The Midwest Is Such A Tabula Rasa.

Music Forecasts The Past, Recalls The Future. Now And Then The Difference Falls Away, And In One Simple Gift Of Circling Sound, The Ear Solves The Scrambled Cryptogram. One Abiding Rhythm, Present And Always, And You're Free. But A Few Measures More, And The Cloak Of Time Closes Back Around You.

I Don't Mind Arguing With Myself. It's When I Lose That It Bothers Me.

What I Really Like To Learn How To Do Is To Build Sentences That Are Equal To Mental States.

I Used To Work For 12 Or 14 Hours At A Time But The Digital Age Has Made Such Happy Immersions Almost Impossible.

Everything Interests Me.