"Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon.
Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say. Like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves.
Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king.
Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to."
"We are told, you know, 'You can wander around with in the sanctioned playpen of ordinary consciousness, and we have some intoxicants over here if you wanna mess your self up, we’ve got some scotch here and some tobacco and red meat and some sugar and a little T.V.' and so forth and so on.
But, these boundary dissolving hallucinogens that give you a sense of unity with your fellow man and nature are somehow forbidden. This is an outrage - It’s a sign of cultural immaturity and the fact that we tolerate it is a sign that we are living in a society as oppressed as any society in the past."
“Liars don’t like me. People who lie, people who live a lie. There’s people who love living lies. I was thinking the other day, ‘brutal honesty’ is a dumb term. The word ‘brutal’ should be associated with lying, like “You’re a brutal liar”, as opposed to somebody who’s just going to inform you of what they believe the truth to be. I love honest shit, man. You can’t fuck with the truth”