I offer images-I conjure memories of freedom that can still be reached-like the Doors, right? But we can only open the doors-we can't drag people through.

Is everybody in?... Is everybody in?... Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin... The program for this evening is not new. You've seen this entertainment through and through. You've seen your birth, your life and death. You might recall all the rest. Did you have a good world when you died? Enough to base a movie on?

Actually I don't remember being born, it must have happened during one of my black outs.

The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

I believe in a long, prolonged, derangement of the senses in order to obtain the unknown.

No one here gets out alive.

Where are the feasts we were promised? Where is the wine, the new wine, dying on the vine.