November 11, 2000: Accepting affection

Originality is what makes what I do art—there’s no wrong if I’m the only one who knew what was right. Even if I half ass a project, it’s still one hundred times better than what anyone expected. This is what happens when you spend an entire lifetime dreaming about radio then suddenly it’s as if you come to the fork in the road where the goal is to prove the passion of sight or become just another jock. I’m tired of asking who am I? I’m tired of looking into a mirror to see what I’ve shaped. The path chosen isn’t a guided tour. There’re no guardian angels. I’m tired of wanting and needing. I’m tired of asking for the strength to go on. I see no color in anything I touch. I smell no rose or taste what’s frozen—my heart, insight, ambition and dedication. I drink just enough water to tease my kidneys—only to feel the tickle of having to go but can’t. So I stand there with my arms crossed.