PRINCESS CHARMING

INSPIRED BY BYTCH PROBLEMS

I found myself thinking of her everyday and wondering if it was really love or was it infatuation. The bee had lit upon the flower. I knew that it could be real, but did she? Did it matter?

Make it real and she will be real.

Everybody comes into your life for a particular purpose and one cannot allow another person’s wants to cloud what it is that they have to do in life. One just has to be honest with themselves in that regard and not think that it is some great big and/or bad thing. It is what it is.

As for me, I am filled with so much love and so much guilt and so much desire and so much ambition that I have often been paralyzed by it and was waiting for a Princess Charming to come and give me the kiss to break me out of the slumber. The inability to action, the frustration, the fist clenching table pounding frustration that can overcome one’s drive if unchecked.

I know what I have done wrong and I move to stop doing it. Although at times it seems I can’t do it all by myself, even though I am capable, because I am compelled by other factors to divide my strength. Or was I making excuses?

One must know that they are working it out and life changes the rules all the time, so what the fucking difference does it make? Life cheats. But life is an illusion.

Patient. Detached. Always Fearless. But Feel-Less, not quite.

We may be Fearless
but we have Feelings

Enta Tha Stage

As artists we are continually on a quest to find new ways to express ourselves, ferreting out new easels upon which to place our canvasses. This is one of the success factors of the great social experiment of the weblog, places where the world’s Doogie Howsers end the shows of their daily existence typing some life lesson onto a computer screen and, with the push of a button, make it available to the entire world and not just the television audience. While Neil Patrick Harris and his hokey background music has given way to Rev. Run thumbing out words of wisdom while sitting in a bubble bath, the need to self-express and be heard remains.

Sociologists of the future will have a wealth of information from which they will cull their analysis of the 21rst century. Time capsules are no longer some concrete items placed in the cornerstone of a given structure, everyone can create their own in the realms of cyberspace. Bloggers chronicle the everyday from the mundane to the profound, and while some may just follow the light, many will evolve into beacons hailing historians to examine the hallowed halls of their word-processed recollections. Those future souls who will write the tomes of our times, will surely have their work cut out for them as they sift through the masses of data this age of information expends.

Thus I must pound my keys and keep myself in tune. Thus I must chronicle the creativity. Thus I must publish or perish, fasting and praying that the Darwinistic forces that separate the wheat from the chaff of the blogosphere propel these words to eternity.

I am the phoenix.

I rise from the ashes of
the masses of them asses.

I am Dasun.

www.myspace.com/dx21