Greed Is Good. Sex Is Easy. Youth

The Snowy Owl Has Eyes That Look Just Like Mine, Especially When It Widens Them. And While I Stand There, Staring At It, Lowering My Sunglasses, Something Unspoken Passes Between Me And The Bird - There's This Weird Kind Of Tension, A Bizarre Pressure, That Fuels The Following, Which Starts, Happens, Ends, Very Quickly.

Why Was I Holding On To Something That Would Never Be Mine? But Isn't That What People Do?

I Kept Staring Into The Blackness Of The Woods, Drawn Into The Darkness As I Always Had Been. I Suddenly Realized How Alone I Was. (but This Is How You Travel, The Wind Whispered Back, This Is How You've Always Lived.)

Every Book For Me Is An Exorcism In Some Way Or Another, Working Through My Feelings At The Time.

Yes. Yes I Am. I Am A Completely Demented Misogynist.