Monday 8 February 2010

The pain and pleasure of unrequited love

Its an old friend of mine.

I know it well. I know the joy it brings me so fertile and enriching. The pain of repressing and impotence is equally so. The sweetness of the pangs of what could be but never will be are like a perfect riff played on the guitar strings of my soul.

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"