Monday, December 1st, 2003
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I look at this picture and think of Benjamin Britten’s great Serenade for Tenor Solo, Horn and Strings, Op. 31. He sets poetry to music and there’s a particularly haunting one about a rose by William Blake. It starts with ” O Rose, thou art sick…”. Just like the Human Spirit, it’s sacred beauty can still hurt you with its hidden thorns as well as attract the invisible worm to sap you. It is impossible to fully let go and trust.
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I see you’re becoming aware of people noticing you. You told me the older kids know you are related to famous people. They want your Uncle Nicolas’s autograph. They tease you about your last name being on wine bottles as they offer to carry your backpack. They’re not in your class or even grade for that matter. You wonder why they think you’re so important. It does make you feel kind of special, but weird at the same time, because you really didn’t do anything. You look at the lonely kid in the corner of the playground that nobody’s noticing. You feel bad for him. You want to be his friend, not theirs.
The juggling has suddenly gotten a bit too heavy for me. My batteries are run down. It’s time to recharge. This happens periodically. The difference this time is that the little marshmallow man is nowhere in site. My confidence and determination are very strong and right on course. Come to think of it, the last time the little marshmallow man paid me a visit I was doing three things at once. It wasn’t easy, but I accomplished a lot especially with the help of my wife, my business partner and the great PlasterCITY team. I’m sure I roasted the little guy with the huge walls of fire needed to do the BOO YA TRIBE video for my film. Maybe, I’ll never see him again, but if I do I’m more than ready.

Little marshmallow man almost a year ago.
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