover of KISS,Alice Cooper, and the smell of gasoline. When my path eventually landed me in Oakland in the mid 80's the Raiders were long gone but the power remained in the city. My vagabond lifestyle made it so I completely missed the 2 Super Bowl victories in LA, it seemed like a good time to get back in the boat, as they were down in the dumps and I never liked a front runner. Through the rest of the 80's and early 90's the mystique never failed me and on there return to Oakland I was right there with the rest of the diehards that had been in the trenches, on the streets , in the jails and prisons(you haven't lived until you are booked into San Diego Co. Jail in head to toe Raider gear on the day the Raiders are playing the Chargers, been there and fucking done that) welcoming them home to the claim the crown of the scourge of the Bay Area that was and is Oakland.

We had a moment when things seemed to be breaking our way, we had a great team, a leader in John Gruden and a sense of destiny surrounded our team and our town. Within the course of 3 years we were the victims of the most bullshit and fixed call since "the immaculate reception" , thank you New England(hows Darryl Stingley doing?), the loss of our great coach due to yet another power move by our totally fucking wakka doo owner(a whole 'nother post in and of itself), and a loss against the worst possible opponent in a Super Bowl that we could have ever dreamed of, would have one against anyone else.

Since that day we have fallen to point of death. Wearing my Jack Tatum jersey is like walking through a firestorm of laughter and degradation... but then I am reminded when I see these pictures of truth that this isn't about wether you win or lose its about how you play the fucking game and we as Oakland Raider Fans(short for fanatic) show up with our game on every goddamn day. Silver and Black still pumps through my veins, 'til death do us part.

Angel Of Death.

2009-08-16T10:58:00.000-07:00

I don't remember hearing Hank Williams that often around the house when I was a kid. My Dad was a Waylon and Willie guy, so I was more or less raised on 3rd generation country music, of the "Outlaw" variety. I wouldn't discover David Allan Coe, Townes Van Zandt, Kris Kristofferson and those guys until I revisited my roots in my late 20's. Johnny Cash was on TV every Saturday night so I was always well aware of him, but I didn't realize his true majesty until much later.

Country music always sounded good to me, I always had a place in my heart for songs like "Luckenbach, Texas", "Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain", and "I May Never Pass This Way Again" they were simple songs that captured raw emotion. They were presented in such a direct, honest way that they were unforgettable. Even at my most jaded times as a young man, I still liked to hear those songs. They always connected me to my blood. Even when I wanted nothing more then to be as far away from my blood as possible. There is something to be said for that in and of itself. Music speaks to a deeper nature within you and the more direct the it is the more it resonates in the truth of your soul.

I own every song that Hank Williams ever wrote. Every night for 3 years I would fall asleep to his songs, in a time when I honestly had too say goodbye to the world every time I went to sleep because I thought I would not make it to the next day, Hank guided and protected my spirit in my rest. He wrote something like 150 perfect songs and was dead at 29. The depth and soul in his music speaks to my belief that music is a gift given to those who are willing to submit to its will. There is no other explanation.

SHRINEBUILDER Live.

2009-07-30T21:08:00.000-07:00

Nov. 14 at The Empty Bottle in Chicago,Ill.

Theresa.

2009-07-21T08:37:00.001-07:00

Its been a couple of months since I have given in to the writer in me. I am going to try to be more diligent about this but life often interferes with my plans so no promises, as I said in the beginning of this blog, I will write when the spirit moves me...

I buried my sister a week ago. She was a warrior. She lost her final battle somewhat willingly but her spirit is something that will carry on in me and the rest of us eternally. I have many favorite memories of her I would like to share with you 2 of them...

The first time I met her I was 8 years old and living on the East Coast, we had different Mothers and she was a wild child(my Dad had a couple of them) so I hadn't had the chance to meet her yet. I was home alone and there was a knock on the door, I crept up to the window beside the door and saw the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes that I had only known from photographs that my Dad had shown me.

She saw me and said "Hey I'm yer sister let me in".

I was so excited to finally meet this person who already was a legend in the family, my very own flesh and blood. She had been hitchhiking around and she was with some guy who I only remember as being a little bit scary, but I didn't care about him, I just wanted to meet my sister. We went into the house and I remember her being super funny and very nervous about seeing my Dad(you would be too), she asked me if we had any food and she started making sandwiches, it was the first time I ever had a fluffer-nutter. We sat on the floor of the kitchen and ate and laughed as if we had known each other for ever. When we were done she asked me if I wanted some dessert(I was in a state of bliss) I of course said yes and she took a bowl and filled it to the top with whipped cream.

