I would like to thank all those people who made my life a living hell up to now!!!! If it wasn't for them, I would have come up with any of this stuff.

I would admit to having schizophrenia, but I am sure that the people around me who posed as my friends, tortured me to the point of breakdown. Even up to now. Life is very chaotic, when people set traps for the happy go lucky.

I am paranoid, but I know if I wasn't someone would be around the corner with a snare. So I have to watch my step. I don't think it is a conspiracy, but everyone has there own agenda. Lots of jealous people who feel that there life isn't as good, so they got to make waves. Bad kharma.

So here I am, venturing into a dark world, not knowing exactly what is ahead. I have to trust that people will walk me through it, without throwing me off a ditch.

As the story goes, I was not allowed to coexist with my fellow human beings, for some reason I was ousted, cause of something peculiar. I spend most of my early years trying to make some connection between me, and them. I realize we live in a hostile enviroment. We are controlled, and manipulated by a specific breed of person. They don't talk about it openly. If you are a target then you will be ostracized first, then ignored. Social death.

What they don't understand is when someone is neglected in society, they die. But then they are reborn with a keen intellect and spirit. They become artists, or great thinkers.

We live in an old world. We are ruled by narrow minded hypocrites, who have been basking in the sun for much too long to realize, that there time is up. It is time to change hands. Power shift. The meek shall inherit the earth, and so forth.

An excerpt from an early Trixie work...(2005)

In a world where blatant hedonism has run rampant...

"---She comes to us in our dreams, from the sky. Riding on a white beam of light, with a mischievous grin. Her lips reveal the secrets we so much want to hear, and to know. That which was lost in the natural understanding of the universe. Through a whisper, through a wave of her hand, it is all revealed.

---While you were sitting there so long, while the buzzards circled above, while time hung heavy on your shoulders, does she ride on the crest of a wave. She will wash it all away. Hope lies ahead. Love walks hand, and hand with all of us.

---So sad we sit alone in a crowd. So sad through those dark times we trudge along the wasteland by ourselves.To discover what? That we are divided amongst the others. Locked away from seeing what is real, and magical!

---Shedding what skin you had left behind. There is a fire that burns inside. There is a sun that shines.

---And here she comes, in a hush, a sparkle. She will lift you from those ditches of despair. She'll be there when no has been. When the buzzards recognized you.

---From an endless stream of thought she is created. From a hum, from a smile. The softness of her cheeks may have you reconciled. But don't be fooled, for the wickedness trapped inside the memory of all of our lives grows like a weed. And she has the knife to cut it out like the cancer that it is!

Deep into the azure sky, deep into the endless bottom of the ocean does imagination take flight. Where there is dark, let the sparks of your mind release you. Let the bats turn to doves. Let your thoughts dance. Lose yourself, or whatever spirit that binds you. Forget about that which ails you. We are always all so free!"



The Gypsies tease my soul,
As the fireflies decorate the trees.
And the moon gives me no reason to talk,
As I sit in idle contemplation in the dark.
But sparks fly in my minds release.
And the inspiration turns into beads of perspiration.
On my knees,
Pouring through me like a waterfall on a sunny day,
The bats turn to doves,
And the sky turns into a majestic Ocean of blue.
My thoughts turn on themselves,
as if Angered by the mere thought of distraction.
And dance. For me, and for you


A mushroom trip gone bad...(1998)

Oh my God
Everything turned bad.
the air grew thin,
and everything turned sad.
The music turned off.
The stars dissappeared.
Oh God, where did you go.
You we're replaced with an ugly face,
screaming, and crying, calling my name,
with no where to run, and no where to hide.
With knocking knees, and convulsive spasm.
No tears of joy, but twitches of madness.
From still water to raging torrent.
Who am I, where am I, what did I do.
"Now is the time... the time has come for you!!!!
Oh opening white light,
I heard of you,
but now is not the time.
I have no time for you!!!
The tug of war began.
Convulsive spasms again.
My face turned pale with a ghostly terror stricken fear.
All has gone wrong, again, and again.
What did I do, I followed your way.
All has gone wrong, again, and again.
The night grew darker with a sinister haze.
A red dark light filling the left side of my gaze.
The devil grew swift.
He dived off of my tongue, and said.
"You are not ready to leave now,
stay where you are at instead!!!!


