Alcoholism Is The Disease Of More.

When You're Starving Or Wrapped Up In A Cycle Of Binge-ing-and-purging, Or Sexually Obsessed With (someone), It Is Very Hard To Think About Anything Else, Very Hard To See The Larger Picture Of Options That Is Your Life, Very Hard To Consider What Else You Might Need Or Want Or Fear Were You Not So Intently Focused On One Crushing Passion. I Sat In My Room Every Night, With Rare Exceptions, For Three And A Half Years.

To A Drinker The Sensation Is Real And Pure And Akin To Something Spiritual: You Seek; In The Bottle, You Find.

Around The Time I Began Starving, In The Early Eighties, The Visual Image Had Begun To Supplant Text As Culture's Primary Mode Of Communication, A Radical Change Because Images Work So Differently Than Words: They're Immediate, They Hit You At Levels Way Beneath Intellect, They Come Fast And Furious.

Passivity Is Corrosive To The Soul; It Feeds On Feelings Of Integrity And Pride, And It Can Be As Tempting As A Drug.

Happy And Alone, You Say? Reclusive And Merry? How Oxymoronic! Pas Possible! Alas, The Concept Is Lost On So Many.