There are many days when I feel the pull of the subconscious, little Kali with her necklace of skulls. “This is normal,” I tell myself. Something delicate–a doll’s chair breaks in my hand. “This is customary,” I say. I feel like a man trapped in a tool shed, fingering the bolts and broken tools.
“Well,” I tell myselves, “We Got It Bad, and That Ain’t Good”. How about a nice, cold glass of logical positivism?” Little Kali hates this. Nature doesn’t like the Romantic idealization of nature.
Etcetera.
Planet of the Blind 