The Boy Who Wanted To Touch The Sun(1998)

There once was a boy who wanted to touch the sun.
Every day in the school yard, instead of playing with his friends, he would jump up, and down, trying to touch the
gleaming circle in the sky.
All of his friends watched him curiously.
They asked him, “What are you trying to do?”
Huffing, and puffing he answered them,
“I am trying to touch the sun!”
“You’re trying to touch the sun”, they responded laughing aloud.
“You can’t touch the sun!” They all said to him, “It’s impossible!”
The boy stopped jumping, and turned to them saying, “It’s possible.”
“No it’s not!” They replied.
“Yes it is”, the boy said with force, and frustration.
“Your impossible”, they all shouted as they turned their backs, walking
away, chuckling to themselves.
The boy stood there thinking, feeling alone, discouraged, and depressed.
He sank to the ground, from the weight of his friend’s words, and started to cry.
But the rays of the sun shined on him, drying the tears on his cheeks, calling him as they always did.
The boy started to jump up, and down, with more effort, than he ever
thought he had. Just when he thought he had no strength left inside, the
sun came down to him, and rested on his head, lifting his heart, filling him
With wonder, and excitement!
“I did it, I did it”, he shouted.
The other children looked at him in wonder. They had no choice, but to believe in him, cause everywhere he went, or walked, he glowed with a
brilliance, that only the sun could have.
From that day on, every boy, and girl who knew him, even those who laughed, tried everyday to jump up, and try to touch the sun.

The End

The Boy Who Wanted To Touch the Sun(version 2)(2006)

By Michael D’Orazio

There once was a boy named Rama. Everyday when it was recess at school, he would jump up and down trying to touch the sun. One day one of the bullies said to him, in front of his other classmates, “What are you doing? Do you have to go to the bathroom?” They all laughed at him. Rama stopped
what he was doing, and addressed the bully, saying, “No,
I am trying to touch the sun!”
“You can’t touch the sun”, the bully said.
“It is impossible”.
“Anything is possible, and if you want something bad
enough, you’ll get it”, Rama said.
Frustrated, and annoyed with Rama’s determined response, he picked up a stone, and threw it at him. Soon all the classmates were throwing stones at him, calling him
names, laughing at him.
Rama, determined to finish his journey, started to jump up, and down, yearning for the sun’s energy. After being pelted with a few stone’s, Rama felt an energy mount up his spine, filling him with anger. A wave of light cloaked his body in flames. His eyes flickered like a
The bully, and the other classmates, took one look at him,
and ran in fear. For they could not understand what had happened.
After being left alone, Rama felt an indescribable joy, overwhelming his senses. After that he no longer felt the need
to reach, and touch the sun.

The End.

The Boy who went through hell.(2006)

There once was a boy who was lured by a woman with the promises of
love and affection. She convinced him that she was in love with him,
by having sex with him, and faking her orgasms.

When he wasn't looking, she sent her minions of other lovers to destroy
him. They took him out to a shack in the middle of no where, and beat
him severely.

They brought him into town, and said he was a sodomite. They hung
him in the town square with all the townsfolk watching.

They took his body and threw it into an open grave, without a coffin.
They did not cover him with dirt.

A dark spirit sent by God snuck into his body, and he came alive. His
skin was pale, and his eyes we're dark.

He crawled out of the grave, and made is way home.
He sat down in a easy chair, and acted like nothing had happened.
He wasn't the same person. He thought alot about what he went
through, grabbed a pen and paper, and wrote the story down.

The End.

The Mind(1998)

Fruit ripens under the rays of the sun,
and is irrigated through it's stem.
The fruited tree's origin is rooted in the earth,
but grows upward away.

