I'm Not Planning What I

You Could Grow Up In The City Where History Was Made And Still Miss It All.

My Inner Chemistry Had Been Hijacked By A Mad Scientist, Who Poured The Fizzy, Volatile Contents Of My Heart From A Test Tube Marked Sober Reality Into Another Labeled Sunny Delusion, And Back Again, Faster And Faster, Until The Floor Of My Life Was Slick With Spillage.

I Definitely Care About How The Concept Of New York Punk Was Constructed, And Why It Mattered. But I Wasn't Gonna Do That. Partly Because I'm Not A Great Journalist...

Nature, Or At Least Birds And Women, Abhorred The Invisible Man.

By Removing The Stories From The Morass Of Things That Surround Us, I'm Hoping To Achieve Some Kind Of Purer Approach To Emotional Life.