So Heedless Have We Become Of Our

Nowadays, My Mood Ungoverned, I'm Free To Think The Most Outrageous Things, Such As: Might It Not Be A Good Idea To Insist That Drug Companies Give Their Preparations Names That Tell The User What They Really Do?

The Future Continues To Preoccupy Me As A Reliable Source Of Hopes, Fears And Anxieties, But Increasingly The Present Seems To Have No Outstanding Qualities Of Its Own, Being Merely A Way-station Through Which Events Travel To The Vast Shadow Lands Of The Past.

I'm Going To End Up Like One Of Those Old Weirdos Who Lives In A Network Of Tunnels Burrowed Through Trash - Yet I Do Not Fear This.

Always Carry A Notebook. And I Mean Always. The Short-term Memory Only Retains Information For Three Minutes; Unless It Is Committed To Paper You Can Lose An Idea For Ever.

To Attempt To Write Seriously Is Always, I Feel, To Fail - The Disjunction Between My Beautifully Sonorous, Accurate And Painfully Affecting Mental Content, And The Leaden, Halting Sentences On The Page Always Seems A Dreadful Falling Short.