The Monster who would not leave(1998)

There once was a monster who would not leave me be.
Everywhere I went, he would follow me.
He’d sit there on my shoulders, and whisper in my ear.
He told me awfully, horrible things. He taught me to fear.
Afraid to talk to my friends, and yet too scared to be alone.
He discouraged me from my homework, so bored I just groaned.
The monster grew bigger, til he pinned me to the floor.
And when I got angry, he just grew more.

“If I can’t do my homework, why don’t you help?”
This I asked the monster, the monster said, “Yes!”
He helped me with my studies, and helped me read all my books,
And when he grew smaller, I tried not to look.
When I finished he shrank to the size of a pea.
I put him in my pocket.
Never again, will the monster get the better of me.


Sink deep into the fiery pits of thine mind,
but don't sink too deep,
thine ass might be on the line!!!

M.D (1998)

Little Brother(1998)

Oh little brother, how much you've grown.
Killing things with your swatter.
I will leave you alone.
Prove it to the world,
and make it all known.
That there is more than that the eyes can see.
Your swatter strength is stronger than the tiniest bee.
You stand tall, and swing with the greatest of ease.
With smile on your face, so proud.
You want me to see.
So now why do you run, tripping over your feet in fear.
With the bees behind you, and a stinger in your rear.


Let Go to that which you cannot hold(1999)

Jake, the old, bald, and grey haired man,
has lost the use of his right hand.
He limps around from bench to bench,
with whiskey in his left,
and without a care.
And learning of his hearing impaired,
through all of those years of wear.
You must let go,
of that which you can never hold.

And Marisa, with her beauty, once remarked upon.
With her long, soft, and curly golden
sunshine hair.
Now caurse, and all tangled.
With a prunish grin, and droopy chin,
and her arthritic knuckles, all so mangled.
"Time will take us all"
She says to those seeming so vain,
and says no different to those so plain.
You must let go of that which you can never hold.

As the newborn dies,
or those companions who do nothing more than lie.
Great leaders shot,
they fall.
And forests cut down, til there is no trees left at all.
Or like money changing hands,
it happens all the time.
You must let go of that which you cannever hold.



Oh God, how I long for storm.
A twister, a hurricane,
some kind of chaotic storm.
The waters just a kind of calm.
Give me some kind of out of control,
kind of, not figured out kind of form,
to shake it up.
God, you want me to see,
what hasn't yet been seen.
Give it to me.
through ferment,
through what you've made.
In the fields,
in the fruit,
but only from what you've made.


Radio instructions of the Mind...(1998)

Look at me
I followed all the rules.
The way it worked,
the way it read.
The way I read it.
I hit the switch.
I plugged it in.
I turned it up.
I tuned it down.
Look at me now.
You'd never believe,
in a hundred years.


Coffee Place(1998)

Talking, Chit Chatterly.
Rustling, with cups,
And foaming with glasses.
Mindless talking, with a blender
In the rear.
Clacking on the tile floor.
The music, and the moon.
Hello, goodbye,
See you later.
Coughing and complaining.
Bitching and moaning,
And whistling too.



So why are you scared?
And could you tell me what you saw.
Freak of nature,
but of nature,
something from what we all are from.
Maybe you saw what will become.
The dark ghost that replaced my face,
scared me,
and not just you.
What can I say,
there is nothing anyone can do.
You're not just scared of me,
you're also scared of yourself.
Your future, your life,
and everything else.


Thoughts on a Love Affair(2006)

Love is a temporary solution to ones wretched outlook on life. It is sort of like drug, which has a withdraw like effect when it resides. It is a blurb of fantasy like wonderment. It is beautiful, but only lasts a definite length of time. When you wake up from it, you feel a little depressed, and you wonder what just really happened???

After my love affair was over, I wen't back to my previous state of boredom, and became somewhat of myself again. I was changed, in that all the ambition, and creative urges we're slightly dampened, and left to feel worthless.

