One of the things I learned, one of the strangest things, is how to think. There was nothing else to do. I couldn't see people, or go for a walk in the forest. All I had was my head and my books, and I thought a lot.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I used to be able to think. My brain's circuits were all connected, and I had spark, a quickness of mind that let me function well in the world.
I have an unusual type of thinking. I have no visual memory whatsoever. Everything is conceptual to me.
When in the end, the day came on which I was going away, I learned the strange learning that things can happen which we ourselves cannot possibly imagine, either beforehand, or at the time when they are taking place, or afterwards when we look back on them.
The weirdest thing about a mind is that you can have the most intense things going on in there, but no one else can see them.
When I knew nothing, I thought I could do anything.
Was it only by dreaming or writing that I could find out what I thought?
I think it was when I ran into Kerouac and Burroughs - when I was 17 - that I realized I was talking through an empty skull... I wasn't thinking my own thoughts or saying my own thoughts.
Getting close to books, and spending time by myself, I was obliged to think about things I would never have thought about if I was busy romping around with a brother and sister.
When I was a kid, I never thought about anything. Never had to think about where I was going to school or what I was going to do. I just lived minute to minute.
I used to have to force myself to go, okay, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing and then all of a sudden a thought of some where could come in. Now I can just focus and not think about anything. So, yeah, I guess I do that a lot.