I Felt The Pressure Of Imagination Against

The Only Truly Alien Planet Is Earth.

Most Writers Flinch At The Thought Of Being Completely Honest About Themselves. So Absolute Honesty Is What Marks The True Modern.

We Live In A World Ruled By Fictions Of Every Kind - Mass Merchandising, Advertising, Politics Conducted As A Branch Of Advertising, The Instant Translation Of Science And Technology Into Popular Imagery, The Increasing Blurring And Intermingling Of Identities Within The Realm Of Consumer Goods, The Preempting Of Any Free Or Original Imaginative Response To Experience By The Television Screen. We Live Inside An Enormous Novel.

Given That External Reality Is A Fiction, The Writer's Role Is Almost Superfluous. He Does Not Need To Invent The Fiction Because It Is Already There.

The Human Race Sleepwalked To Oblivion, Thinking Only Of The Corporate Logos On It's Shroud.