I confess they were
there my co-writers
assisgned, named
and accepted sometimes
there, an inspiration that was old
and new, the old was an story in my
head, a white ominous looking yet a lucky charm hand made 30s statue
will it sell? I thought many times in the magical
second hand store
Having given my self a job, a payless but rewarding job
I felt sad, very sad and excited at the same time, feeling
the pain of a bipolar disorder, the voices were not my own
listening to these voices there was a connection
a joy and pleasure yet also digust: " love has found me", I am recieving information
from a new world, my ordinary world was rejoicing at the luck
The meetings of an inner child, a young self, an older person, the desire to
have a magical life, of travel, language and music, of freedom, liberty
and democracy, having opened a portal through sheer laughter and play
I was suddenly speaking to the dead, movies I saw of people who died long ago
came to mind and I kept thinking about the dead people, my mind said it was nothing
this is not serious, skip this and focus on your corporate career, go to college, finish your Masters Degree
The all consuming relentless energy kept me busy, the voices interesting, sometimes scary meanings
made me dig deeper, all I wanted was to feel special and this was a way: talking to the dead and hearing voice
Freedom, democracy is running life line in my life, mine was disciplined life, the must and shoulds
overwhelming voices in my head, geopolitics that was awaring me of the stakes: China, 911 ( Sepetember 11), the perceptions of the world superpowers
A Universe that was talking to me through inner voices, and people
a soul learning and dealing with an inpatient mind, and a slight disregard for history
sometimes a lack of appreciation of the difficulty involved in understanding the "inexpressable"