The Seventies Were My Fattest Decade. Overall

I Think In Retrospect That All Those 'alternative'modes Of Living Were Little More Than Exercises In Arrested Development.

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.

Ideologists Of All Kinds Find A Strange Sort Of Comfort In The Madness Of The Crowd; It Confirms Them In Their Suspicion That History, Far From Being Made By The Great Mass Of Individuals - As Marx Averred - Is Rather Unmade By A Single Massive Individual, A Collective Other, Who Stands In Stark Contrast To You And He.

I Think I Now Understand Why It Is That The Young Are So Very Nostalgic. They Have So Little By Way Of Personal History That They Polish It Up And Make It Shine Like A Treasured Heirloom.

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.