In A World Without Future, Each Moment

I Think What Gets You Through A Small Writing Project, Is Just One Burst Of Inspiration. A Book, Especially A Longer Book, It's A Different Kind Of Force That Pushes You Through It. It's A Vision Of The Whole Thing.

Despite Our Strongly Felt Kinship And Oneness With Nature, All The Evidence Suggests That Nature Doesn't Care One Whit About Us. Tornadoes, Hurricanes, Floods, Earthquakes And Volcanic Eruptions Happen Without The Slightest Consideration For Human Inhabitants.

My Second Novel, "good Benito", Was Not Finished. I Wished That I Had Spent Another Year With It.

Nature Is Purposeless. Nature Simply Is. We May Find Nature Beautiful Or Terrible, But Those Feelings Are Human Constructions. Such Utter And Complete Mindlessness Is Hard For Us To Accept. We Feel Such A Strong Connection To Nature. But The Relationship Between Nature And Us Is One-sided. There Is No Reciprocity. There Is No Mind On The Other Side Of The Wall.

People Are Content To Live In Contradictory Worlds, So Long As They Know The Reason For Each.