So Heedless Have We Become Of Our

Well, I Wanted To Be A Philosopher, Which Is The Idlest Occupation In The World. I Wanted To Be Involved In Abstract Thought, But Because Of Various Problems With The Authorities I Wasn't Able To Pull That One Off. A Lifetime Of Idleness In Academia Would Have Really Suited Me. So I Was Thrown Out, As It Were. Other Than That, There Seemed No Possible Idle Occupations, So Writing . . . Although Writing Isn't Exactly Idleness. There's An Enormous Tension Between Indolence And Languor.

A Very Beautiful Young Woman Once Asked Me To Sign Her Breasts. That Was Back When I Was A Hip Young Thing - It's Been All Downhill Since Then.

Sometimes It Occurs To Me That The Job Of A Serious Cultural Critic Mostly Consists In Telling The Generality Of People That Their Opinions - On Films, On Books, On All Manner Of Widgets, Gadgets And Even The Latest Electronic Fidgets - Simply Aren't Up To Scratch.

As The Render Is To The Building, And The Blueprint To The Machine, So Sport Is To Social Existence.

I Used To Find Myself Goofed Out In The Street On Drugs. And I Had Such A Bad Problem With Addiction At The Time That I Didn't Mind. I Was Dealing Cocaine And Shooting Up A Lot Of Cocaine. And That's Not A Good Space To Be In.