It Seems To Me That What The

There Are A Lot Of People In This Country Who Really Like My Writing. And A Lot Of Writers Respect Me. But The So-called Establishment? They Hate Me.

No Matter How Beautiful The Outside May Be, The Inside Still Has Feelings And Needs That Just Words Don't Fulfill.

I Was Sitting At Home And Had A Profound Experience. I Experienced, In All Of My Being, That Someday I Was Going To Die, And It Wouldn't Be Like It Had Been Happening, Almost Dying But Somehow Staying Alive, But I Would Just Die! And Two Things Would Happen Right Before I Died: I Would Regret My Entire Life; I Would Want To Live It Over Again. This Terrified Me. The Thought That I Would Live My Entire Life, Look At It And Realize I Blew It Forced Me To Do Something With My Life.

Obviously, I Believe That To Pursue The American Dream Is Not Only Futile But Self-destructive Because Ultimately It Destroys Everything And Everyone Involved With It. By Definition It Must, Because It Nurtures Everything Except Those Things That Are Important: Integrity, Ethics, Truth, Our Very Heart And Soul. Why? The Reason Is Simple: Because Life/life Is Giving, Not Getting.

I Knew The Alphabet. Maybe I Could Be A Writer.