Belief And Delusion Are Incestuous Siblings.

I Spotted A Can In The Corner Whose Red Label Read Sadness. Was There So Much Of It They Could Can It And Sell It? A Bolt Of Pain Went Through My Intestines Before I Realized That It Was Not Sadness But Sardines.

Where Can You Go From Nowhere, Except Deeper Into Nowhere?

I Think About The Story While I Think About Other Things. This Is An Important Part Of The Process: I Look At It Sideways. If I Look Straight At It, It Produces Nothing Other Than What Seem Like Complicated, Brilliant Designs That Fall Apart The Following Morning. In Some Way Stories Mature When You're Not Looking.

I Long For, Not A Writer's Retreat - I Can Write In Any Situation - But A Reader's Retreat.

When I Was Young, I Was All About Personal Sovereignty And That Junk, Because There Was No Privacy And The Available Ideologies Were Collective, Both Socialism/communism And Nationalism.