Isolationism is over.

Hunter and I never got proper journalistic accreditation to go anywhere. Nobody was giving us passes to go in here or there. We always had to somehow talk our way in.

The betrayal of people's good will, good trust that things are being done for the best and they actually ARE being done for the best.

There is no truly global justice.

Beware of privilege. It stinks of rotten fish heads, many of which were lapping the shore beneath the jetties.

What actually happened was that Rolling Stone paid me fifteen hundred dollars for the use of all the drawings - about twenty four of them - and then offered to buy the originals from me, which my agent urged 'was a good move!'. He sold the whole damn treasure trove to Jann Wenner for the princely sum of sixty dollars per drawing. I rue the day I let him convince me.

I am an artist, I trade in uncertainty and superstition and cant. I invent dark visions of impossible situations that can never be resolved.