Music is not an art anymore, too many bands, too many genres, too popular, too easy to do and get.

Up on a modest stage :

"Here's some cynicism for you, what can we bring back to it?, the touch, the passion and sincerity of amateurism, every band playing on a stage nowadays are overly impeccable." 

And that's what is awaiting for any other art forms (Writing as well for sure).

Someone who is solitary and happy has found himself.

In this video are some informations that everyone should be aware of in my opinion.

For your own good you should assume what you do, if it causes anguish and conflicts in you, just don't do it.
(And i tell you, you can guess it in advance by probing inside your heart where your real self resides. Your body knows, not your mind.)

5 Centimeters Per Second

For all sensitive people out there, here is an animation film that i recommend (if you're not allergic to japanese animation).
But beware, dive into the situations but see it as the wandering of humans driven by egoic emotions, they are teenagers and young adults, still lost in the search of who they are.

"whatever the bottle as long as we feel the intoxication"

Reading, like writing, is living by proxy.
Is it bad?
Pushing farther, maybe it's entirely the contrary of living.

I notice that when i want to read i can't sit still, i need to move, so i walk, i pace around my appartment, or i make an excuse to go by foot meet a friend in the suburb, on the way i'm reading along the sidewalks, and when the urge is there, even when it rains, i inconveniently hold an umbrella and a book before my eyes, i battle with the wind, and for the drops to spare the fragile paper. When i arrive i got blisters on my feet, and that impression that i traveled way farther, on imaginary lands, and that finally this time was worth the discomfort.

If my mind wasn't so troubled and such a coward, i wouldn't need books or writing, i would eat this present life with all my teeth, and bump into flesh, rust, bark, and bricks till my skin is bruised and i feel full to disgorge this life.

So, is it bad?

_________________

 Here's my journey for those days, when the sky is grey, when the air is cold and humid, and the city is slippery, i don't feel heavy, i go like a ghost and sink into the scorched and ruthless atmosphere of this island, a sort of foreign nostalgia about people i could never become acquainted with, but there, in this place that my mind create, i feel confortable.

- "Heureux... je le suis, mon couple dure, juste qu'il me manque les sous pour atteindre le bonheur parfait. Et toi ça va bien?"

- "Moi je n'ai rien du tout, et pourtant quand je pense à cette vie je n'arrive pas à être malheureux, alors c'est peut être que je suis à la place qu'il faut pour ce moment là."

* - "Happy... yes i am, my couple is lasting, i only miss some money to reach perfect happiness. And you, how are you?"

- "Me, i have nothing at all, however when i think about this life i can't bring myself to be unhappy, so maybe i am at the right place for this very moment."