I Grew Up When People Seemed Actually

Randomness I Love. And I Still Love Just A Holler Right In The Middle Of An Ongoing Narrative. Pain Or Joy, Ecstasy.

I Distrust Thought. The Interior Life Is Highly Overrated. I Don't Like The Wispy And The Vague... Or Inductive Logic In Any Kind Of Writing. I'm Impatient With Writers Who Make Too Much Sense. The Better Things That I've Done Have Come To Me By Instinct.

A Writers Job Is To Destroy And Then To Build The Thing Back Up Again By A Chosen Means.

Children Will Listen To Anything Elders Say To Survive, And If You Grew Up Without An Elder Telling You There Was A God, What Did Your Parents Say To You?

I Grew Up When People Seemed Actually To Be Hurting Themselves For Their Art. Of Course, Some Of It Was Phony.