As much as music is the ultimate source of inspiration sprinkling my life with ambition, writing is my ultimate door to moral therapy.

If I feel down, or just even deeply doubtful about something, chances are I’m going to end up writing.

First, I try self-denial coupled with self-motivation. I try convincing myself of the obvious while rationalising my state of mind. That generally works pretty well.

Then if that doesn’t work, I try forcing myself to be strong, focusing on all the positive sides of the situation. That works even better.

Sometimes though, the above isn’t enough and I need a deep inner conversation in order to sort my mind out. That’s when writing comes into play.

Writing is a moral weapon.

Basically when things seem to be going out of control, the most elementary thing to look for is hindsight.

So here is my pathway to demotion.

I feel out of this world. My life. My insights. My points of view. My ideas. My way of doing things.

It’s all so different from other people’s that I often get to a point where I literally say to myself: “What the hell are you doing in this world.”

And moving from Paris to the other side of the Earth didn’t help, although I did free myself up from certain sources of life discomfort.

I wonder if other people feel the same, and if so, how often?

I wonder if one day I’m going to come across someone who perceives life in the exact same way.

Better than hope is certainty; mine lies with negation on that last one.

I have fair reasons to assume that I’m too passioned about things. I’m too intense, too radical. I guess I’ve lived so many things other people haven’t - in a set of contrasted circumstances not all responding to my high spiritual demand - that I now belong to a reality which isn’t mine.

I presume that writing is part of that so-called high spiritual demand. I just need to free my mind from any exigent circumstances. No rules. No laws. No constraints.

Freedom. World of moral absolutism.  

I’m tired of being mistaken, misunderstood, mistreated, misjudged, misallocated.

Unfortunately my pain lies only where I place it, which is why I believe that viewing a distant reflection of my present will help me reshape my future to what I want it to be given a set of unavoidable conditions.

At the root of my issue, there is uncertainty and disappointment of oneself. I see myself adopting a behavioural pattern that doesn’t meet my intentions of perfectionism.

Oh well.

Life never brings what we expect. We can only be sure of the darkness obscuring our souls beyond the very last breath to ornament our existences. 

Conclusion. When things go wrong, surprise your misfortune with a smile.

Let’s take one minute to think.

As people, our relationship to one another is very similar to our relationship to music.

Some tracks get you hooked straight away, and you get tired of hearing them fairly soon afterwards.

Sometimes you hear a song that you don’t like, and that never changes.

Some songs evoke a specific state of mind and you get spiritually attached to them.

Sometimes you like a song, hate another, and sadly you’ll never pay attention to most.

Sometimes you kind of like certain songs, but not enough for you to change your perception of music.

And very rarely, you come across a song that you really get into. A song that makes a difference. A song that inspires you to be better than yourself.

I catch myself saying or thinking so on a daily basis. ‘Everything happens for a reason’ here and there, every time something unexpectedly bad occurs.

So much that I’ve unwillingly given essence to a self-persuasive philosophic stream revolving around that fairly common saying.

Personally, I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason. But whenever we humans, as like-minded machines, think so it helps us find a reason for everything that happens. And with reasons come focus and sapience.

It makes life easier, and more importantly it makes us see halos of light in day-to-day obscurity.

This is from the dude who doesn’t live by God and Destiny crap.

I just realised that my closest friends have a significant feature in common: I still remember the very first day I saw them like it was yesterday.

I have several really good friends for whom I can’t remember the first encounter, even when trying hard. And if I analyse my relationship with them, I indeed concur it’s not as deep as with my friends from the former category.

I usually don’t believe in that spiritual crap but I gotta say, there it seems striking. As if I was meant to be part of their life - and they were meant to be part of mine - from the very beginning.

Sometimes the process turned out to be cumbersome and extended over time. Sometimes things worked out straight away and have never changed ever since.

If I can manage to find a girl with whom the same chemistry occurs, I guess I will be set for life. Well there is one, and you’ll never know who until I actually get married.

In the meantime, let’s make some entertainment history!

Most working people look forward to spending a day at home. I do too. Not for the same reasons…

To me, a day at home means a day of editing, script writing, planning, emailing, and organising.

Paradoxically, each day at home brings me closer to my dreams.