Thats about all I can remember from that day because for rest of the afternoon, we were in the backyard, she was laughing her ass off as I ran and ran and ran in circles in the backyard burning sugar from my blood like a crackhead with a $50 rock.

Flash forward 20 years. Over the the time that passed since our first time meeting we had become very close, her and I were very alike in our lifestyles and our passions. She was such a big hearted person, she had seemingly endless love to give to those who she chose to share it with. At this point in time we both had Families of our own, I had my 2 oldest and she had her 3.

Her youngest was a beautiful girl who had been born with Downs Syndrome. I always respected how she was treated within the my sisters Family. Inside she was always cared for and loved, never treated any different then anyone else, but the humor of our blood was always intact. So as to say that there were more then enough funny things that a child with such and affliction will do, and none of us were made to be afraid to laugh when the happened, never to shame only to release the confusing and painful emotion that stays in your body when you are dealing with a situation like this.

As the child grew she became a unstoppable Family favorite, always at the center of everything and the most loving, hugging, kissing, laughing person I have ever known. When she hit her teens things began to get more difficult for her socially, as you could imagine, and her Family surrounded with protection and safety. Her siblings are 2 of the best hearted people I have ever known.

When the public schools started to try get my sister to put her in a special placement, she refused. They said that a child like this would never learn to read. My sister taught her to read. They said that a child like this could never learn to write or add. My sister proved them wrong. At every turn the schools protested and tried to keep her out of the main stream.

My sister said what she said anytime someone told her something like that "Fuck You".

At 18 we had a high school graduate, as proud a moment as you could possibly imagine. My sister knew how important it was for this child to do this and for the other people who fought against to see what was possible.

It was a struggle that was defined within struggle itself.

My sister was a fighter, born and bred, from the cradle to the grave she always did as she saw fit. She never backed down from anyone or anything. I am left with a lot of regret of time that I missed with her, but we both were busy doing shit. We loved each other to the end and thats all that counts.

I will never forget the twinkle in her eyes and I will never see a twinkle quite like that again.

Return.

2009-04-30T00:07:00.000-07:00

After a 2 month hiatus I have returned to the airwaves on KMBT Radio. If you feel it then check it out. http://www.combatmusicradio.com/returntozero/mp3/rtz0130.mp3

Beyond The Pale at Roadburn April 25, 2009

2009-04-21T12:20:00.000-07:00

There is an extremely interactive blog that will be updated by the bands/artists throughout the festival. Please take the time to check this out if you would like a unique look at what goes down over the weekend in Tilborg. Be well. http://beyondthepaleatroadburn.blogspot.com/

The Need.

2009-04-14T14:55:00.000-07:00

To bleed.

All the time.

To get out the bad blood and renew from the source.

Fresh images expressed to my brain.

Old pictures imprinted from the path of my soul.

Relive the wars.

Declare the promise that never strays.

Let it flow as it should, let it stain as should, let it grow as it should, let it spill from my heart.

Deepest Red.

2009-04-08T07:08:00.000-07:00

She was abandoned by her teenage Father when she was 1 year old. He would try to make it right, but he could not reverse the the damage he had done.

She never forgave him.

He will never forgive himself.

She lived a full life. Experiencing all that she could find. Repeating the pain of her abandonment with every man in her Fathers wake. Destroyed. Degraded. Left in a ditch. Left in a trailer. Over and over again.

Her fire raged.

She couldn't stop the pain.

She loved her people.

She could not love herself.

She couldn't see herself, because if she had she would have known the dream that I saw in her eyes. She would have known the sun that she brought to me in her smile.

She fought through it all. Fierce.

The first time I met her she stole some candy and gave it to me. She made me laugh. She always made me feel like I was okay. She was my mirror, and for the first time, I liked what I saw.

Her heart was deepest red.

As the years took their toll, the wounds cut to the core. The weight of it all was unbearable. The losses were insurmountable.

The decisions of the past reverberate in eternity.

