Time Moves In One Direction,

I'm A Reluctant Writer Of Non-fiction, In Part Because I Don't Really Feel Qualified.

We Are That Strange Species That Constructs Artifacts Intended To Counter The Natural Flow Of Forgetting.

This Perpetual Toggling Between Nothing Being New, Under The Sun, And Everything Having Very Recently Changed, Absolutely, Is Perhaps The Central Driving Tension Of My Work.

We Have No Future Because Our Present Is Too Volatile. We Have Only Risk Management. The Spinning Of The Given Moment's Scenarios. Pattern Recognition.

Lost, So Small Amid That Dark, Hands Grown Cold, Body Image Fading Down Corridors Of Television Sky.