So I found myself chucked into horrible, scathing nostalgia recently. I didn't like it, but it happened. It gives you only one thing to do, actually. Become wolfman. Run fast, dig holes, hide in said holes. Just so an "old friend" can't find you.
Swallowing incoherence,
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Contributions to white noise.
Necessities and Refusals
Howard Roark never compromised, why should I? Art is not obliged to make explanations or apologies to its audience. The Artist creates for himself only, not to make money or gain recognition. I will simply create, and damn those of you who are embarassed by honesty. Those who are honest feel no shame.
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