Dear Diary,
Is my mind more than a spot on the surface of a spherical flame? If so, how does its orbit establish my existence in relation to the emptiness of the void? Does it overcome insignificance and achieve true being, or does being simply achieve insignificance, overcome by truth? Are you there, God? It’s me, Cedric. I’m cold.
“Everything grows old under the power of Time and is forgotten through the lapse of Time.” Yet still the carnal desire to tour this September wells up within me, to educate the masses, the plebeians, the scum who remain ignorant to the sonic goddess that is my masculinity, personified through poetry. Fact: there are certain metaphysical truths which reveal themselves only in the Dionysian ecstasy of a half-hour bass solo. How long have I been in this room?
My dharma, through events set into motion before the dawn of time, has been to overcome my status as sidereal Libra, omnivore, and American, and, through sound, manifest eternal triumph. Mine was a virgin birth, for I am the child of pure art and unconditional strength. I can rise to this challenge. I can create light. I can. I can! I am man! I am art! It shall be!
Oh, to be!
xoxo,
Cedric Bixler-Zavala
