I write for myself. I write to become immortal. I write so you would love me. I write to find what I’ve been looking for. I write to burn in hell. I write to taste heaven. I write because I’m blind. I write because I don’t know how to speak. I write because I know nothing. I write because we’re different. I write because I can’t breathe. I write because my heart is broken. I write because my heart is bleeding. I write to have. I write to have not. I write because of you. I write because my back aches. I write because I can’t sleep. I write because of jet lag. I write because my bed is crumbling to dust. The Post-surrealists. Clayton Eshleman. Jerome Rothenberg. Pierre Joris. Emmanuel Torres and Benilda Santos and Tony Perez and Corazon Lalu and Kidlat Tahimik. The composer Michel legrand. The songwriter Andreas Mattsson. Roy Andersson. Vasko Popa. I don’t want to wake up in the same bed twice artistically. I want to renew the world by annihilating it. I want to skin life alive. I want to turn truth inside out until it becomes a lie and turn the lie inside out until it becomes truth. I want to burn history and smoke its ashes. I want to kill the living and raise the dead. I want to embrace the darkness until the light becomes blind. I want to sing until I’m shot. 30 feature films some shot in a day. 100 short films some shot in less than half a day. A dozen books. 1001 songs, song cycles, rock operas, piano solos, most written in one sitting. I have 3 bands. Vigo, Fando & Lis and The Brockas. There is no day but today. So I seize it. This is my compulsion. This is my phobia. This is my philosophy. This is my morality. This is my aesthetic. I live in mortal fear of stopping because it leads to doing nothing. Momentum is my religion. Rust never sleeps. I die tomorrow. One day all will be made clear. One day when it’s too late. Everybody is a magazine. We all have issues. These are mine.