My face is contorted in terror and my mouth is wide open. I’m ready to scream that you’re in danger. That you’re on a speeding train which is about to go off a cliff. But no words come out, because I know you won’t understand my warning.
Imagine you desperately needed and wanted to warn someone that something terrible was about to happen, but the two of you spoke different languages. That’s what this feels like.
My words of warning can coming pouring out of my mouth, but almost nobody will hear. Those who do hear will shrug. Even the ones who find my words interesting — or who might suspect I might be right — will go right about their business. The show must go on.
No matter what I do, the grand entertainment of modern American culture will roll right on without me. This dysfunctional culture has no time to listen to something which can’t be presented in the form of entertainment.
And I’ve discovered that I don’t know how to entertain you while I beg you to learn an intellectual and cultural context which is more terrifying than entertaining.
I tried. I really did. But it just doesn’t work.

I’m still the kid who might burn your clubhouse if you cross me
Will you sell more days of your life
Being disconnected from love as close to hell as we’ll find on Earth
Maybe it’s so hard to love others because we don’t love ourselves
My books are time machines that tell you where (and who) I’ve been
Creating work that I’m proud of gives me elusive feelings of joy
Having a bad day? Meg gives you free smiles at the Rainbow Shop