A Nonreader Is Somebody Standing There In

As I Holed Up In The City Of Angels, I Was Also Aware Of A Comforting Feeling Of Anonymity. In The World's Biggest Third-class City I Could Pass Unnoticed. I Spoke The Language. I Was Familiar With The Currency. I Could Drink The Water. I Could Almost Breathe The Air, Late April Air, Compounded Of Interesting Hydrocarbons.

This Was Not Some Pretty Little Girl, Coyly Flirtatious, Delicately Stimulated. This Was The Mature Female Of The Species, Vivid, Handsome And Strong Demanding That All The Life Within Her Be Matched. Her Instinct Would Detect Any Hedging, Any Dishonesty, Any Less Than Complete Response To Her - And Then She Would Be Gone For Good.

A Nonreader Is Somebody Standing There In A Blindfold.

[to] Me Organized Religion, The Formalities And Routines, [is] Like Being Marched In Formation To Look At A Sunset.

Up With Life. Stamp Out All Small And Large Indignities. Leave Everyone Alone To Make It Without Pressure. Down With Hurting. Lower The Standard Of Living. Do Without Plastics. Smash The Servo-mechanisms. Stop Grabbing. Snuff The Breeze And Hug The Kids. Love All Love. Hate All Hate.