How is it that I’ve went from knowing everything, to realizing that I know absolutely nothing… at all?

How long must this darkness persist? Are we constantly chasing after some fantasmagorie within ourselves? These are rhetorical, for I know there is no answer… I’d be a fool if I were to ask a question, I knew couldn’t be answered.

Yet, when I feel I’ve gotten there. I still feel, even then, it is not enough. And I unleash more darkness on myself, than is necessary. I do not like to pretend, or fool myself into believing in this false sense of security which presents itself now.

The sun shines outside of me, but within me, the moon haunts me with its mystery.

Although, as seductive as it may be… to live in the moment, I hate uncertainty.

Uncertainty is worse than death itself. This world is uncertain. At the same time, I am terrified… yet also angry.

Where is a tortured individual’s reprieve against this nonsense? People see my face, and do not see the suffering. Look into my eyes, it is there… why do you think I avert my gaze from others? Not only do I not wish for you to see that part of me—but also, I do not wish to see the darkness within you.

Shall I cling to more logical distraction? Illusions of materiality (I better work, that’ll numb it for a while).

I am ill.

And yet I know, that this is temporary.

All MOMENTS are temporary. I have not yet accepted this fact about life, that there is no yes or no. Yet, that illusion of a certainty is what keeps me going I suppose… that abstraction of a future that lives in a state of impossibility.

There is no past. There is no future. Only abstractions.

We are prisoners to now. I hate now. But for later nows, I will feel differently…


Duality fascinates me. This reality is built on that cardinal rule. As within, so without.

I’ll allow this post to be a reflection of sorts. That is, acting as a reference for my own development and growth as a person.

This year, I will be solely focusing on these things… above all else:

  • Music. Learning More Of It.
  • Finishing My PhD.
  • Building More Of My Finances.
  • Looking After My Sons:

I adopted some rats, at the end of last year. Three brothers. Fancy rats, with beautiful unique patterns to their coats. Each different, in their personalities and temperament… and so, they were named.

Chopin, for his being sensitive and sooky. Chopin likes to bite my Nephew. Chopin is the most obese, out of the lot.

Ratmaninoff (Rachmaninoff) for his being the most intelligent. He’s often the first one to break out. He is also the alpha male with the largest testicles. I found it fitting, since Rachmaninoff has large hands. Heuheuheuhe.

And Liszt, for being the friendliest fella. He’s the runt, and the most playful.

It’s kind of funny naming my rats after pianists. I enjoy conversing with them, as owners tend to do with their beloved pets. Often, I’ll find that I do a double-take and chuckle at what I’ve said: “Liszt, stop urinating all over Chopin!” or “Ratmaninoff, why did you take a crap on Chopin?” And! “Ratmaninoff, stop biting Chopin and Liszt!” Also, I had to go to the vet, recently. Ratmaninoff has been ill as of late. Anyway, they were puzzled to hear his name, and so, they bluntly asked me for a nickname. To-which, I gave them “Sergei”. I remember stuttering on the phone like an idiot beforehand, with my stating his name: “R…r…atmaninoff…” Therein followed, an awkward pause from the woman, on the other end… which led her to request a nickname. My nephew calls him ‘Rach’, but I see ‘Sergei’ as being respectful to the original sexy Rachmaninoff.

Yes, I has me a crush on the Russian composer, and pianist Rachmaninoff. He was damned hot in his youth. Bet he was good at chess too, mhmm~ Him and Frederic Chopin. Franz Liszt, not so much. Sorry Franz, you’re too pretty.

Note: Disregard that.

Since then, I have went out and adopted three more rats:
Mozart, Papa Haydn, and Beethoven. They are delicious specimens. PHOTOGRAPHS COMING SOON!

By late 2020, I replayed this everyday. I remember seeing this scene, when I was seven or-so years old and being mesmerized by it. Ever since then, I always wanted to find it again. Sometime in 2019, I found it… and honestly, it took me a while to identify it, but when the memory clicked, I was ecstatic.

Yes… come sweet death.

With the first chapter of my PhD comic out of the way (I must complete the 2nd, before the end of this year) I’ve been pouring my ‘free’ days into pianism… whilst the circumstances allow it. Then it’s back to drawing, and Academia yet again.

Some progress shots of Chapter I complete:

Ah love.

Romantic is a period of music, and art… isn’t it?

The concept of harmony is only found in the conventions of music. What is this human contact, you speak of? Living in harmony… people are capable of harmonizing?

When people kiss, I do believe they’re transferring disease to one another.

When someone gives me the eye in public, I threaten them. Telling them, that they should keep that eye to themselves–then they’re quick to correct me, in that they are using TWO of their eyes, and not ONE of them.

I don’t care too much about your face. I believe you should notice, that I barely look you in the eye. I am more interested in your hands. More than likely, on a date, I will ask to see your hands. You have been warned.

Anyone who knows their way around seven octaves, has always got my interest. I will therein, proceed to ask you questions about how you do that–and then you will get slightly uncomfortable, due to the unsolicited attention I am paying to you. Relax, I just want your secret formula.

I like men and women, just fine. No bias, my dudes.

In attempting to be ‘special’ and ‘unique’, we unknowingly move toward a totalitarian society. Yes, if everyone is aiming for that objective, don’t you think it’s counter-intuitive? The only true way to become one’s self, is to do so… in complete solitude. I am a fucking weirdo, and I quite like that about myself.

If there was a clone of myself, I’d marry them. Hell, male or female. I’d like to see how long it would take for me to drive myself nuts–then again, I do a good job of that on my own… and there’s only ONE of me. I think we’d get on well. I’d get the other me to be a pianist, and I’d have this ‘me’ (the one typing) continue their Academic career.