Today she will know that she will soon be gone. That it will all finally be over. The struggle is given, the outcome has been written. Time will always take its share in the end.

I wish for her to haunt me. I want her twinkle in my eye. I want her ghost in my dreams. I want her laugh in my soul. I wish for her pure heart to feel the grace of light. Please let the pain die first.

Let her children shine.

Pride.

2009-04-02T12:20:00.000-07:00

I used to think that pride was necessary in all moments of my life. It was the foundation of many of my thoughts and movements in my life. I now realize how much it has stunted my evolution as a man.

The things that I end up fighting over will inevitably run over the things that I need to be fighting through when my pride becomes wounded.

I am on the beginning of this realization. I have seen through myself and what I see is fragile.

I can become what I need to be only by evolving and getting past the small, scared, lonely kid in the corner that I used to be. My pride becomes tied up in the smallest most insignificant moments. I have created a line within myself that no one else could possibly know, and when the line is crossed I react in a pride filled hurtful way. My capacity to hurt appears endless within the limits of what I perceive through my pride. The pride fuels my rage and my rage knows no bounds. I am trying to leave so much of what I have become behind. I'm trying to bring this thing in me to where I want it to be, not where it feels comfortable nesting in my head.

"This is Toe, you know what to do"

2009-03-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

Neurosis had a gig get cancelled at the last minute in Birmingham, Alabama sometime around 1993.

For those of you don't know about Birmingham it has a deep, dark and violent history mainly concerning race but in general it is a hard place to be different whatever that may mean to you. We had played there many times over the years previous and had such memorable experiences such as playing for a promoter named "Big Toe"(the above title refers to his answering machine), to playing a venue directly across the street from a hole in the wall(literally) crackhouse with a line 30 people deep all night(more then a few extremely fast crackhead fistfights that night), to 3 drunken middle aged Klansmen showing up outside the venue in the middle of the ghetto proclaiming loudly for all to hear "Any Niggers around here need to know, that the Klan is here to sort'em out". Yeah they hate Catholics too but I'm not sure if these particular assholes knew that. Anyway what I'm getting at is that Birmingham is tense, all the time. So when we are in Birmingham we are more guarded and watchful then usual.

It was the middle of summer and it was hot and extremely humid in the van so we decided to blow off some steam. There was a park across the street from the venue(which was locked down) and we decided to go drink, smoke, eat sandwiches, and be in the sun until the evening before we went on to the next destination. There was a marquee on the venue, it was an old movie theater. After being across the street for an hour or so Jason and Pete suddenly got up and Jason said "Finish up, we'll be right back" with intent and urgency. We all knew each other well to know if someone spoke in that way it was serious, especially in a place like Birmingham, Alabama, and we started finishing up whatever we were doing and standing up to go. They walked over to the van and moved it underneath the marquee and both of them jumped onto the roof of the van(treacherous move at best) in a matter of moments they had rearranged every letter on the previously scattered and unreadable marquee to say one singular word that none of us will ever forget...ALIENREPTILEGOATGOD. Jason turned around and with his most devious smile and with a twinkle in his eye he said "Uh,we should go".

We were already running for the van. I always wondered if the promoter who fucked us out our gig saw it and how long it stayed up there before they took it down. Goodnight Birmingham.

13.

2009-03-14T10:36:00.000-07:00

Checking in. Checking out. I'm in between the realms of reality. I'm still missing a few important pieces to the puzzle that I threw against the wall a few weeks ago... A few months ago... A few years ago... Over and over again.

I'm trying to stop dieing. Inside and out. I am tired of death.

I realize that my path has and been and will continue to be wrought with treacherous experience and the weight of many more then I would think I could hold.

But I can hold them. I can hold it all. I have no choice. By definition it is who I am.

I love to express myself in as pure a way as possible. This is why I love to fight. This is why I love to bleed. This is why I am able to survive on the inside, while everything else falls apart.

I know that I do hold this experience in solitude.

I know that there are many more of us out there.

I know that most of you don't understand, and I hope that you never do.

But for those of us who are in it...thanks for checking in.

We Let The Hell Come.

2009-02-26T07:02:00.000-08:00

The blade of the Reaper suspending the eye in the judgement,

All dues in the crossing feed the soul drowning in the breach.

Watch Her Breath Light In The Sun.

