This Is Intimacy: The Trading Of Stories

Time -- When Pursued Like A Bandit -- Will Behave Like One; Always Remaining One Country Or One Room Ahead Of You, Changing Its Name And Hair Color To Elude You, Slipping Ou The Back Door Of The Motel Just As You're Banging Through The Lobby With Your Newest Search Warrant, Leaving Only A Burning Cigarette In The Ashtray To Taunt You.

I Had Long Ago Learned That When You Are The Giant, Alien Visitor To A Remote And Foreign Culture It Is Sort Of Your Job To Become An Object Of Ridicule. It’s The Least You Can Do, Really, As A Polite Guest.

Your Emotions Are The Slaves To Your Thoughts, And You Are The Slave To Your Emotions.

I Have Had Work Or Ideas Come Through Me From A Source That I Honestly Cannot Identify. And What Is That Thing? And How Are We To Relate To It In A Way That Will Not Make Us Lose Our Minds, But, In Fact, Might Actually Keep Us Sane?

I Wondered, "why Have I Been Chasing Happiness My Whole Life When Bliss Was Here The Entire Time?