After so many attempts to begin publishing my work, is it ironic or destined that the one that will succeed is a simple blog that goes back to my very first blog for inspiration? "Lost Muse" was the screen name for my Xanga way back in 2006 when I was writing the one manuscript I actually finished and attempted to sell to a publisher: Broken Doll.

Why Lost Muse? At the time, I remember being beguiled by the multiple meanings possible in the phrase. Am I a muse that has been lost? Have I lost my muse? Or is my muse just "lost"? Today, I think it resonates because I am just lost. I feel lost. I felt like I was going somewhere, I had a destination in mind, I even thought I had a map and a compass, but now I simply don't know where I am or where I am going, or how to get back to where I came from. Do I even want to go back there? Do I even want to go where I was headed? Is where I am such a bad place to be?

Maybe today it is better to just stay lost. The world is so fucked. Human society is completely fucked up, and America is leading the way. To be fair, human society has always been fucked up and the world is just an indifferent place. The world has so much beauty, but is utterly indifferent to the survival or welfare of any individual entity within it. What can be done about any of it?

So much to explore. That's what I always have wanted to do, since I was a little boy and I began reading. I wanted to explore whatever there was to explore. Books, imagination, writing - these were the ways I was able to explore until the last decade when circumstances have allowed me to explore the physical world. Now I have set foot on every continent save South America, and that is planned for 2028 - if of course travel is even still possible then. Macchu Picchu, Cape Horn, Patagonia, the cities and beaches of Brazil await. It's amazing.

Maybe lost, but not lying down and waiting to die. Maybe lost is the best way to explore. Maybe exploring lost is the best way to live life. Musings all.

It's really not in me to give up, so no matter how pointless and impotent and hopeless and nihilistic as I might feel, I scribble, and I want to get the words out, get the messages out, impact the course of history. I'm sure I won't, that I will die the insignificant speck of life I have been and that in truth every one of us is, but at least I will not have given up on my grandiose inner story. For I am like all other living creatures: a finite infinity, an infinite reality encapsulated within this shell of flesh.

If you are reading this, enjoy. I hope the stories and musings you will find on this site will make you think, make you feel, make you want to act.