Death brings the rain to river and I walk from the shore waiting,

The stones in the river bring hell to the heart of those of us left in our shells.

Watch Her Breath Light In The Sun.

As the truth is denied,

We will fall in the sun.

In the depths of our run,

We let the hell come,

We let the hell come.

2009-02-19T22:13:00.000-08:00

As I am massively preoccupied in my own struggles at this time I thought I would share an article that was forwarded to me from my oldest living friend. The subject of the article is Doc Dart the singer of the long time defunct band The Crucifucks. A band that is responsible for one of the 3 most amazing live performances I have ever witnessed as well 2 mind blowing albums, not to mention his solo work, Doc Dart has always made music that speaks to my soul and makes my blood stir.

You may notice that the article is written by Sam Mcpheeters, who was the singer of a great band that means a lot to a lot of people, Born Against.

http://viceland.com/int/v16n1/htdocs/the-troublemakers-515.php?country=

And Now...

2009-02-11T22:10:00.001-08:00

I will be gone from this for awhile. Life demands more of me then I can offer. I will return, please read the archives...Be well.

.:SMK

Lux Interior.

2009-02-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

Lux Interior died in California last night. The Cramps were one of a kind and he was one the best front men ever to dominate a stage. I saw them years ago when I was young and closed minded and they opened me up to a whole world of dark Americana sound. They were so unique in there approach, especially considering that they came from the same time and place as the Television, The New York Dolls, CBGB's, Maxs' Kansas City etc. There mixture of B Horror with Hillbilly/Surf music has never been duplicated. Today is for him and Poison Ivy. He was 62. Respect.

Suffer

2009-02-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

The suffering never ends. I accept this.

Wisdom is born of experience and pain.

There is no doubt.

There is no way to alter what will become. This idea doesn't mean that you sit idle as the world decides your fate. It means that what ever you will do next was inevitable. I have come to believe this to be true.

There is no why. I accept this too.

The reasons are untold. They will remain that way.

I am set adrift right now. There is very little left in reserve today. I am holding a constant vigil. Focused light. I am praying now. Protection... Amber Light...

...please protect her.

Here We Go Jesus, Here We Go!!

2009-01-31T10:11:00.000-08:00

On the eve of the Super Bowl, which has been the pinnacle of pain to my loyal heart in these recent years, I feel it is time to recognize the premier Jesus Freak Athlete in sports today. If there is someone more about "The Power and The Glory", then Kurt Warner I am not aware of him(please leave your suggestions in the comments section). This guy and his manish wife have been out bible thumping on the worlds stage for 10 years now.

His story is a good one. He was a bag boy at the supermarket, sorting through the hard stuff and the soft stuff, supporting his family in Iowa. The Arena Football League started up and he got shot with the local team. Apparently through the power of Jesus he was able to "lift" his team to a championship and at the same time he caught the tear clouded eye of Dick Vermeil, then coach of the soft as a cloud St. Louis Rams. He then got a job in the NFL and took over the starting position to once again "lift" the absolutely softest championship team that the NFL has ever seen to a victory in the Super Bowl.

The '85 Bears would have left this team bleeding and crying on the floor in the corner of the bathroom, The '76 Raiders would have had these guys swishing up and down the tier selling the asses for honeybuns, The '00 Ravens would have murdered these guys at a bar in Atlanta(Oops!? was that my outside voice). But anyway where was I...

...Listen, I'm actually rooting for this guy tomorrow. Let me tell you why. First and foremost, as a Raider fan, I Fucking Hate The Steelers. I respect them. They are the greatest organization in professional football hands down. But I hate them more and for longer then any other team out there. The pain of '70's and fucking "immaculate reception" does not go away, ever. But really more then "the longest hatred", is the fact that after 10 years of Kurt Warner constantly pumping God into our ears I have turned a 180 and I have to respect his consistency, in the end the guy is genuine. And I have to respect that. Be real. What else can you ask for? I also appreciate the guy letting us know where he stands and what and who he is. So today, I find myself cheering for the living embodiment of the most popular black man ever. No not Barack, not Michael Jordan, not the strangely oppressively name of Martin Luther King(look up his name sake Martin Luther), but good ole' Jesus Christ born in manger after his Momma was violated by a ghost...actually sounds real enough for me. Fuck it. Go Cardinals!

My First Crush.

