I Don't Really Recognise Success. I Don't

I Hid My Underwear Beneath A Parked Peugeot.

It Seems Like The Original 'star Trek' Could Have Gone On Longer.

I Am Always The Source Of The Worst Rumors About Myself.

No One I Interact With - Except Maybe For Family And Strangers At The Russian Baths And Other Weird Places I May Go To - Is Just Friends Or Lovers With Me: They Also Know Something Of My Writing And This Distorts Their Take On Me.

The Real Self And The Public Self Are Intertwined, Like A Tumor Around An Organ, And You Can't Cut The Tumor Or You'll Kill The Organ, So They Live Together, Until The Tumor Chokes The Organ Off - But Which Self Is The Tumor?. Or It's Like Something Out Of Star Trek. The Borg.