When it was over, I knew it before it happened, and expected that would change my prior feelings to the girl. One moment I thought this might change things completely, but really after it made things seem even more dreary.

I hope this made all you love seekers happy...

I don't think I will ever marry, but I will have affairs with married women. This is not my choice though, because I am the one who misses out. I am temporary relief for women who have stale relationships, and need to breath a little.

I guess I am not marriage material, although I wish I was. Why???

Maybe it is my position in life. I am not rich, and I have had my share of suffering. I work crappy jobs, which I learned to adapt to and love(cause they are all I really have). I am not really a respected person in the community, which makes me somewhat of a nobody. I am also someone who you would meet on the streets. All my personal accomplishments are worth only to one person(me), and maybe a handful of people who worship me as a freethinker(or a slut).

I also thought being an artist, or a musician would open up some opportunities in the future. But to no avail, it is only a cheap novelty that usually wears of in a very short incrimint of time.

When ever I have a good thing going, I alway ruin it as fast as I can, cause probably I don't deserve it.

Everytime I have a girlfriend, or a love affair, I always think "Is she going to be the one"????

After the intoxicating part is over, I realize it really doesn't matter. Cause this cycle will happen over, and over again.

I am hoping when I reach a ripe stage of my maturity, some fool girl will say "Oh now he is a man". What I mean by maturity, is I won't be going around shoving my accomplishments in peoples faces. But if I had no accomplishments, then I would be probably a better candidate, cause frankly, no girl wants to compete with your personal interests.

The girl was pretty. And she was attractive, although I thought she was a little insecure, cause evertime I turn around she was in the bathroom putting on make up to doll herself up.

She said she was 22, and she has I.D to prove it, but honestly, I think she is a liar, cause she looks about my age, at 35. You cant' fool someone for long. Sooner or later people find out. And I can't come out and say it, cause if she was 22, and I was wrong, It might be considered as rude, or an insult.

I wish I could read everthing I am writing about, and speak it at open mic nights at my local coffee venue. If anyone knows her like I do, they will either laugh, or look at her in horror, that I unveiled her secret.

Evertime I make a friend I hang out with them to learn something new, and interesting. Give me a different perspective, a different swing on things. Keep me young.

If they don't have anything to give, as far as love, or info, or anything, I usually sababtage the relationship. I used to hate myself for doing that, and I condemned myself on many occasions, but now it is just the way of things. I consider it a normal human behavior.

Some people keep the same friends for most of there lives. I never could understand it. Why hang on??? Are you scared to let them go??? Sting said, if you love someone, set them free. And yes I look deep within the lyrics of songs, cause I am looking for some advice from someone who isn't just trying to fuck me.

Sometimes I feel like people lie to be in relationships, and to keep relationships. Lies are not permanant. They faid, and the truth no doubt reveals itself. It is really a no win situation. People have no faith, and no belief that everything will turn out okay if they believe in the predestined arbitrary of human destiny. I believe nature or God has a plan. Flowers bloom, no matter what the weather is, I think. Maybe the bugs eat them??, or do they wait for them to bloom???

Anyways, it doesn't matter what the outcome, as long as we tried to maintain order. Too many people try to push my buttons, and make my calm ordered life a mess, which brings me back to why I let them go in the first place. They are devils. Devils raise hell. They made me into a devil. Cause now I raise hell, but only to those who stir it up.


