Art Is The Reasoned Derangement Of The

Crooked Cards And Straight Whiskey, Slow Horses And Fast Women.

We Have Forgotten Love, And Sat Lonely Beside Each Other. We Have Eaten Together, Lonely Behind Our Plates, We Have Hidden Behind Children, We Have Slept Together In A Lonely Bed. Now My Heart Turns Toward You, Awake At Last, Penitent, Lost In The Last Loneliness. Speak To Me. Talk To Me. Break The Black Silence.

When The Newspapers Have Got Nothing Else To Talk About, They Cut Loose On The Young. The Young Are Always News. If They Are Up To Something, That's News. If They Aren't, That's News Too.

Ex-cons Always Say, "you Never Know What Makes The Wheels Go Round Until You've Done Time In The Joint." This Is Even More True Of Psychiatric Hospitals. It Is A Perfect Mass Hypostatization Of Society, The Organization Of The Social Lie.

I've Been Around Jazz And Jazz Musicians Most Of My Life.