Looking after your children can be another way of giving up. Well, they become the whole ones, the well ones, the ones who don’t drink too much, get divorced, become mentally ill. You spend so much time guarding them against decay and depression that you end up decayed and depressed.
It’s a f***ing nightmare, being lucid. My inner-life, Johnny, is an endless reel of decapitations and dogs fighting over the liver that I’d quite like back, thank you very much. Oblivion would be wonderful, if I didn’t have this horror of forgetting.