I Hate It When Something I've Had

And, Before Science Had Caught Up With The Legend, The Legend Had Swallowed Science And Everything.

Because There Was Only One Thing Worse Than Dying. And That Was Knowing You Were Going To Die. And Where. And How. (“death Ship”)

I'm Sitting In My Office Trying To Squeeze A Story From My Head. It Is That Kind Of Morning When You Feel Like Melting The Typewriter Into A Bar Of Steel And Clubbing Yourself To Death With It. (“advance Notice”)

As Her Analyst Had Told Her: The Deeper Buried The Distress, The Further Into The Body It Went. The Digestive System Was About As Far As It Could Go To Hide.

I Felt Puny And Absurd, A Ludicrous Midget. Easy Enough To Talk Of Soul And Spirit And Existential Worth, But Not When You're Three Feet Tall.