She walked on, comforted by the surf, by the one perpetual moment of beach-time, the now-and-always of it.

I'm a reluctant writer of non-fiction, in part because I don't really feel qualified.

Sometimes, I feel like a time traveller, cause the only way that we can really travel in time is just to get older.

The 'Net is a waste of time.

We have no future because our present is too volatile. We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios. Pattern recognition.

What strikes me about Toronto is that Toronto's great misfortune was to have too much money in the late 70s and early 80s, and consequently, it built in the style of those periods, which is hideous.

Some very considerable part of the gestural language of public places that had once belonged to cigarettes now belonged to phones.