The neurosis of western society is our incessant desire to cling to everything. We�ll in order to keep Nick D In Tha House Updated I must remove text and pictures to make way for new ones. So The Vault is my place to lock away these estranged beauties that I cling to. |
| The Vault |
| This is my first ever blog. How could I throw this away? This where it all started 10/28/02This world received a terror New Year's Day 1981 when this black haired, brown-eyed blob ejected from his mother's uterus--I've been kicking and screaming ever since. I read somewhere that this artist was glad he could write songs when he was young because by the time a person gets older our so-called tragic events get dismissed as..."Well that's life." With my 21 years of immaturity I have found that not to be true at all. Yes, I've learned to keep better grips on my composure but I'm still not immune to the child like emotion that was swiftly stowed upon my ass at birth...Slap! We'll you know what?..."That's life" and I hope a person never loses their whirlwind of feelings that he was gracefully bestowed with. Eight hours of droneous labor can take a toll and a person�s perspective on reality. Looking at where I've been and where I want to go I can see things have only begun. If I let this rat race of self-defeating short cuts cloud my vision then it would have been like traveling from point A to point B without experiencing the content. It would be like only being half alive. My views of someone else are only a reflection what is inside me and vice versa. This is why it's important to live true to oneself. It's the only way to be truly alive and not just a haphazard drone programmed by cable TV and societal tyrants, many of whom don't know your name. |
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| A man once told me to "use the force" and I've been big pimpin' ever since. Photo courtesy of Tim Kinnarid Bedroom Sessions. How could we throw away the intro pic? |
| 11/9/02 Inside the belly of N.Y. an angelic hand gusts by, carrying passengers to a platform. Crammed pushes and shoves are like a child�s playing poke, which aid in reminding a person that they are still alive. Fleshy clothes hangars clench to an overhead metal pole swinging in the wave of motion. Whoosh is the liberating sound of jarred walls. Twist and turns guide bouncy ball soles up the city�s throat and ejects them to florescent canvas of the night sky. New York has this magical contagious verve; a nurturing creative spirit quit unlike anywhere else I�ve ever been. This city is considered a melting pot of ethnicity and ideas and like any other elaborate recipe it made for a vibrant dish. In my journey of the Big Apple I was confronted by so much free spirited youth. Educated youngsters that took a path centered on their own passions. So many people were in college for �dead in subjects� like art, music, and clothes design. It created for a refreshing new view on reality. New York showed me that not everywhere lives the hypnotic spell of a bureaucratic society. Not everywhere does society subside dreams for comfort, monetary wealth for passion. It showed me a place where being your own individual, if that�s wearing black framed glasses and checkered pants, is completely accepted. The vibrancy for individuality was reflected in the myriad of clothing styles, in educated pursuit, and ethic culture. I only hope I can live in such a world before the juggernaut of Corporate America makes me a rigid bitter man because once that happens, if ever, will I truly be an old man. I love my sister and I�ll miss her tremendously but I�m glad she�s moving to this creative fostering atmosphere because now (20 years old) is her prime time to really flourish and find out what truly makes her heart beat. |