The Day I met a prostitute who shot dope(2004)

I got off work early, cause I was feeling a bit delusional.
I was off any medication, for many days.
I drove my car into Norristown, a debauched town full
of everything bad.
I stopped at a quik-e-mart to buy a pack of cigarettes.
That's something I don't normally do, for I never really smoke.
I leaned against my car smoking two cigarettes, when
some young woman(obnoxious) approached me soliciting sex.
She walked away, and then an older woman approached me doing the same.
She asked me if I wanted to do something, and I said yes.
So I got a room, a block down, and she wanted me to
give her $20, so she could pick up something to smoke.
She said weed, but it later turned out to be heroin.
We went back to the room, and she injected herself with the poison.
It didn't bother me, though I made up my mind not to touch her sexually.
She could have had a disease from shooting drugs, or being a prostitute.
She was pretty old.
Probably in her late 40's, or early 50's.
She was missing all her teeth, in the upper part of her mouth.
Probably from using speed, or crack,
cause she smoked that too while we hung out.
We talked about spiritual issues, and God.
She asked me what I liked to do.
I said, "Just talk, and smoke cigarettes."
She asked me if she could go out and get coffee, and cigarettes.
I gave her another $20.
She came back with one cup of coffee, and no change.
I didn't ask her for it.
The room cost $50, I gave her $40, plus another five.
when I dropped her off at a local bar so she could have a drink.
This all happened around 6:00 am to 11:00 am.
She asked me if I wanted to smoke the drugs, but I said
no. The whole time I was paranoid, that she was going
to slip me something so she could steal my wallet, or my car.
Silly me.


Doing what you wanna do(2004)

I feel like there is a weight on my mind.
I wish I could go outside the lines.
I'm on a narrow path.
Stray too far, and I'll get lost.
Walk a straight line, and I'll get there faster, and easier.
Sometimes I wish,
really quickly,
turn left.
And run really fast.
Go where you wanna go!!
Fuck everyone!!
Do what you wanna do!!
No matter the consequences!!
Yeah, and go through what I went through again??


Recollections of High School(2004)

written to Lauren Jane Murphy, a girl I met on the internet

I kind of thought about what you said about music,
when you were in high school.
All I remember was when I was a sophmore.
Someone handed me a mix tape. It had
Suicidal Tendencies, Violent Femmes, and
Murphy's Law on it.
Right away I liked what I heard(except for the Femmes,
cause there we're a little too gay for me, and whiney).
So I started to dress weird, in that I started to think about
what I wore. I then started to hang out with people who had
similar interests in music. Before this I had not so many friends.
I began to hang out with metal heads, punkers, goth chicks, and later
with some hippies(which I couldn't relate too), and they had a hard
time accepting me for who I was. But that is a different story.
I began to hang out in dark clubs, where I met a lot of different
individuals. They all like wierd music, and like to dress strange.
Let's just say I had a lot of friends at this time
I was even in a band I was so popular. I gigged the city.
I had a slutty girlfriend, and I always had something interesting to do.
Now that is all over.
But I hate to say it. I feel I was a successful.
There was a time I did hit rock bottom,
But what are highs, without some lows?!!


The Failure of Being an Artist in Today's Society(2009)

Forced out of jobs, terrorized by the public, forced into mental clinics, then forced into bars, alcohol, then physical torture. These are only some of the things I had to deal with being an artist in southeast Pennsylvania.

I have been working as an artist much of my life, drawing, and sketching, playing
music, and so forth. I followed these pursuits not knowing there was
something wrong with my personality. Till this day I am not sure, only that I know
that I was diagnosed with a mental disorder called "schizophrenia".

I held jobs for most of my life, but I changed them frequently feeling "bored" and
"fried", by hectic job atmospheres, that we're mechanical, and
repetitive. I never got anywhere, and I never moved up.

I went to Montgomery County Community College after I graduated high school,
trying to get a feel for who, or what I wanted to be. Being an artist was always an option,
cause of my lack of support, or interest in other subjects, such as math which I have never
been able to do that well. Also growing up in a conservative family, and attending a very
oppressive catholic school I had no other way to express my grief, and frustrations. I later
felt forced to continue on my artistic journey.

I fell into some musical bands as a singer, but was set up for being a failure,
by acquaintances I didn't know very well, that took advantage of my dreams, exploiting me,
then discarding me like nothing every happened.

