Life Is Weather. Life Is Meals.

One Of The Last Great Realizations Is That Life Will Not Be What You Dreamed.

I'm A Frotteur, Someone Who Likes To Rub Words In His Hand, To Turn Them Around And Feel Them, To Wonder If That Really Is The Best Word Possible.

When I'm Filling Notebooks I'm Trying To Pin Down What I'm Really Interested In And To Find Those Details That Are So Hard To Come By, Details That I Can Look At And Believe Are Right On The Mark. Things Which Bring A Novel To Life. They Can Take A While To Come.

I Like Aristocracy. I Like The Beauty Of Aristocracy. I Like The Hierarchical Feeling.you Could Claim That It's Due To My Military Experience. But It Came Before That. I Love Their Freedom Of Behavior. They're Not Constrained By Penal Attitudes, Puritanical Attitudes About Behavior, Both Socially And Morally. They Have A Freedom That I Admire. An Unquestioned Freedom.

You Lived And Died Alone, Especially In Fighters. Fighters. Somehow, Despite Everything, That Word Had Not Become Sterile. You Slipped Into The Hollow Cockpit And Strapped And Plugged Yourself Into The Machine. The Canopy Ground Shut And Sealed You Off. Your Oxygen, Your Very Breath, You Carried Into The Chilled Vacuum, In A Steel Bottle.