Notes from a Common-place Book: More Travels In the U.K: Some Misfits Along the Way:
I had my regular lunch an old friend. He is a bit conventional in his view of the way things should be. The fact that things were never actually like that in reality is besides the point. I was talking about poetry in general and made the observation that so many poets seemed to be tortured souls, whether it be by alcohol, sex, or substance abuse, and this tension in their lives fueled their poetic impulses. My friend was unwilling to grant the point, and I countered that I thought very little poetry emanated from the easy chairs of suburbia. He was still having none of it, so I herded the conversation on to more well-nibbled pastures.