Saturday, April 14, 2007


Being my older brother, Clive took on the aspect of a god to me when growing up. Probably more so than my father, Clive had a heavy influence on my early character. He was always a lazy, cynical and sanguine creature. I aspired to his level of nonchalance.
It was only in my twenties that I slowly came to realize he was not a character to contend with, to compete with, to live up to. He was a lonely, passive, and surrendered soul.
He has always been the benchmark of truth to me, because of his supreme intelligence and smirk/sneer at whatever ideas or concepts were being presented by the mainstream. He is a prince, and he is immune to trends and fads.
There came a time when his observations and criticisms seemed too passive for me, and I began to question his ability to creatively engage.
To Clive I owe my intellectual freedom from the norm, my hatred of popular belief systems, my cynicism. By rejecting his passive nature, I owe him the realization of my own creativity and active involvement in the world.

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