The Mist Hung In The Air Like

Since I've Been Hired To Contribute To The Storyline Of 'doom 4' I Can Say What Was Always True Anyway. I'm Working. You See, For A Writer, Lots Of Stuff That Doesn't Look Like Working Is Actually Working. Looking Out Of The Window, For Example. Balancing A Pencil On The Edge Of The Desk In Order To Find Its Exact Fulcrum. Playing 'doom.

What I Mean Is This: You Meet Someone, You Think About Them. You're Already Changing Because Of The Way You Think About Them. You Meet Them Again, You Think About Them Some More, You're Changing Again. And On It Goes. You Are Changing Right Now. Before My Eyes.

Every Day The Eye Is Subject To A Thousand Tiny Shocks As A Thousand Industries Compete For The Eye-kick, The Visual Hook That Will Lock The Consumer Into Product For That Crucial Second Where The Tiny - Or Not So Tiny - Leap Of The Imagination Is Made.

Rome Is A Place Almost Worn Out By Being Looked At, A City Collapsing Under The Weight Of Reference.

The Overintellectualization Of Surrealism Can Be A Bromide. A Dream Interpreted Is A Deflated Dream.