I wish there was time. Time to develop a thought. Time to not worry about things 1, 2, 500000 steps ahead.

I wish for that thought to float above my head for hours, twisting and turning and forming into a beautiful stream of ideas and possibilities. And then..

I get distracted. Wondering if someone will write to me, if I have something else I need to do I have forgotten about. Will I ever kick tis addiction and learn to focus?

I must, or else I will disappear into the sky when I am gone, never to be mentioned again.


No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun.

Reading Ecclesiastes for the fifth time, and every time I read this, it’s as if I’ve forgotten about the last time I read it. I mean, how could it be SO easy to slip back into a┬ánihilistic mindset? How can I so quickly lose passion in all I do?

Perhaps it’s just a wave, like everything — some light days, some dark days. And it’s tough, because I expect every day to be light, love, filled with music and joy.

Maybe we were created so — at certain ages we view the world in such ways. Can you control this? Can you just make yourself love the days?

I struggle to comprehend this world, and I never will understand it, like you, like them. But, what is it that sucks out all the meaning from the things I love — music, food, people.. Is it time itself, or just a chemical in my brain?

Where does compassion come from, where does love come from.

I don’t know if those are the right questions.


“Worship the morning,” I tell myself.

Morning brings breath to the soul, electricity to the body.

There are no moments slower yet more fleeting than the morning.

And yet, I miss it almost every day. Almost every day I sleep in.

And night gets all the attention.. The easy time of day.

Morning is pure, a struggle to appreciate.

One day I will love you like I’m meant to.

I just don’t know.

I really don’t understand anything. And I really don’t like that. I don’t understand the meaning of life, I don’t understand the changing of my emotions, the seasons as they change, what love is, what is healthy for my body and soul, what the point of anything is at all.

I wonder what stage in life this is — I could imagine some emo 16 year olds having the same thoughts I am having now, but it really is just frustrating. I am almost so willingly clueless, and sure that I don’t understand it, that perhaps, I actually do understand it.

My head goes in circles.

The only moments that exist for me are those elated moments of making music.

I don’t know who I am or what I’m meant to be.

It’s always changing, what I find satisfying, meaningful — my dreams.. I wish I could enjoy the ride a little more.

Sound is a magnet.

Sound is a magnet, either pulling me in, or forcing me away.

Sound leads my mood, leads my body, leads my soul.

The sound I create, is not mine.

Sound leads my fingers, leads my voice, gives my voice depth, reason, emotion.

It is my pupet master and I am simply its willing slave.

Sound is my memory.

Sound is my love. Not a taste, not a smell, I have met God, he is neither kind nor mean, but he knows how to make a lot of noise.

Where does it go?

I struggle to understand the passing of time, how things change. I guess I don’t want anything to change — I wish my hometown would look the same each time I go back to visit, I wish friends stayed the same, I wish my outlook on life stayed the same (or do I?). As a human, I don’t understand change — I don’t understand what love is, or means, what friendship means, what the meaning of life is.

I gather these experiences, and perhaps they are stored in some sort of mental/emotional jar inside of me. Perhaps, my muscle memory is also included in this jar. There is no limit to the size of the jar, I guess. Sometimes it feels like there is, when I can’t concentrate, when my outlook is negative, when I don’t feel close to love ones, family, or friends.

I search for meaning, waiting for something to excite my body, to escalate me to a new high. I look to the clouds, maybe to find God, I look to music, to find peace, or a river to let me flow with gently, and then, I don’t really look at all. And nothing happens. And I’m left empty. I’m left with a feeling of nothing, which actually makes sense. Doing nothing will probably make you feel nothing. I’m not sure. Meditating is not ‘doing nothing.’ It’s doing something to reach a higher consciousness.

I miss my romantic vision of the world. I miss not worrying about time. Maybe the jar fills up by itself, and shouldn’t be something to worry about. Maybe I’m learning and not realizing what I’ve learned.

I wonder when I will wake up.

Hola World.

My name is Arik, and if you’re reading this, you probably already know that. I am (at the moment) 23 years old, live in Leipzig, Germany, married, a musician in a rock and roll band called ELECTRIC TURTLES, and a singer songwriter. I’m learning some things along this road called life, suffering in the mundane act of simply existing, waiting to reach the end of my life. Maybe that sounds a bit too sad for you, and I’m sorry — most people know me as the smiley red haired boy, singing with his acoustic guitar, making people happy. Yes, that is a part of me, but only a part — alone, I bask in the grey clouds that sing a melancholy tune, never satisfied with the present, but always dwelling on the past, and the future to come.

It’s my hope that on my blog, I can share with you all the different shades of Arik, possibly give you insights to my little discoveries, as simple as they may be, and let you into my world. I’m not sure how I will be remembered, I’m not even sure if it’s important to me anymore if I will be remembered, but, I might as well tackle this bull while I can still grow a nice beard, before my time runs out.