Much More Than Memoir; It's History.

The 60s Passed And Faded And I Grew Older, And In 1987 Bought A House In Upstate New York, And It Turned Out That John Brown Was Buried Down The Road From My House And That He Had Lived There Longer Than Anywhere Else And His House Was Still Standing.

There Is A Wonderful Intelligence To The Unconscious. It’s Always Smarter Than We Are.

What You Believe Matters, However. It’s All Anyone Has To Act On. And Since What You Do Is Who You Are, Your Actions Define You. If You Don’t Believe Anything Is True Simply Because You Can’t Logically Prove What’s True, You Won’t Do Anything. You Won’t Be Anything. You’ll End Up Spending Your Life In A Rocking Chair Looking Out At The Horizon Waiting For An Answer That Never Comes. You Might As Well Be Dead. It’s An Old Philosophical Problem.

It Was Strange To Stand There In Front Of The Mirror And See Myself Like I Was My Own Best Friend, A Kid Wanted To Hang With Forever. This Was A Boy I Could Travel To The Seacoasts With, A Boy I'd Like To Meet Up With In Foreign Cities Like Calcutta And London And Brazil, A Boy I Could Trust Who Also Had A Good Sense Of Humor And Liked Smoked Oysters From A Can And Good Weed And The Occasional 40 Ounces Of Malt. If I Was Going To Be Alone For The Rest Of My Life This Was The Person I Wanted To Be Alone With.

Nobody Does Anything For One Reason.