If You Tell Them What They Want

Because There's Nothing Wrong With You... That Can't Be Fixed.

Writers Are Also Sort Of Like Vultures, But With Fewer Ethics.

He Took Comfort In The Neon Signs, The Wild Strands Of Jazz Creeping Out Of Clubs Whenever Happy Swells Of People Pushed Through The Doors In Their Finery.

You Evah Hear Of A Magic Screw?' I Cough Back A Laugh. 'no. No, Sir.

My Misery Is Reaching Epidemic Proportions.