I Ate His Liver With Some Fava

I Expect Most Psychiatrists Have A Patient Or Two They'd Like To Refer To Me.

You Know How Cats Do. They Hide To Die. Dogs Come Home.

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.

Typhoid And Swans - It All Comes From The Same Place.

Nothing Made Me Happen. I Happened.