honesty

the only thing i can really say in favor of my work is that i try to be
absolutely honest. this doesn't mean things aren't hidden; there are
things i curse myself for daily, hourly, that remain in the dark, that i
try to subvert, repress, rescind. but what is said is the truth as i find
it, which of course is no truth at all. i am a brilliant musician for
example by virtue of being a fraud; i am a selfish friend and lover
perhaps, always on the mend, emending, making amends. i believe others may
be the same, feel the same, scratch away at similar surfaces; for example,
celine was braver than i, perhaps vile to a greater degree. i know where i
stand; like other deluded people, perhaps, if i am so, i revel in my mind,
in the dismal horizon of future discovery which will never come, but
always seems just within reach. if at this point i am a menace to others,