Its A Strange World. Lets Keep It

He Was In Blue Jeans And A Work Shirt, Which Is Another Weird Quirk Of Rich Old Men. Just One Of The Guys Here. Blue Jeans And A Work Shirt, Salt Of The Earth, Working Man Like Yourself. Like They're Somehow Uncomfortable About Being Rich Enough To Sleep In A Bed Made Of Vaginas Being Pulled Around The Town At Night By A Fleet Of Gold-covered Midgets.

That Means That The Universe Is Two-dimensional. Matter, Energy, Time, You, Me And The Floor Are Holograms.

If Contemporary Literary Fiction Doesn't Read A Bit Like Science Fiction Then It's Probably Not All That Contemporary, Is It

There Was A Time When I Liked A Good Riot. Put On Some Heavy Old Street Clothes That Could Stand A Bit Of Sidewalk-scraping, Infect Myself With Something Good And Contagious, Then Go Out And Stamp On Some Cops. It Was Great, Being Nine Years Old.

Santa Monica's Only Walkable If Death Is No Hurdle. The Air's The Wrong Colour. People Put Sunglasses On Their Dogs. It's A Hideous Place Where Humans Are Not Welcome And Those Who Stay Suffer Eight Kinds Of Brain Damage.