Tuesday February 09th 2010, 9:18 pm
Filed under: Love Letters

To a blizzard’s plight,

It’s winter in New York and there’s a snowstorm expected tonight. I moved here a little over a month ago leaving Los Angeles and its haunting stench and staleness behind. I miss my friends, although I know my absconding was justified as a matter of life or death. In the land of the lost I was quickly losing myself. No, never soft nor subtle, but only fast and furious. When I come, I come correct. I come with passion, ferocity and fervor, propelling ever closer towards the abyss, millimeters from event horizon. It is my suspicion that if I did not immediately leave Los Angeles, I would have been dead in no more then three months. This is not a Hollywood dramatization; this is candid concern for my conscious health. I left my friends behind, and as well my enemies. Most importantly, I left the self destructive part of me that was closing in on the slippery doorstep of death’s domain. No, this is not drama. These thoughts are the cause for my departure from California. So cheers to the rat that jumped ship. Cheers to the survivor and to the loner rodent running as far as he could from the haunting suspicion of an ominous and deadly storm. Yet, instead of running FROM these pathological uncertainties, I ran TOWARDS a better life, towards the Drala, towards the golden sun and the ineffable peace of a winter’s blizzard. Snow is peace; it is warm and cold congruently. It is a peace of mind which allows thoughts to wander into the nude nature of consciousness. Snow resets the cognitive mind like a freshly shorn scalp or a freshly drawn bath; it is the antithesis of the abyss. My natural instinct has been to strip off my confining clothes which inhibit me daily, and instead prance around in the magical freedom of snow’s white canvas. I am the artist’s brush dipped into the palette of the universe, ready to make my mark again. Yet the question prevails: will I continue creating the grotesque, or will I engage in unadulterated beauty? Only time will tell; only time and being will know. It’s beginning to snow now so I shall end this letter knowing my mind and heart are falling deep into to a falling blizzard.

– The Snow Flake

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