ItsallFICTION
Put me in a bowl of milk and I’ll be your cereal
“I love Virginia.” “Put me in a bowl of milk and I’ll be your cereal.”
These are actual phrases I witnessed with my own disbelieving eyes.
As long as people continue to find satisfaction in reading posts about me snorting massive lines of Charlie, trying to tear down my own friends (whom I truly love with all my heart), intoxicating them with chemicals, and sending circus clowns to fuck themselves—I’ll keep things exactly as they are.
There is nothing more appalling than realizing that someone living in New Zealand, for example, or a guy from China, or someone from Morocco, can find solace and entertainment in your rants.
I want to vouch for myself here: once you implant talent in a person’s mind, it usually tends to grow. The only real enemy is yourself—or becoming “the victim of your own demise.”
Keep reading me, guys. I still have a lot of stories to tell, and for a long time to come.
I hope the message in my writing won’t be misunderstood. I hope that, like William S. Burroughs’ Dr. Benway, characters like Buck will be seen as figures for reflection—mirrors of our own human weaknesses and the paroxysm that inhabits most of us (if not all).
On Judgment and the Misunderstood
It is all too easy to label people as bad — those who, involuntarily, through the absence of a guiding figure, or simply through a lack of judgment and critical thinking, found themselves caught in the middle of truly dangerous situations, surrounded by truly dangerous people.
This world is full of psychotic, mentally exhausted souls desperately seeking attention, selling nonsense to the public. Yet those who, through nothing more than an unlucky chain of events, found themselves immersed in what can only be described as real hell on earth and who emerged from it with their authenticity intact are labelled by the audience as mad, bad, sadistic.
No one can understand how these unfortunate souls spent their lives trying to break free from certain circles of people, from certain situations. Moving from Europe to the States, from the States to China, from China to India, from India to Paris, from Paris to Taipei, from Taipei to Penang, from Penang to the UK, from London to Thailand. People who run and move continuously in this way are sending a signal to the world: we are prisoners, we are unwanted witnesses, we are fugitives.
Do not judge them.
It may be difficult perhaps profoundly so but please remember that each and every one of these poor souls is running, trying to escape hell, in search of real love. And precisely because of what they have endured, they are more capable than anyone else of understanding, holding, and giving Love real Love, with a capital L.
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