The past is behind us, and we all know that there’s nothing you can do to change that.
So it’s odd that artists spend so much time living in the distant memory of a life they’ve already lived.
I’m currently in the process of completing my second book; no small task. Especially because this book is a very personal account of the crazy adventures and random circumstances I’ve encountered in my life thus far.
In order to accurately convey my story, I’ve spent a lot of time reliving terrible moments in my life––similar to re-watching any movie from the 80′s––you know there’s comedy somewhere in the mix; but you have to sift through a lot of shit before you get to the gold.
Essential I’m examining my life from a more clear point of view, and the majority of events that have transpired feel almost dreamlike.
“That couldn’t have really happened to me, did it?”
The answer, of course, is always, YES.
That was your life and somehow you maneuvered around it. Once I wrap my mind around that, I continue writing.
It’s oddly gratifying to liberate myself from past indiscretions; and also heartbreaking to relive a tragic moment.
In the end, the truth will always set me free.
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