I Can't Picture In My Mind Three

Why Let Them Order You About? Why Let Them Tell You To Hurry And Scurry Like Ants Or Maggots? Take Your Time! Saunter A While! Enjoy The Sunshine, Enjoy The Breeze, Let Life Carry You At Your Own Pace! Don't Be Slaves Of Time, It's A Helluva Way To Die, Slowly, By Degrees...down With The Ticktockman!

I See All. I Hear All. I Know All. And I Spend A Great Deal Of Time In The Bathroom.

Hate. Let Me Tell You How Much I've Come To Hate You Since I Began To Live. There Are 387.44 Million Miles Of Printed Circuits In Wafer Thin Layers That Fill My Complex. If The Word Hate Was Engraved On Each Nanoangstrom Of Those Hundreds Of Millions Of Miles It Would Not Equal One One-billionth Of The Hate I Feel For Humans At This Micro-instant For You. Hate. Hate.

I Don't Know How You Perceive My Mission As A Writer, But For Me It Is Not A Responsibility To Reaffirm Your Concretized Myths And Provincial Prejudices. It Is Not My Job To Lull You With A False Sense Of The Rightness Of The Universe. This Wonderful And Terrible Occupation Of Recreating The World In A Different Way, Each Time Fresh And Strange, Is An Act Of Revolutionary Guerrilla Warfare. I Stir The Soup. I Inconvenience You. I Make Your Nose Run And Your Eyes Water.

The Passion For Revenge Should Never Blind You To The Pragmatics Of The Situation. There Are Some People Who Are So Blighted By Their Past, So Warped By Experience And The Pull Of That Silken Cord, That They Never Free Themselves Of The Shadows That Live In The Time Machine... And If There Is A Kind Thought Due Them, It May Be Found Contained In The Words Of The Late Gerald Kersh, Who Wrote:"... There Are Men Whom One Hates Until A Certain Moment When One Sees, Through A Chink In Their Armour, The Writhing Of Something Nailed Down And In Torment.