Why Can’t Our Job Here On Earth

The Mist Hung In The Air Like A Prancing Unicorn.

If I Couldn't Get Published Tomorrow I'd Still Be Writing. It's Something To Do With Feeling So Overwhelmed By This Experience Of Life That You Have To Tell Someone About It, And In A Way That Reorders The Experience To Make It Manageable.

The Poetry And Transgression That Was So Much Of Surrealism's Anarchic Force Has Been Recruited Into Mainstream Culture. It Has Been Made Commonplace By Television And Magazine Merchandising, By Computer Games And Internet Visuals, By Film And Mtv, By The Fashion Shoot.

The Bluebells Made Such A Pool That The Earth Had Become Like Water, And All The Trees And Bushes Seemed To Have Grown Out Of The Water. And The Sky Above Seemed To Have Fallen Down On To The Earth Floor; And I Didn’t Know If The Sky Was The Earth Or The Earth Was Water. I Had Been Turned Upside Down. I Had To Hold The Rock With My Fingernails To Stop Me Falling Into The Sky Of The Earth Or The Water Of The Sky. But I Couldn’t Hold On.

I Am Less Interested In Ghosts Than In People Who See Ghosts.