2009-01-28T08:06:00.000-08:00

I have an intimate relationship with violence. My first memory of school is pulling a kid down of the monkey bars and smashing him. We moved around the country a lot when I was growing up and my Dad taught me to fight to prove myself to the locals. This usually worked as way to amass fear. Close friends, not so much.

My Dad is an intimidator, I became an intimidator.

I learned that I was very comfortable with emotional detachment.

I learned that I enjoyed pain, giving as much as receiving.

These lessons became a part of the core of my being. They translated and reinterpreted themselves in aspects of my entire life and personality, that is easily seen in my addictions and my overall taste for darkness. I rarely participate in physical violence anymore, unless it's directed at myself. But I am always willing. The level of psychic violence and intimidation that I participate in daily, both outward and inward, is constant and has been for as long as I can remember.

I have a some friends(and a Wife)who are particularly gifted at violence. They are efficient ,skillful, and clean. I, at times, have been (oh yes.....oh... yes) but usually I am very messy. Once my fuse has been lit it's chaos. Blood, Broken Glass, Chairs, More Blood, Car Tires, Bricks Bats and Bottles, Some Bleeding, Up, Down, Deep, Dark, Sticky, Nasty.

Bring a fucking lunch.

A couple of other things that I learned from my Dad is that it's not over until I say it's over and that I can never lose. Which means if you get the best of me that I will eventually get you(and I can wait...)one way or another, even and and almost exclusively this means that I will fuck myself over in the process. It doesn't matter because at the root, this all about fucking myself up anyway. I fully realize this when I am not consumed by it but my ability to negotiate through rage is non existent.

I feel that this sole(soul)internal external experience and expression is responsible for so many of things that I have and don't have in my life. It IS the fire inside me. It IS the destroyer. It is also the thing that makes me want to bring life and light to the world. At times it is a righteous gift but I feel at odds with it and it's attachments. The baggage is enormous. In truth it is too much.

I feel blessed to be able to write about this and express myself through art and music. Somehow I have been able to get to this point. Many of friends that I grew up with expressed there life through violent death, either taking there own or someone else's. I really, really miss them all.

Close the door behind you.

2009-01-26T06:18:00.000-08:00

Mining music from space is what I do best. Sometimes space is NASA sometimes space is just simply space. Opening the door to allow the music in can be dangerous, it is something that I have had to learn the hard way. When you trust in your ability to handle the input you have to be prepared to fight the demons that get in with it. I know that my ghosted mind needs very little to go off the rails. When I'm standing in the doorway I am particularly susceptible. Put it like this, I am a filter and therefore I catch anything that comes through at that moment. I have to clean my mind every time I use it like this. I have remnants littered throughout my psyche. If I'm not diligent and respectful of this process then I am left with a chaotic pattern resonating in my mind. The result is rarely positive. Mining mind my blind eye I find... design.

The design is throughout it all. The design is what we have and nothing else. The design leads us, through the path of the design to the heart of the design, where we will submit to the will of the design. The design is what we will find when we open the door to see what's inside.

Beautiful Clarity

2009-01-20T21:52:00.000-08:00

http://pitchfork.tv/week/joy-division

Constant State of Prayer

2009-01-16T06:41:00.000-08:00

Many things have been witnessed and experienced by me, from within and without from the end to the conception. If I take the moment to reflect from a place of stillness I notice that I am in a constant state of prayer. I am continually in conversation with the unseen all seeing and the ghosts that live in my heart.

If I am straight with it I can see that my vigil comes from a deeply scarred psyche. I am paranoid, terrified, and distrusting of my potential losses. I have lost so many people close to me that I can't live a day without thinking about the inevitable next turn towards our collective and individual deaths. This is what bores the hole that can never be filled deep within my soul.

Do I believe in God? No. But how I could I not? My mind has seen it, what can I say? Obviously this has nothing to do with the church. I believe that God is a simple word to use to express something that is complicated in a way that it is well beyond language. I will use the word. The christian God doesn't do it for me but the saints work on some levels. There is a path there I can see it.

My constant state of prayer is on the verge of begging at times "please don't, please don't..." but the most consistent mantra is one of safe passage, wherever and whomever that may be. There are very few things I can say with certainty that I know. I will suffer. I will love. I will wait. I am willing. I am dust.