Disease-carrying Thoughts Swarm And Multiply In The

I Sat Day After Day In My Little Room, Waiting For Inspiration To Visit Me, Trying To Invent A Pseudonym That Would Express, In A Combination Of Noble And Striking Sounds, Our Dream Of Artistic Achievement, A Pen Name Grand Enough To Compensate For My Own Feeling Of Insecurity And Helplessness At The Idea Of Everything My Mother Expected From Me.

Sometimes I Have The Feeling That We Live In A Dubbed Movie And Everybody Moves Their Lips But The Voices Don't Correspond. We Are All Post-synchronized And Sometimes Is Very Accomplished And Looks Natural.

Humor Is An Affirmation Of Dignity, A Declaration Of Man's Superiority To All That Befalls Him.

With Maternal Love, Life Makes A Promise At Dawn That It Can Never Hold. You Are Forced To Eat Cold Food Until Your Days End. After That, Each Time A Woman Holds You In Her Arms And Against Her Chest, These Are Merely Condolences. You Always Come Back To Yell At Your Mother's Grave Like An Abandoned Dog. Never Again, Never Again, Never Again.

'gari' In Russian Means "burn!"... I Want To Test Myself, A Trial By Fire, So That My 'i' Is Burned Off.