I feel like the universe is stripping me of everything one follicle at a time.
It is a bit like dying, but very, very, very slowly.
Strip my love.
Then my hate.
Strip my desires.
Then my needs.
Where does it end?
When there is nothing, nothing, nothing.
Somewhere, the heart of Compassion beats still in my heart.
Maybe that's why I look like a Zen Monk.
But then, I also look like Anton LeVey and Alaister Crowley.
It's all the lies over so many years.
They come tumbling down like a house of cards.
The rage against 'it' that made me be a bald Zen Monk...
Might simply be building up.
I listen to Aztec Dances as I write this..
To give my fingers strength, strength to tell the truth.
The Wedding.
Renata Calls.
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