When I was a much younger woman, as part of the divorce settlement from my then-millionaire inventor husband, I asked for our house in Connecticut, a modest amount of alimony, and six sexy cowboy robots. Sentient sex toys, if you will.
It's no secret the daily grind has us spiritually starved. Health experts report that white-collar suicide rates have reached an all-time high. And while statistics suggest that a tendency to religiosity has a protective effect, faith is hard to manufacture. For a generation reared on personal growth and psychic development, however, alternatives abound. Some go in for crystal healing; others take up yoga classes. Not a few have recourse to drugs. Betty Lyons drilled a hole in her head.
Sleep descended from exhaustion after a day's labor, / the warehoused rows of young victims, whimpering. / Nil, nix. How did you dream in a red brick asylum?
