I Was No Good At

...it Is Not Possible To Create The Opposite Of What One Has Always Known, Simply Because The Opposite Is Believed To Be Desired. Human Beings Need What They Already Know, Even Horrors.

I Don't Understand Why, In My Work, Writing Is Always So Dangerous. It's Very Destructive. People Who Write Books Are Destroyers.

He Was Beautiful, That Was Always Affirmed, But His Beauty Was Hard To Fix Or To See, For He Was Always Glimmering, Flickering, Melting, Mixing, He Was The Shape Of A Shapeless Flame, He Was The Eddying Thread Of Needle-shapes In The Shapeless Mass Of The Waterfall. He Was The Invisible Wind That Hurried The Clouds In Billows And Ribbons. You Could See A Bare Tree On The Skyline Bent By The Wind, Holding Up Twisted Branches And Bent Twigs, And Suddenly Its Formless Form Would Resolve Itself Into That Of The Trickster.

I Think Vestigially There's A Synesthete In Me But Not Like A Real One Who Immediately Knows What Colour Wednesday Is.

History, Writing, Infect After A Time A Man's Sense Of Himself.