hip hop.

i can feel the flow now. don't ask me why. i'm not writing, it's not even that physical, it's all in my head. i see the possibilities, i see the potential. i see the passion, i see the power. i hear the other underground peeps and their flow is knocking me off my chair. i hear that they are real. i find courage and hope for this industry.
it's not all about bragging how many people you've killed, or how much bling you can afford. it's heart, soul and politics. it's about saving the world. honorable if you ask me.

//hip hop lover and lyricist.

this is a party to me.

last night was important to me. it was a mixture of serious, heartfelt talk about future and feelings, and a webcam-conversation about what we can do wrong and how to laugh at it when we grow older. it's going to be repeated tonight, with a touch of white wine and the feeling of relief not being shitfaced at some party soon forgotten by alcohol and a bad headache.
this is a party to me. a party for my soul.

no more, no less.

when people show you who they really are - believe them

that's all. said first by maya angelou.

who needs forever?

you love me now.

i can't talk about it, so i won't. the point is that i'd hide her under my bed if i had to. the point is you thanked god for my existence, for me being in your life. the point is that you're my best friend and i'd do anything for you.

it's true that love changes a person, and then it doesn't matter if it's friendship or true love. i was surprised of my own reaction when you told me everything today - and i'm happy the way i turned out, because of you. i was happy for you. truly, truly happy. this is what i always wanted for you, i know that now. i know you love me as much anyway, i know where you stand, who you are, what i am to you and vice versa. this is what i always wanted for you, so i'd do anything to make it all work out. don't be afraid to ask for that help, my friend.

ta ha loqken.

waking up at 2 pm

things aren't always what they should be. "things" seem to have a way of getting to you. i hate things.

today i won't have time to create, which seems no exeption to a rule, rather the rule itself. no wonder my body is telling me to slow down. my ideas pour over me at night, and the next morning i have no idea what the codes on my phone means. there might be a best-seller in there, in which ever way, novel, song, painting, but i can't understand it.

daytime i rush from one have-to to another dreaming of that single(!) glass of white wine and a blank paper and pen. at night i fall into bed laughing at jay or conan not doing anything creative.

i hate things. they have a way of keeping you from your heart's desire. but then again, i'd better trust ol' shaw.

"there are two great tragedies in life. one is losing your heart's desire, the other is to gain it."

//thing-hater.

the scream.

whatever fits.

being here.

me being here is not an act of fate.
do i write as an artist or a rebel?