To Hell With Reality! I

The Novel Can't Compete With Cars, The Movies, Television, And Liquor. A Guy Who's Had A Good Feed And Tanked Up On Good Wine Gives His Old Lady A Kiss After Supper And His Day Is Over. Finished.

In My Room I'd Barely Closed My Eyes When The Blonde From The Movie House Came Along And Sang Her Whole Song Of Sorrow Just For Me. I Helped Her Put Me To Sleep, So To Speak, And Succeeded Pretty Well... I Wasn't Entirely Alone... It's Not Possible To Sleep Alone.

For The Poor Of This World, Two Major Ways Of Expiring Are Available: Either By The Absolute Indifference Of Your Fellow-men In Peace-time, Or By The Homicidal Passion Of These Same When War Breaks Out.

A God Who Counts Minutes And Pennies, A Desperate Sensual God, Who Grunts Like A Pig. A Pig With Golden Wings, Who Falls And Falls, Always Belly Side Up, Ready For Caresses, That’s Him, Our Master. Come, Kiss Me.

Whenever They Get A Chance, Never Fear, People Make You Waste Hours And Months ... They Use You As A Wall To Bounce Their Bullshit Off Of ... Blah! And Blah! And Blahblahblah! ... You Put Up With It For An Hour, You'll Need Two Weeks To Recover ... Blah! Blah!