I have been a curious child, very, as a matter of fact.
Fearless, I have grown thinking of no limitations that could possibly set borders to my interests, dreams and fantasie, always aiming at bulding a different kind of living world for the existing man I try to be: always absent of any sort of physical, racial, geographical or sexual characteristic feature that would vanquish my intentions.
In varios distinctive shapes of lives which have taken me by storm, my writing hand, far from collapsing, has allowed me to see beyond the sounds my eyes could see… Publishing has been a delicious concoction I have drunk; nonetheless, giving life to the lives others have created has been a mesmerizingendeavor.
Chance and certainty together, holding hands as if strolling by the side of a midday reverie, it seems as if the airs winding my past childhood and adolescence could now be seen: personifies into diverse entities which, altogether, describe in great part the intentional urge I have for tasting flavors still unknown and unspoken of in cook books.
Back in THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF KHAMSA in Minneapolis, when I started off as the gentle mail deliverer, the fish-song go-go boy, the valley girl, the frustrated fiom director, the alcoholic and the spokesperson of ethereal voice, to a PRESENT in which I have been reborn into the ever walking nudity of a soul looking for redemption, the sould of a decaying lover, the darkened consciuosness of a chaotic rockstar, the violent rapist, the chaste yoga dancer, It is easy to see how much polishing those portrayals have done upon my life.
TRUE!!!!!!!!!!!! I have been one, one too little, too many things; mutated forms of abstract complexion, the ever-so-changing colors of a decaying creation; the product of one, too little, too many generations..
Thus, the metamorphose of my being myself, which I now share with you in humble pieces.