Gold

I want to stay up all night and pound the streets.

Nothing is solid in life but the concrete

under my feet

I want to sit on a beach and watch the sun

rise over the sea. When all's said and done

I'll still be free

When life is filled with colour

how can people see in black and white?

Should I fight? I think might

just so that I can feel alive

How can I feel malcontent when I've been told

we've never had it so good; the future's gold.

Fuck what I'm told

I don't want to reaffirm all my choices

continually for all of my life but

I'm cursed to be free

And that's the way it has to be

unfortunately

Autobiography

He is but a man, although to define “man” is a task in itself. We can leave describing and defining man as a whole to the anthropologist. Our man is much easier to explain and describe, although perhaps his motives for behaviour are not as easily understood as, for example Dostoevsky's 'Prince'. Where behaviour and motive fulfil a story and its framework, this should be left to literary giants, for this is no story.

Our man has a name which not only affects how other perceive him but also how he sees himself. His parents had given him a name which reflected, perhaps unconsciously their hopes and dreams for this, their first child. All of the paths they feel they have missed, the experiences they wish they had have been projected upon their first son.

A man amongst others cannot only act for himself and this is certainly the case for our man. Outward actions and inward motives may be achromatic negative however, and he revels in this; finding comedy like the Greeks. Laughing at the tragedy which personifies human experience. Does this show poor morality on his behalf? No. It only shows awareness of the conditions he must live in, if he is to live at all. So he writes these down and frames them as somebody else's experiences, using them in the same way that masks are used in Noh.