Walking on a perfect beach with my friend, looking at the sea on my birthday, I wondered why I couldn’t find any sense of happiness. I wondered why I felt 28 dead years taking me down with them. There was no escaping it. There was no more youth. Only the fascinating descent remained. My song, no longer the exuberant anthem of youth, darkened with the bitter low chords of a death march, and has been that way ever since. Let the sun make a terrible roar while it goes down. Let’s look into the grim face of god fearlessly and without any hope of finding light there. We will stab the darkness with our terrible knowledge.
September 1, 2008 / Cannon Beach, Oregon
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