An artist needs a certain amount of turmoil and confusion.
Eventually, with success, I started to feel more and more isolated - like I didn't have a community of artists.
Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone.
A few drinks later you're not so choosy when the closing lights strip off the shadows on this strange new flesh you've found.
All the news of home you read, more about the war and of bloody changes.
My individual, psychological descent coincided, ironically, with my ascent into the public eye.