I know in my heart that I am an artist.
And, despite whatever we can think to call it, I also know that there is a single truth.

I know that there exists the kind of people who can be moved to tears by a piece of music, not because they think that it speaks to them somehow, or because their piddling opinions deem it worthy of such praise, but because they know that art can judge itself. There is something indescribable that underlies the music itself. It's an experience, a discovery, something that changes the very core of you, something you know as absolute, ethereal, fleeting, in short, masterful, where, through it, we're able to experience something big, the gravity of our very own souls perhaps, something that takes your breath away, knocks you to the floor and breaks you down.

See the forest for the trees. Realize the herd. Arrive.

Know power. Contemplate the Line. See Form. Work. Transcend time and frailty. Witness the grace and glory of your own two hands and know in the end that you, inexorably, are you, are nothing.

They sit in their rooms and wonder when you'd call. You don't, because when push came to shove, they, simply, were at the bottom rung of your priorities. They love and hate you for that. You're admired, but only to the extent that you can feed your own vice, a big bad fucking monster that lurks behind your eyes, seething out its words from behind a forked tongue. Yeah, it's fucking legend and I am my father's son.