It was very hard for me to put my life on paper. It was a very intimate process, very psychological, but at the same time liberating. It was like cleaning the closet, like cleaning the house... It was very refreshing.
Once you clear out from your consciousness things that no longer matter, you're able to make room for other things.
Oh, would that my mind could let fall its dead ideas, as the tree does its withered leaves!
In a well-run mental household there ought to be a thorough cleaning at the threshold of consciousness a few times a year.
I sometimes think it's like a weird elastic band. The more tragic your work is, the quicker you snap back. There's a catharsis in telling a miserable old tale; you get rid of demons.
Sometimes I want to have a mental book burning that would scour my mind clean of all the filthy visions literature has conjured there. But how to do without 'The Illiad?' How to do without 'Macbeth?'
Physically touring is tough on me, not that I am weakling. I lose weight. I can't always find the things I need to keep my strength up. It is very draining physically. It is taxing for my mind and body, but in a good way. It feels healthy in a way to purge things out of my system every night.
I cry a lot. Usually once a day. I think it's one of the most profound forms of human expression.
