11. Black

Just when I was about to film the video for the next song, the set I built on the attic of the studio exploded. It was probably some wiring problem, even though everything had been done according to plan and regulation. So now I can’t shoot. 

My peers here already have tons of art done. I have one unmastered song. 

It dawns on me that if it wouldn’t be for me being here in this context, if I had experienced yet another failure like this back home, at this point I would have shot myself. I can not take another setback myself.

It is not the constant string of failures and brutality that is my life that I can’t take or that I haven’t try to improve, neither is it the understanding that hard work, positivity and perseverance will get you nowhere – it is the gnawing feeling that this universe hates me. 

When people say that It can’t be that bad, and I give them an example of why I’m here in the first place, they tend to reel back in horror. 

I have asked my peers and other publishers of opinions on the novel by the way. Everyone thinks its great but have no idea on how to go forward with it. 

I have tried getting in touch with bookers, but they are the mythological creatures of the music business – they don’t exist. 

I’m stuck.

LEST WE FORGET! DEMENTED!