The future is a wall of black, cold exciting infinite backdrop of nothing. I’ve always felt that a lot. Time fleets. I've always hurried to plant seeds while I could while I could. Then there are the moments when I was held or I held someone and for that fleeting time, that embrace made falling backwards into the future seem not so bad, almost dreamlike, melty. It was not that they would be there when I died. It was that the moment itself with someone held-holding confirmed that there had been some reason, some sense, in and for having been alive. And that feeling is Alive. And that feeling is some kind of faith. It is difficult right now, because I crave a dollop of that feeling very keenly. Like eating up before a hibernation or expenditure. The future is at my back and I am striving for purchase as I walk backwards into it, wishing and waiting patiently for the Alive bits to make themselves felt. Kisses at the nape of the neck so pure and pleasureable that they make the howling wind recede in shame at their beauty.

The Gorillaz – The Future is Coming On [sic], (Clint Eastwood video) mp3link