People dress up their figures to be stylish their words to be proper their thoughts to be clever their hair to be pretty their minds to be accepted their hearts never to be hurt. Until today I've always thought the effort to make my words pretty was motivated by something artistic. When really the motive is no different than the little voice which says: "An Armani suit is better than a flannel shirt." Fashion, or the inherited conceptions of people reconfigured so as to appear new, has been the driving force of my life, whether positively as a supporter or negatively as a rebel. But I don't accept one word of it. Nor do I accept the casuistry called arguments which people use to defend their various modes of fashion or opinion. It is all pure rubbish and stale whose defenders use words cooked in the very same pot as their beliefs. Now consider this: It doesn't matter what you look like so long as it reflects the dignity of your nature; it doesn't matter what you sound like so long as it's the voice of your own heart; and it doesn't matter what you think so long as the thoughts are your own. The rest is garbage, an don't let them tell you otherwise. If the above philosophy renders me ugly and misunderstood: oh well. Those words come from *their* vocabulary, anyway.