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    The Black Rider

    authentic since 1981 'welcome to my bomboclot mind'

    Thursday, January 3, 2008

    Passion

    Passion. Who can have it? The young? The ambitious? The inspired? I had it and I lost it. Somewhere along the way I lost it. If there were a time and a place to pinpoint the exact time and hour it left I could probably do that. I can blame the world a thousand times for a thousand different things that have harmed me. I am not dead yet, so that means I can still do something good with my life. I had always fantasized about leaving town and becoming a rebel poet slash rockstar. I am about to be twenty seven years old. So I guess its safe to say that It did not happen. I even wanted to be a writer at one time. A published one who wrote books and articles not self aggrandizing flurries in blog entries. That has not happened yet. Now as I approach my thirties, I would be content to start a family and settle down with the right girl. It seems to me however that every time I think I fall in love I seem to fall on my face. So, passion? It seems to have been negatively conditioned toward me. there will need to be some sort of revival. And there will need to be some sort of hunger. Where does hunger come from? If I could create that, then I could create passion, and if I can create passion then I can create greatness. What I do desire however is rest. And it seems that I can do that quite easily. There is something else I desire, or someone, and I am woe to pursue that . Passion can be a poisonous thing.

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    If you know me then you know my name. I am The Black Rider and the world is my Flame. The rider writes, observes, creates, produces, and learns the world around him. Ride on. Ride on!

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