The nerve of some people-I wrote that little blurb, Forty-two days of Solitude, when Dust, Rainbows and Dirty Sox first came out in 2001. [Spoiler alert!] First of all, Sullivan obviously didn't shoot himself-yet. And now he asks me to write another blurb to go inside the new edition: Drugs, Rainbows & Dirty Words. Can't he just let it go? What am I supposed to do? Talk religion? Talk politics? Talk about the bums of Cannery Row-talk about the thousands and thousands of homeless people there are now in a country that could feed the world from its dumpsters and house the poor in its tanks and Hummers, or even set them up in shelters that would withstand tornadoes and hurricanes for a change?Really, you fooled us with that "42 days of solitude with breaks"-it's really more Jack Kerouac than Gabriel Garcia Marquez. (But is it true that Hey, Diddle Diddle-Blood is the Riddle is supposed to be an homage to Love in the Time of Cholera?) - Heather Macleod 2008