Los Angeles Is Just New York Lying

I Like Living In One Room And Have Never Known What People Do With The Room They Are Not In.

I Don't Really Act. I Say The Words The Way I Would Say Them If I Meant Them.

Even A Monotonously Undeviating Path Of Self-examination Does Not Necessarily Lead To Self-knowledge. I Stumble Towards My Grave Confused And Hurt And Hungry.

The World Now Seems A Stunningly Ignoble Place. It Has Not Really Grown All That Much Worse But Appears To Have Done So Because We Know So Much More About It Than We Did.

I Simply Haven't The Nerve To Imagine A Being, A Force, A Cause Which Keeps The Planets Revolving In Their Orbits And Then Suddenly Stops In Order To Give Me A Bicycle With Three Speeds.