When knowledge becomes formulated into a science, then it does take on a life of it's own, often alien to the human spirit that conceived it.

Science fiction is for real, space opera is for fun.

When you are young, you enjoy a sustained illusion that sooner or later something marvelous is going to happen, that you are going to transcend your parents' limitations.

It is comparatively easy to become a writer; staying a writer, resisting formulaic work, generating ones own creativity - thats a much tougher matter.

The prose poem Walk The Red Road is great stuff and deserves to be read aloud. It compares quite favorably to The Walls Of Emerald by Li Chiang Yen, a Chinese poet of the late Tang period.

It is at night... that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull.

Whatever creativity is, it is in part a solution to a problem.