And What We Were Trying To Offer

I Still Get My News From The Newspaper In The Morning. I Just Have An Affection For Paper, And That's No Secret, I Guess.

God: I Own You Like I Own The Caves. The Ocean: Not A Chance. No Comparison. God: I Made You. I Could Tame You. The Ocean: At One Time, Maybe. But Not Now. God: I Will Come To You, Freeze You, Break You. The Ocean: I Will Spread Myself Like Wings. I Am A Billion Tiny Feathers. You Have No Idea What's Happened To Me.

When You're In Your Twenties In A New City Where No One's From Here, We're All Sort Of Orphans. The Only People That You Can Count On Our Bunch Of People That You Work With And That You Know. You're Only As Good As The Reliability Of That Latticework.

To Me Any Given Story Has Its Appropriate Form. There Might Be Some Story I Get Involved With That's Begging To Be A Graphic Novel, So That Will Have To Be That Way.

This Boy Thinks I Am Not Of His Species, That I Am Some Other Kind Of Creature, One That Can Be Crushed Under The Weight Of A Phone Book. The Pain Is Not Great, But The Symbolism Is Disagreeable.