So Heedless Have We Become Of Our

Ideologists Of All Kinds Find A Strange Sort Of Comfort In The Madness Of The Crowd; It Confirms Them In Their Suspicion That History, Far From Being Made By The Great Mass Of Individuals - As Marx Averred - Is Rather Unmade By A Single Massive Individual, A Collective Other, Who Stands In Stark Contrast To You And He.

Whenever I Produce My Best Work, It's Always Because I've Spent Time Being Idle. Something Always Emerges After Nothing.

Continuous Present Is All We Have, And Stream Of Consciousness - Which In A Novel Is Arguably Just As Artificial As The Stilted Dialogue That You Get In Most Conventional Novels. They're All Stratagems To Try To Get Closer To The Texture Of Lived Life.

Always Carry A Notebook. And I Mean Always.

It Is Fair To Say That Insofar As Sport Is Taken Seriously By Those Who Play It, Then To That Extent Their Conduct In Play - Their Ability To Deal With Loss Or Victory, Their Ability To Meld Strategic Thinking And Brute Force - Can Be Taken As A Small-scale Model Of How They, Or Others Like Them, Might Behave In Life.