Thoughts on Tour...Pittsburgh, PA

It's been another six months, so i figured i'd write another blog...



It's tough when you love living life, you're own way of course, but then try to find time to do things like this. Write about experience. The experience of writing. I love writing, moreso lyrics than details of the everyday. Moreso poems than the purposes. There is a difference.



Do you take pictures with your soul, or with a contraption?

Do you document trials with words or with scars?

Do you spread seeds to make a living or to leave a legacy?

There is a difference.



My selfish nature is something i grapple with daily, seeking a balance in the polarities of life, in the decisions that define my finite experiences here - whether i like it or not. Sitting in Joy Ike's dining room, I'm enjoying fine o.j. she has purchased, using Adam's computer, eating food that i have helped to purchase, wearing my brothers shorts and underwear he bought for me for Christmas. The only things in this picture that i possess are the shirt that i wear and the body beneath it. Possession can be such a fickle thing; if it wasn't for the people that love me, i might not even be in possession of my own body, as well as the life i live and the things that surround it. I am dependant, and i know it.



Such an idea of independence, or lack thereof, was something that fueled my fire. I was driven by proving the world that i was capable of not needing anyone. On the outside, making decisions that would perpetuate myself worthy of noone else, on the inside seeing the ends of such a lifestyle and the death that would surely follow. The longer you live life, the more you see the divinity in the fact that we are social beings, generations of peoples building upon the experiences of the last, an evolution of sorts, an exponential growth that could tower to infinity, seemingly. We need each other, if only to know how to eat with a fork, but especially if we want to examine the stars - and what you've found is what i'll gain.



As well, i found that i WANT to be dependent, i WANT to be around others, i WANT to experience the touch of another, i WANT to be Wanted. Yeah. And i have allowed that Want to be perverted, to turn into lust, to turn into desire, to transform my dependence to dependancy. I've fiended for the riches of this world, to be the obsession of another, to be depended on - only to fail miserably. Desire is such a tricky thing. One minute you've stumbled upon the pretty face of another, had a meaningful conversation, touched hands, and the next thing you know, all you can think of is that person - BOOM, desire has turned fatal!!! BOOM, your desire to know God has somehow turned into a Tower of Babel.



I've depended on writing, of all things; at one time, calling it my only friend. I could open up to the notepad, place the pen on any page, and whatever came out was accepted. I found that i needed that same exact line of communication from people. Matter of fact, i had an epiphany while writing, that if the people around me weren't willing to listen to my innermost demons, to help me in exorcising the past to embrace the now, then i wasn't willing to worry whether that person was in my life or night. I found a piece of freedom that night that emanates still from my fingertips in each keystroke at this moment. I also found that i could love people without condition because there were going to be things in this world that i could DEPEND on - if only my pen and pad.



Six years later, I have friends, I have family, I have purpose, I have o.j. and turkey burgers, and pretty cool pair of shorts. Thank God.

Mo' later!!