After I realized that being in a band was a hostile occasion I attended
the University of the Arts, where I studied Illustration. I wanted to be a cartoonist,
but the only thing closest they offered was children's book illustration.
So I began drawing horrific illustrations, which were supposed to be for children.

My mental state at this time, was very agitated from social chaos, and alienation.
I was much of a loner at this time, and had to frequently dodge situations, from
abuse from past relationships.

I attended the University for three years under the extreme pressure to do well,
cause I paid for most of my college between loans, and grants, and the money I made
from waiting tables. I did not party during college, and spent little time hanging out
with other classmates "having fun" as I would call it. After leaving what friends I had
behind, I began frequenting coffee shops to maintain some semblance of socializing.
There I did alot of my homework. I received a 3.5 average, and Dean's list.

After graduating from the University my parents felt that my mental state was
declining so they sent me to the "Building 50", a crisis center in Norristown, when
I "acted up". There I spent time with other people with conditions worse than mine.
It seems that there is little help for people except to convince them they have low
self esteem, and administer them medications to calm down any problem they might
have (never really getting to the bottom of it).

I spent much time before this just sitting around drawing, scared that I wouldn't be
able to support myself in the future, or not have what everyone has which is a family,
or a place to live.

I wasn't sure if there we're jobs doing art that I could do, so I could make a steady paycheck.
One time I was offered a job at an advertising agency, and the owner told me that I would have
to "lose my style", as he put it, after paying me 400 dollars on two simple pieces of artwork.
He said he would bring me into his company, but I declined on the basis that the only thing an
artist has is his style.

After going in and out of mental clinics, receiving medication, and many different diagnosis's,
I was eligible for Social Security Disability. I was told by my father that working was healthier,
and that I should get a job again. So I applied to Home Depot, and took a job working overnights.

At Home Depot I worked really hard, packing out paint two nights a week, then packing out
everything else the rest of the week. I was lucky enough to have work companions to keep me
company through the late hours. After two years of this it took it's toll on me. My only social life was hanging
out at the Sunrise Diner after work, talking with all of the senior citizens. I did hang out with a friend of my sister's
named Brian, and we went out maybe one night a week, going to bars, or maybe to see a band play.

After breaking my foot, after being told to carry a huge box of aluminum vents, I retired
from overnights. I began to work in the day selling paint, and paint products taking on the heavy
workload by myself, which ultimately burned me out. I walked out after realizing I couldn't keep
it up any longer.

I tried to get different jobs, trying to find one that was low pressure, but every time I received
one they worked me to death while everyone else just stood around smoking cigarettes. That was
the end of it. I applied for S.S.D. After applying twice I received a monthly income without having
a schedule.

After receiving Social Security benefits, one must find something to do to fill his time, and there
is a lot of pressure in that. Falling into bars is a very easy thing to do, wasting time, drinking, and
having a good time of that.

Thank you Social Security!!!!


The day I got a back adjustment by Doc Fred.(2009)

That damn Fred, him and his smooth talk. I swear to God I
thought alot about chiropractics, and thought well I'm sure it has it's
uses, but I once told an acquaintance at the bar that along with correcting
backs, he could also ruin backs as well.

I didn't know much about Fred accept he was a smooth talker, and very
fast for that matter. He told me he fought in the jungle in Vietnam,
in the rice patties, against the Viet Cong, which I thought was
very impressive. His favorite drinks we're Gimlets, and Foster's
beer, which he drank often in front of me, telling me silly jokes.
"What did the fish say when he hit the concrete wall???
DAMN!!!" I tried to remember most of his jokes, but was unable,
cause I have a bad memory for such things.

He had a Trans Am outside which was past it's prime, but was still functional
for getting him to and from his office everyday. Between jobs he
would come into the bar, cause his office was in the same building.
I am not sure if he was drunk when he administered his
adjustments, but one day I came to visit him to drop off a cd cover
that belonged to a cd of music that I gave him at the bar.

