You motherfucker. Here we go. So I get a note from my friend Burn, my friend who I haven't seen in too long. It said something like here I come be ready for me and that was all I needed to hear. We've gotten good at feeling life's pull, and the pull is taking us somewhere new, to start something new for an undetermined period of time - the finest period of time there is. On May 15th, Burn is leaving from Los Angeles to meet me in Bangkok. That means I can't get there a day before the 18th, before he recovers, before he settles, before me and that crazy bastard take a torch to that fucking town.
He wrote me a month back, told me we were going to have to erase these lives we've catapulted onto the web, that people were telling him we would have to preserve our anonymity(talent) when the real stuff starts to move out into the world. Or at least mask it. Or at least make sure we were getting paid for it. Truth is, I don't need any of anyone's fucking money and I know that's not why Burn is doing any of this. I know it. I know him to his fucking bones. I don't know how much of what we've put out into the world is on here, or on Burn, miniscule amounts probably and none of it matters. I think at the end of the day, me and Burn share a lot of the same demons, and whatever it means that we have to run around the globe to find out what it takes to exercise them...then that's our truth. That's the only thing that matters. At some point, our first is going to light a fire. At some point, people are going to expect of us what we expect of ourselves. At some point, we are going to have to take on the responsibility of being the best that exists. That motherfucker turned me...
Believe it, we're ready. Me and my boy...
