I Think Because I Write So Many

Somewhat Predictably, I'm Much More Comfortable In Front Of An Audience - And A Big Audience Is Even Better - Than Faced With One Stranger. This Always Seems Like A Bit Of A Failing On My Part, As A Human. I Think That's Also Why I Put Myself Situations Where I'm Forced To Engage In Other Ways.

When I Was Very Little, I Probably Wanted To Be More Normal. I Probably Wanted The Laura Ashley Bedroom, And Instead I Got Thrift-store Everything.

If There Were A Map Of The Solar System, But Instead Of Stars It Showed People And Their Degrees Of Separation, My Star Would Be The One You Had To Travel The Most Light-years From To Get To His. You Would Die Getting To Him.

To Get Anything Done, You Used To Have To Brush Past, Or At Least Lay Eyes On, Someone Whose Reality Was Totally Different From Your Own. That Used To Be Inevitable. If That Goes Away Because Everything's So Convenient, Everything's Brought To You, Well, Then There Goes One Of My Favorite Parts Of Life, And Something That I've Gone Out Of My Way To Court.

And Why Had Deb's Last Boyfriend Dumped Her? I Dumped Him. Maybe You Didn't French-kiss Him Enough. I Promise You That Wasn't It. Tell Me How Many Times A Day You Kissed, And I'll Say If It Was Enough. Four Hundred. Not Enough.