Or were they bound in slow-cooking love-hate, a folie à deux obscure to anyone outside their secret system? - Jonathan Lethem

Here’s the strangeness of having a Tourette’s brain, then: no control in my personal experiment of self. What might be only strangeness must always be auditioned for relegation to the domain of symptom, just as symptoms always push into other domains, demanding the chance to audition for their moment of acuity or relevance, their brief shot — coulda been a contender! — at centrality. Personalityness. There’s a lot of traffic in my head, and it’s two-way.

...Paranoid art, unlike paranoid persons, also distrusts itself. And so, paranoid art is the ultimate opposite, the urgent opposite, of complacent art.

Someday I'd change my name to Shut Up and save everybody a lot of time.