A True Freak Cannot Be Made. A

American Culture Is Torn Between Our Long Romance With Violence And Our Terror Of The Devastation Wrought By War And Crime And Environmental Havoc.

Training Of Female Athletes Is So New That The Limits Of Female Possibility Are Still Unknown.

There Are Parts Of Texas Where A Fly Lives Ten Thousand Years And A Man Can't Die Soon Enough. Time Gets Strange There From Too Much Sky, Too Many Miles From Crack To Crease In The Flat Surface Of The Land.

It Is, I Suppose, The Common Grief Of Children At Having To Protect Their Parents From Reality. It Is Bitter For The Young To See What Awful Innocence Adults Grow Into, That Terrible Vulnerability That Must Be Sheltered From The Rodent Mire Of Childhood.

There Are The Those Whose Own Vulgar Normality Is So Apparent And Stultifying That They Strive To Escape It. They Affect Flamboyant Behaviour And Claim Originality According To The Fashionable Eccentricities Of Their Time. They Claim Brains Or Talent Or Indifference To Mores In Desperate Attempts To Deny Their Own Mediocrity.