The Big Problem Is Time. I Don't

Life Doesn't Have Plots And Subplots And Denouements. It's Just A Big Collection Of Loose Ends And Dangling Threads That Never Get Explained.

I Thought I Could Capture The Stories Of The City On Paper. I Thought I Could Write About The Horrors Of The City. Horror Stories You See. I Tell You I Didn't Have To Look Far For Material. Everywhere I Looked, There Were Stories Hidden There In The Dark Corners. . . . I Wrote And Still There Were More. . . . No One Would Publish Them. 'too Horrible,' They Said. 'sick Mind,' They Said. I Thought I Could Write About The Horrors Of The City But The Horror Is Too Big And It Goes On Forever.

The More I Think About It, The More I Realize That Schools Are Just Factories For Turning Out Robots, That's All. They Get You When Your Small And Vulnerable And They Take All The Human Parts Away, Bit By Bit, Until You're Just A Wind-up Toy. Turn The Key And Set It Running. And The Toy Goes To University, Gets A Job, Settles Down With Someone Nice.

When Was The Last Time You Had A Thought That Wasn't Put There By Them?

Sometimes It’s Only Madness That Makes Us What We Are.