This Is What I Wrote In My Diary At 530AM In Berlin

Life is rather serendipitous these days, to say the least.

Most days I must excuse myself from the presence of others just to go take deep breaths. Sometime I even take off into the world on long jog/sprints. Just to root myself into this moment. At times this new found energy feels as if it longs to vibrate me off the planet.

This new found energy.

I’ve heard of it.

I’ve heard before a recount on the times in an person’s life when they knew they were at success’ door (whatever success means to a human).

These days I whisper about my actions more so than yell them. I wouldn’t have anyone make off with the energy required to maintain them. To be honest I wouldn’t relinquish this new found awareness for these future paychecks at all. It’s some type of sorcery to have this sight but most are so afraid to age to get here that they end up missing the necessary lessons to gain it.

To each their own.

All of these years humans have spent in wonder of magic. In love with the tales of Harry Potter, so much so that they rode brooms to the movie theatre on opening day. Quite funnily are the same humans that turn their back on the magic of this realm. The magic of their life. Their very own spells and wishes. Its all here.

Its always here.

All the time.

I also, am just a madman running around saying thanks these days. Which isn’t proper form for a place like Berlin or better yet most of Northern Europe. On of my main quarrels is that no one believes the nice guy act here. Or even believes that Southern charm to have ever existed at all. The lack of emotion in eyes of most humans walking the strasse or galleries is quite offensive to all that I am. Apparently to even speak kindly beyond this bit of opaque nature is a breach in cultural contract.

The Northern Europeans call it culture.

I think not speaking to humans you’re in close proximity of to be rude….and that’s just my god damned stance on that.

To each their own

I left home so many times and so long ago that I really have no recollection of the year I left, or truly how long I’ve been gone. I’m not a human for birthdays or holidays so I’m and entire trashcan at keeping up with the times.

Leaving home was out of necessity I hope my peers, my family, my associates and friends know this. I always speak of the magic that lie in Alabama and I hope you know this as well?

The kindness, the culinary arts, the Oak Trees, the summer thunder storms, the Gulf, the pace, the closeness of community and humans….

Le sigh, these days my work has become more than a thing of personal passion. As it shall always be this. I now turn most of my energy to the salvation of others. Those that look like me. Those that share similar aesthetic traits as I. Sometimes the refugees’ stories are so identical to mine I wonder if life for black people is simply fucked up no matter what continent we grew up on.

What I do know is, I’m happy that my humble street performances around the land have led me to “the good stuff”. This is “the work”. I can’t speak for every artist but there’s not too many better feelings that getting paid to create. However, an even greater feeling is being paid to create while saving the lives and speaking up for those humans who cannot do it for themselves.

Hmmm. My time is here…
I’m just grateful.

Hands To Heart