Autonepiophilia: An Aborted Entry

     August 2010 was a weird month for me.  Mercury rolled into retrograde.  Murphy's Law was in full effect.  My cell phone damn near exploded in my hand.  As a result, I decided to stand back and sit outside of the chaos; staying at bay until it was safe to resume my life.
     Waiting until the cosmic smoke cleared, my mind started to function in an odd fashion.  For some reason, I began to process old, outdated emotions.  I got angry at things that happened years ago.  I whined about being misunderstood in elementary school.  I tried to slap a bitch I met in college.  I realized I was incredibly backed up, constipated, if you will.  I had volumes of emotional shit crammed deep into the hidden colon of my mind...And without my permission my subconscious started to do some cleansing!
      As a means to manage these chaotic feelings flowing from me, I attempted to write.  Since I was born without tear ducts, I needed an outlet for this cry baby throwing fits inside of me.  I needed a receptacle to air my expired grievances.  So I jumped on my laptop and let my Mama have it!

"I could've been Miles Davis,
If you would've let me practice indoors."

"I could've been a published author,
I you would've read my childhood novels.
Instead you encouraged me to keep my writing to one page."

"I could've been..."
"I could've had..."
"I could've lived..."

     This was news to me.  I didn't know I had so much resentment towards my mother.  Before then, I thought she did a banged up job of raising three sons on her own; turns out she sucked...Or at least my inner child thought so.  In the days to come, he also open fired on my father, ex-girlfriend and previous employer.  At the lethal force propelling each shot: "I could've been so much more."
     Before clicking the 'publish' button; the truth dragged me back to reality.  Not discounting my feelings or personal history, the entry sounded...obituary.  As if my potential was spoiled, my proposed destiny was irretrievable.  I may be much older than the infant screaming from within, but I'm not dead yet!

I can still be Miles Davis
Thanks to my mother's restrictions, I will play much louder!

I can still be a published author
I've had much time to develop and perfect my craft.

I can be...
I can be...
I will be...still.

     I do feel much better, now that it's all out of my system.  I've been operating much smoother without the accumulated frustration of what "could've been".  I will make more of an effort to experience my emotions, instead of storing it away to fester.  September feels more harmonious already.

     The art posted above is from Alberto Rugolotto's "Decadence" and "Metamorphosis" featuring my muse and friend, Sasha Marini.  Rugolotto's work is so poignant because of his commitment to his expressive concepts.  Marini's role in his vision is less of a model and more of an instrument; casting his beauty aside, Sasha channels the deeper, more agonizing tone of Decadence. 
     Keep an eye out for an upcoming interview with Sasha; you'd be surprised to hear what he thinks of the fashion industry, modeling and himself.  He is an interesting departure from vainglory.   

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