I Did Keep A Travel Diary Once

As For Me... I'm Fine. I Have Bad Dreams, But I Never Saw Mister Duck Again. I Play Video Games. I Smoke A Little Dope. I Got My Thousand-yard Stare. I Carry A Lot Of Scares. I Like The Way That Sounds. I Carry A Lot Of Scares.

My First Attempt At Writing Was Very Unstructured And Formless, With Shifting Points Of View. I Was Trying To Understand How Long Form Might Work, And I Realized I Had Something Shapeless. It Was A Total Car Wreck. But I Still Felt I Could Pull It Off. So I Ditched That Attempt And Started Writing In The Opposite Manner, In First Person, With A Driving Narrative.

Dream Life, I Realized, Was Only Confusing When You Were Awake. It Was From The Perspective Of Waking Life That Dream Life Seemed Fractured And Lacking Consequence, Lacking Any Certainty That One Thing Led To Another. But From Within Dream Life, The World Was Generally Coherent. Not Exactly An Unconfusing World-just No More Confusing Than Any Other.

Escape Through Travel Works. Almost From The Moment I Boarded My Flight, Life In England Became Meaningless. Seat-belt Signs Lit Up, Problems Switched Off. Broken Armrests Took Precedence Over Broken Hearts. By The Time The Plane Was Airborne I'd Forgotten England Even Existed.

By The Time The Plane Was Airborne I'd Forgotten England Even Existed.