The Images, The Language, Of Pornography, And

I Sit Watching The Brown Oceanic Waves Of Dry Country Rising Into The Foothills And I Weep Monotonously, Seasickly. Life Is Not Like The Dim Ironic Stories I Like To Read, It Is Like A Daytime Serial On Television. The Banality Will Make You Weep As Much As Anything Else.

This Is The Day Of Wonders. The Land Is Covered With Trees Like A Head With Hair And Behind The Ship The Sun Rises Tipping The Top Trees With Light. The Sky Is Clear And Shining As A China Plate And The Water Playfully Ruffled With Wind. Every Wisp Of Fog Is Gone And The Air Is Full Of The Resinous Smell Of The Trees. Seabirds Are Flashing Above The Sails Golden Like Creatures From Heaven, But The Sailors Raise A Few Shots To Keep Them From The Rigging.

One Stroke Of Lightning Does Not Have To Lead Anywhere, But To The Next Stroke Of Lightning.

The Story Fails But Your Faith In The Importance Of Doing The Story Doesn't Fail.

I Don't Always, Or Even Usually, Read Stories From Beginning To End. I Start Anywhere And Proceed In Either Direction. A Story Is Not Like A Road To Follow, It's More Like A House. You Go Inside And Stay There For A While.