The tale starts long ago on the playgrounds of child hood. Standing around, talking to friends, engaging in meaningless fraternization with people whom I cared very little about. There was nothing else that was meaningful - life was procrastination's domain.

As I grew more mature and, in some ways, more naive, I would endeavor to discover myself. Oftentimes I would find myself in the midst of the wrong crowds, or in the underbelly of cultures and phenomenon that most would consider too obtuse to the established norm.

Floating from moment to moment, extreme to extreme, I found that Music was my constant companion. No matter where I found myself, and even found myself without, there was always music. She was my companion, she was my first love.

I never considered myself a bad person, nor did I ever consider myself a ladies man. I was a lost soul, a directionless mass, passionless and lost. I wandered through out life's mysteries with the wonderment of a child, and with one's care and tact.

As the child would tell the father, nothing was really important. Like a tourist, I would keep enough money to get around, I would pack enough clothes and necessities to survive, and I'd leave the rest somewhere else.

I would claim that I loved life, but I didn't even know what love was. I enjoyed life, but one can't experience love without experiencing loss - and having nothing, fighting for nothing, led me to loving nothing.

For a while there, it was just My Music and Me.