There's such depth here. You can't help but feel sorry for Anjie, even if he doesn't quite know if he should feel sorry for himself or not. He's acutely aware that he is being manipulated and controlled but on the other hand, there's security in that, even if it comes at an awful cost. Every spontaneous thing that he is carefully crafted to promote his career, the band's success, and his handlers' success. He is trying to remember exactly who he is, and wondering why it even matters. I enjoyed the process of creating it, the discovery of every single little tone, every single chord progression. I would lock myself in the refresher and come up with the strangest of riffs. And Wompy and Dale found themselves following my unorthodox practice, not knowing that was the only remaining trace of the actual Anjie Mencuri. This part was particularly sad to me; here Anjie is trying to be a creator, an artist, to build from nothing something that is new and original and beautiful, and the process is then copied and turned into some method to create more consumable media to feed the demanding masses. Even the process of being an artist is sullied and made commercial, stripping the joy from the creating and turning it into mass production. I am not ready yet to tell you how low I had fallen. Maybe because I never really renounced those days and I’m proud of everything I have gone through. And that would be hard to understand to somebody who never found solace in rokna blue...But I am glad that it was a part of my life. I am glad that it almost killed me, because I am finally the man I should have been all along. hmmm. interesting. He's still tethered to the spice and he doesn't necessarily feel it's something he should not have done. In fact he credits it for providing him the foundation for his current life. Who, exactly. IS the man he should have been all along? Great introspection, EP! So much to think about here. I loved this.