I Turned Forty, And Im Finally Going

I Think Literature Is Best When It's Voicing What We Would Prefer Not To Talk About.

Have I Mentioned That I Expect Death Around Every Turn, That Every Blue Sky Has A Safe Sailing Out Of It, That Every Bus Runs Me Over, That Every Low, Mean Syllable Uttered In My Direction Seems To Intimate The Violence Of Murder, That Every Family Seems Like An Opportunity For Ruin And Every Marriage A Ceremony Into Which Calamity Will Fall And Hearts Will Be Broken And Lives Destroyed And People Branded By The Mortifications Of Love?

My Suspicion Is That This Is An Unavoidable Human Dilemma, That People Will Always Want To Avoid Pain, To Avoid Those Who Are In Pain, And So Will Be Vulnerable To Anyone Or Anything That Seems To Promise Permanent Avoidance.

I Had A Talk With The President Of My Publisher, And He Averred That E-books Are Dropping Off . So I Wonder If The Potential Advantages Are Really Going To Happen As Quickly As They Ought.

Capitalism, In The Realm Of Sexuality, I Figure, Thinks That We Behave In Specific Ways, Like A Breast Is Always Going To Produce A Hard-on For Some Product, Whereas The Truth Is That Sexuality Is Always A Continuum, Which Can Be Characterized By Reversals.