All Paths Lead Nowhere; Choose

When The Civil Rights Battle Was Won, All The Jews And Hippies And Artists Were Middle Class White People And All The Blacks Were Still Poor. Materially, Not Much Changed.

There Were Days When No Kid Came Out Of His House Without Looking Around. The Week After Halloween Had A Quality Both Hungover And Ominous, The Light Pitched, The Sky Smashed Against The Rooftops.

I Don't Want To Indulge Myself In The Luxury Of Writing Beautiful Paragraphs Just For The Sake Of Making Beautiful Writing. That Doesn't Interest Me. I Want Everything To Be Essential.

It Wasn't For Children, Seventh Grade. You Could Read The Stress Of Even Entering The Building In The Postures Of The Teachers, The Security Guards. Nobody Could Relax In Such A Racial And Hormonal Disaster Area.

Fantastic Writing In English Is Kind Of Disreputable, But Fantastic Writing In Translation Is The Summit.