The Day Of The Android

Why Had I Become A Writer In The First Place? Because I Wasn't Fit For Society; I Didn't Fit Into The System.

Whatever Creativity Is, It Is In Part A Solution To A Problem.

Its At Night, When Perhaps We Should Be Dreaming, That The Mind Is Most Clear, That We Are Most Able To Hold All Our Life In The Palm Of Our Skull. I Dont Know If Anyone Has Ever Pointed Out That Great Attraction Of Insomnia Before, But It Is So; The Night Seems To Release A Little More Of Our Vast Backward Inheritance Of Instincts And Feelings; As With The Dawn, A Little Honey Is Allowed To Ooze Between The Lips Of The Sandwich, A Little Of The Stuff Of Dreams To Drip Into The Waking Mind.

Relax, Enjoy Yourself. Have Another Drink. It's Patriotic To Overconsume.

The Fatal Error Of Much Science Fiction Has Been To Subscribe To An Optimism Based On The Idea That Revolution, Or A New Gimmick, Or A Bunch Of Strong Men, Or An Invasion Of Aliens, Or The Conquest Of Other Planets, Or The Annihilation Of Half The World--in Short, Pretty Nearly Anything But The Facing Up To The Integral And Irredeemable Nature Of Mankind--can Bring About Utopian Situations. It Is The Old Error Of The Externalization Of Evil.