I have to say that it felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders when I cleared out my page.  I do know that I had to get over this feeling that my myspace page had become this self absorbed state of being that was in conflict with my work, and somehow it felt like a distorted view of my reality. 

But the other thing that myspace became was not a place for friends...oh far from it...it became this idea of networking that had marketing attached to it. The quest for the dollar, the euro...you name the currency...and what that becomes is a state of chasing after an illusion.  After all...all money is fake.

It is amazing what people do for money.  They sell their souls, give up their identities, kill their families, give up their dreams...and bit by bit...the love of being rich...has cost them everything they once held dear.  All of a sudden they are a suit...they are what they had hated. 

The underground becomes the establishment.  It isn't anything new...it is catering to the sheep.  The herd will chase after the latest, newest shiny thing because they want to park their brains.  The rationale is they have been thinking all week and they want to escape their cubicle realities. 

People will hate me for saying this. 

But, in the end, it is not about being hated or loved. 

There are people that can't stand George Orwell.  He wrote many things that were inflamatory...and caused a huge debate over the role of government in people's lives, let alone the taboo subject of how religion controls the masses as well. 

To me, it is simple.

It is considered revoluntionary to think and speak for oneself.  To love people, but not desire to have a one and only.  It is considered pride to dissect the society and how people pick each other apart in our survival of the fittest mentality.  It is all a game.  When one speaks their mind and their views are beyond societal norms...well...a person is crucified for thinking outside of the established group.

This is beyond a personal agenda for me. 

It is perhaps something that a friend wrote to me..."The poets are the last prophets of this age.  When they go silent, there is no more hope."

I realized I still have hope. 

I am opening the door again.  However, please be aware...to my friends that are writers...no book ads, there will be no marketing, selling here of any type. 

If you are asking if I am still writing...of course I am.  I am still breathing. 

I know my strengths...I know my weaknesses.  I know that the journey I have been on has been one of deep soul searching.  The sense of what my ex-patriot nation is going through, has been something I have been seeing for a long time....the consumming nation that is know for its stuff...and more stuff...and places to store the stuff....when the stuff we accumulate can not be taken with us.  We are lent all of this stuff...while we are here...don't love it too much.