The Book That Changed My Life

THE BOOK THAT CHANGED MY LIFE The book that changed my life was Tropic Of Capricorn by Henry Miller. Wow! What can I say? This novel blows my mind. Have you ever read a book that confirmed your deepest, darkest fears and or suspicions? What if things are really not what they seem? What if our Parents, Teachers, Preachers and Authorities were wrong? What if they're completely brainwashed, simply miseducated, or even worse, THEY LIED TO YOU? One thing's for sure: Something a'int right, and it doesn't make any sense... That's basically where I was at, when Tropic Of Capricorn came calling. It narrates events leading to Henry Miller's ultimate decision to quit everything, and pursue his ambition as a Writer. Is it possible for someone to suffer so much, that when they finally hit rock bottom, the unexpected occurs? After been tested by life, The Free And Powerful Individual grows wings. Surmounts whatever crisis they're experiencing and evolves. The Soul matures, rising to the next level, a higher vibrational frequency... We were in the kitchen or dining room of his House Party, after work, when my friend John G. just for laughs, picks up a book and starts reading out loud. Everyone laughed, we were shocked and couldn't believe it. What's astonishing is somebody was crazy enough, and not just only willing to try. But having boldly pulled off the impossible, had managed to somehow get away with it. First published in Paris in 1939, it was banned in America until 1961. John G's quotes were several crude and obscene passages from The Land Of Fuck / Interlude section. Here was the battle cry of a soul that had had enough, the defiant rage of someone condemned and isolated. No matter how hard he tried, he didn't belong anymore, he just couldn't fit in. He was The Eternal Stranger now, forever at odds with the so called civilized world. His soul had died tormented by grave suffering, yet miraculously, it was somehow resurrected. Henceforth he ascended far beyond the sick and tired, and the sick and tired of the sick and tired. He has been born anew. The triumph of the human spirit. A reject, free of the soul crushing system. What made Henry Miller's work so impressive was his comic irreverence, the ability to go from vulgar to sublime. One is conveyed beneath the seedy underbelly of a city in decay, then catapulted to majestic realms by sheer flights of fancy. Swept away downstream upon wild and tumultuous tides, to emerge in exotic lands inhabited by mad artists and pathetic misfits. There's an underlying contempt for conventional standards, amid drug and alcohol fueled orgies, Miller waxed poetic. He wrote the way people actually speak. Non linear, stream of consciousness. Vitality and richness, the sights, sounds, and odors of life, are all here. With absurd misadventures, wild immoral tales. Everyone thought it was hilarious, but as Johnny keeps reading it dawns on me. There is beauty here, something transformative, a special kind of magic. And so the more he reads, the more I realize, "This Is What I Want To Do..."

Forgotten Dreams

FORGOTTEN DREAMS Have you ever abandoned a childhood dream? Is there something you used to love to do? A skill or gift that came quite naturally? Have you ever enjoyed doing your thing so much so that you lost all track of time? or it felt just like time stood still? Did it make you feel good? Did you ever take it for granted? At the beginning of 2013 I had a very pivotal dream. In the dream I was sitting on a garden wall or partition, at the center of the lounge or smoking area, inside this massive club or rave event. I get up, casually walk straight over to the far wall, and began painting a huge mural. I observe myself in this manner, applying paint to brick, from low ground to high ceiling, until I wake up... Many years ago when I was seven years old, I discovered I could draw and copy anything, using mostly pencil or pen. Thinking back, odds are the awareness of being an artist, much less, a successful one. That was impossible. At the time there were no local artists I can recall being consciously aware of. Nada for actual immediate positive or inspiring influences to seize or draw upon. I guess I secretly desired to be a painter, but must have felt so intimidated that I never got around to it. As a teenager, before teaching myself to read music and play the piano, drawing would have been my favourite pastime. But as the years go by, following friends, as time goes by, drifting through life, from experience to experience. I must have buried my dream... At the time I was THe Singer Songwriter Who Works As An Actor in TV, Films and Commercials. Being an Artist was not a part of the plan. Yet the message was clear, and there was no doubt. I knew for sure, it was time to paint. At first my mind was going through them changes, thoughts and feelings vacillated between hope and fear. They ranged from: (1) I always wanted to paint. To: (2) I don't wanna be a Starving Artist. . But as I painted, I would catch myself smiling from time to time. I was becoming so much happier now. Reconnecting, with a forgotten part of me... Follow Your Heart. Follow Your Dreams. Dreams R 4 Real.