So I Was Smacked Up On The

As Far As I Can See, The History Of Experimental Art In The Twentieth Century Is Intimately Bound Up With The Experience Of Intoxification.

Nowadays, My Mood Ungoverned, I'm Free To Think The Most Outrageous Things, Such As: Might It Not Be A Good Idea To Insist That Drug Companies Give Their Preparations Names That Tell The User What They Really Do?

A Short Story Is A Shard, A Sliver, A Vignette. It's A Biopsy On The Human Condition But It Doesn't Have This Capacity To Think Autonomously For Itself.

Lust Was A Positive High-tension Cable, Plugged Into My Core, Activating A Near-epileptic Seizure Of Conviction That This Was The One Thing I Had To Do In Life.

When Anyone Starts Out To Do Something Creative - Especially If It Seems A Little Unusual - They Seek Approval, Often From Those Least Inclined To Give It. But A Creative Life Cannot Be Sustained By Approval, Any More Than It Can Be Destroyed By Criticism - You Learn This As You Go On.