There Is Nothing As Tentative

God, I Hate My Family, These People I Never Chose To Love, But Love All The Same.

I'm Quite Interested In The Absolute Roots Of Narrative, Why We Tell Stories At All: Where The Monsters Come From.

When You Find Yourself Alone, Or In A Transition, You Dream More. These Are Also The Times When You Read Books.

Here We Go Again. Always A Few Drinks, But Sometimes Even Sober, We Play The Unhappiness Game; Endlessly Round And Round. Ding Dong. Tighter And Tighter. On And On. Push Me Pull You. Come Here And I'll Tell You How Much I Hate You. Hang On A Minute While I Leave You. All The While We Know We Are Missing The Point, Whatever The Point Used To Be.

I Do Not Believe In Evil- I Believe That We Are Human And Fallible, That We Things And Spoil Them In An Ordinary Way.