Yeah, sometimes I think about all the things I do, and pretty much everybody does, that is poisonous to my soul. Even the act of reading. Getting all focussed u

Yeah, sometimes I think about all the things I do, and pretty much everybody does, that is poisonous to my soul. Even the act of reading. Getting all focussed up inside my head like that. It sticks you know. I mean, you put yourself there for a while and you tend to stay there. Stuck in your head, in dreams and abstractions. And then you gradually lose sight of everything else. Alienated from everything. Numb. It's a testament to the resilience of the human form, and the invisible forces that take care of us, that we haven't already turned into bloodthirsty maniacs.