It's been awhile.

A lot has changed… I was a living author. Then a dead author. Then an art spirit.

I learned how to compose music on a cigarbox ukulele.

Right now, I'm on a train gradually crossing the state line from North Carolina into Virginia: The scenery is whizzing by. I can hear the horn blowing. I'm listening to the Boy Harsher remix of Danny Elfman's “Happy” for the umpteenth time, and enjoying the suspension of belief that I'm growing ever so slightly deranged (I'm so happy… happy… happy…) I'm wearing a black beret on my head stitched with the word HAPPY, my black leather jacket, black cloth jeans, and old brown round-toed doc marten boots…the latter three of which have been reduced to besoiled paint-rags.

At present, I'm surviving on kindness of clients, kindly patrons, and my brother, because I've recently blown up my life…only to find a new one waiting for me.

I am sharing things on here again because I've grown so tired of Instagram. I'm tired of Twitter. Of fawning for the algorithms, and frankly, anyone…

Except you, the one reading this…because it's always been about you…in fact, you're the one I blew my life up for.

You're my true love…I'm sorry I ever doubted you…I'm sorry I went away. I'm going to disappoint more people. When I decided to become a participant in life instead of a spectator, that was part of this Faust pact.

But I never, ever, want to let you down again…after all, you've always been there for me.