The bitter arrogant souls of humankind, their unfulfilled potential! Too many of these pink fleshy probes wandering around through the city streets and in their precious cars, old-faced drunks sniffing in bedrooms, happy old ladies in bingo and memories and shopping bags, the billion upholders of the status quo, the thoughtless myriad throng waning and weeping in night and day, drunk kids laughing manically in blood-filled electric lust, all of them creeping like ants to their pre-ordained destinations, with thoughts of TV sex music food alcohol, all the yuppies of forever in clashing restaurants, and the students! Bloody, yapping, dumb little students light-headed and laughging at nothing, wet behind the ears, arrogantly ill-at-ease, stupidly relaxed and all-knowing. The cabdrivers and their fuck-witted tearful partners in dives and hotels, all the junkies in their cavelike abodes, the fat pox-ridden prostitutes with mean faces and abortions, the swish restaurateur with his new silken tie, the punk girls at streetcorners plotting some vacant doldrum, the brain-dead casual boys frozen in a violent stillbirth, the craggy-faced oldsters in caps and pathetic solitary meals. All of them asleep, awake, fighting, fucking, eating, drinking, talking, laughing, crying, till every activity becomes the same thing, every sound merges into the same neutral, high hum of life, and even the death cries and weepings of bereavement contribute to the constantly-swelling symphony, until finally the great sound, the great protest produced by all this humanity, becomes the same tone, huge, sublime, grotesquely beautiful, a soaring panicy spasm of the collective voice... It flattens out into the hush of the cosmos itself, as understated and calm as the distant sound of waves on the shore... And there's your communication, in which you are enmeshed and enmerged, and in which every protest you make becomes a newer tremor of its ultimate failure.