For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.

I liked looking on at other people in crucial situations. If there was a road accident or a street fight or a baby pickled in a laboratory jar for me to look at, I'd stop and look so hard I never forgot it.

They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

I felt wise and cynical as all hell.

I can't think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated.

I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.

There ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.