from "The Books in My Life"

My encounters with books I regard very much as my encounters with other phenomena of life or thought. All encounters are configurate, not isolate. In this sense, and in this sense only, books are as much a part of life as trees, stars or dung. I have no reverence for them per se. Nor do I put authors in any special, privileged category. If I defend them now and then- as a class- it is because I believe that, in our society at least, they have never achieved the status and the consideration they merit...

I am rediscovering Henry Miller and remembering his genius. I love him for his honesty, for his humility, for his nature and for following it. I love it because he will not call himself a Writer, but he will call himself Human. This common thread too is what I believe in. Before we are anything else we happen to be, we are human. He celebrates this, he devours it and bathes in it. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the harsh, the pornographic, the romantic, the dirt, the Heaven, the Hell, the whore, the Virgin, Brooklyn, Paris, filth, cheap wine and smoky cafes to Big Sur sunsets. He experiences it, so he writes it.


I am on the side of revelation, if not always on the side of beauty, truth, wisdom, harmony, and ever-evolving perfection.