While I was in his office, I talked with him about his practice,
and listened to some of the music that he plays while he worked.
After I was ready to leave, he told me "let me give you an adjustment".
Against my proper judgment, and thinking, I practically ran
to the table, like a mindless idiot, or a pig to the slaughter, and
let him give me two adjustments, without examination, and without
proper questioning about my back history, or problems, which
were none.

After I let him do this, I went back to the bar wondering why
this had happened. I never did anything to instigate anyone to hurt me.

My back felt disaligned, and I felt an extreme discomfort, as I led the
next few months in pain, wondering what I did to deserve this.
I told my girlfriend about my problem, and she told me the only reason
why he gave me an adjustment in the first place was to keep having me
come back. Which I find so damn
hard to believe that someone would fuck up your back on purpose
so he could stay in business. My attitude toward the guy went from
respect to disgust.

I thought about going to another chiropractor to correct the problem,
but I thought well maybe this is like someone kicking the shit
out of you, like being victimized by a beating of some sort.

Ever since the adjustment I have been exercising my back regularly
to help with the pain and discomfort. I still feel like by back is crooked.

P.S. Maybe working out my back will help me lose my beer
belly, Cheers!!!


Why the music business will fail(2009)

Why do we have to listen to the music they drill in your heads
at supermarkets, and bars, and retail stores? Why are we forced
to listen to music by artists who we don't know, or even care
about? What did they do to earn our respect and support?

I never bought music that I heard incidentally at retail stores, or heard
on the radio. The only time I ever loved a group is when I was introduced
to them formally by a friend, or someone who was eager to introduce a
band that was exciting, or original, and interesting. There are
exceptions to that rule as long as the radio station support artists who perform
music that is real, and judge them for that reason. Such bands
as my favorite "Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds" of whom I liked alot for
there ability to do what they want, rather than cater to the
trends of what's popular on the radio. There are not many bands that can hold my interest, but
they are one of them. Nick Cave's early music is something that I wanted to create when I was seventeen years old, that and Danzig.

When I was younger I sang in a band, writing music that was considered
a little "dark". I thought the music we created was challenging,
and yet reminiscent of the times. And I was very excited to be
apart of it. The band didn't last not cause we failed, but because one of the
founding members decided to leave for unknown reasons.

I couldn't understand why we broke up, only that I felt
"unsatisfied". "The Burning", which I called ourselves, wrote
about real topics, whether people felt it was appropriate or not.
That is the only thing I could think of. Maybe we we're a hot
item, risky, that we should be left behind. I think our job wasn't so
much to entertain, but to make the listener think about things.
Maybe even corrupt the thinker.

"H.I.V" was one of the songs I wrote that hit upon the idea that
maybe sex wasn't so dangerous, and that maybe loving ur brother
wasn't so dirty as they might depict. The sexual revolution was over
when they introduced A.I.D.S to the media, and I was petrified
that the one thing that I loved the most was having sex with a

Was it population control? Was it oppression against the forming
of unity, and love, I don't know. I felt deprived after the rumor
that I was gay came out, and everyone assumed that I was diseased.
I was alienated, and isolated, as a result of desires for the opposite sex.
We all know that rumors, and gossip can be used as a weapon
in the community, and society.

Art, and writing, is also a tool to express personal grief, and frustration.
It can also be used to speak out against social injustices, and
criminal behavior that goes unnoticed by authorities who
are unaware that there is a deviance forming, that affects the health
of certain individuals or groups.

The trouble with getting gigs for the individual artist who wants to
start off a career in music is that the venues are owned by rich families
who only support the people in their clans and families. They will not tell
you this, and being an artist in the public eye it is necessary to belong to
these groups. It doesn't matter how good you are, or how you've grown as an artist.
You will have to find ways of promoting yourself with the resources you
have, or your friends have.

I do feel as though the real voice that should be heard are those who suffer, and
have little means to support themselves, to transcend hardship, and social class.

The music business can dictate what you should listen to, but you don't have to
listen to them. Support your local artists, and musicians, even if they are not supported
by the local rich.