It Occurs To Me That Our Survival

Once Upon A Time ... The Only Autonomous Intelligences We Humans Knew Of Were Us Humans. We Thought Then That If Humankind Ever Devised Another Intelligence That It Would Be The Result Of A Huge Project ... A Great Mass Of Silicon And Ancient Transistors And Chips And Circuit Boards ... A Machine With Lots Of Networking Circuits, In Other Words, Aping-if You Will Pardon The Expression-the Human Brain In Form And Function. Of Course, Ais Did Not Evolve That Way. They Sort Of Slipped Into Existence When We Humans Were Looking The Other Way.

I Think Challenges Are What Any Decent Writer Would Be All About. If You Actually Do Find Your Slide And Grease It, Shame On You. Me, I Get Bored Very Easily. As A Writer I Get Bored Even Faster Than I Do In Real Life. I Mean, I Like Fast Cars; I've Driven A Lot Of Racecars. You Need Some Stimulation. If I Find Something That Seems Too Difficult To Do, Too Difficult To Research, Or Beyond Your Writing Abilities, It's A Perfect Invitation To Try It.

Every Age Fraught With Discord And Danger Seems To Spawn A Leader Meant Only For That Age, A Political Giant Whose Absence, In Retrospect, Seems Inconceivable When The History Of That Age Is Written.

All Of Our Lives Are Governed By A Certain Degree Of Faith In Bullshit.

Poetry Is Only Secondarily About Words. Primarily, It Is About Truth. I Dealt With The Ding An Sich, The Substance Behind The Shadow, Weaving Powerful Concepts, Similes, And Connections The Way An Engineer Would Raise A Skyscraper With The Whiskered-alloy Skeleton Being Constructed Long Before The Glass And Plastic And Chromaluminum Appears.