I Did Keep A Travel Diary Once

Escape Through Travel Works. Almost From The Moment I Boarded My Flight, Life In England Became Meaningless. Seat-belt Signs Lit Up, Problems Switched Off. Broken Armrests Took Precedence Over Broken Hearts. By The Time The Plane Was Airborne I'd Forgotten England Even Existed.

The Truth Is, I Hadn't Grown Up Really Wanting To Be A Writer. The Whole Thing Was A Weird Aberration In Some Ways, And I Didn't Feel Personally Connected To The Level Of Success I Had With It - The Success Of Sorts, I Guess.

By The Time The Plane Was Airborne I'd Forgotten England Even Existed.

Dream Life, I Realized, Was Only Confusing When You Were Awake. It Was From The Perspective Of Waking Life That Dream Life Seemed Fractured And Lacking Consequence, Lacking Any Certainty That One Thing Led To Another. But From Within Dream Life, The World Was Generally Coherent. Not Exactly An Unconfusing World-just No More Confusing Than Any Other.

Vietnam, Me Love You Long Time. All Day, All Night, Me Love You Long Time. (...) Dropping Acid On The Mekong Delta, Smoking Grass Through A Rifle Barrel, Flying On A Helicopter With Opera Blasting Out Of Loudspeakers, Tracer-fire And Paddy-field Scenery, The Smell Of Napalm In The Morning. Long Time.