Nonetheless, I was aroused by the idea that young writers and artists would go down on me in return for publishing their errata -- ardent young men sucking their way into print. Like Mae West, I like to be visited between the holidays. Having spent a string of art grants on cocaine and car bodywork, I had nothing to lose. These days I am struggling by as a private investigator without clients, which teaches me to despise the inertia of a reading public so unlikely to commit the crimes it feeds on. If thoughts were deeds, a private investigator would be busier. In the meantime, I polish my guns and sharpen my knives... |