Jeremy, Good Luck On Your First Marriage.

I Think I Became A Better Writer After I Started Writing For The New Yorker. Well, I Know I Did. And Part Of It Was Having My New Yorker Editor And Part Of It Is That Was When I Started Really Going On Tour And Reading Things In Front Of An Audience 30 Times And Then Going Back In The Room And Rewriting It And Reading It And Rewriting It. So You Really Get The Rhythm Of The Sentences Down And You Really Get The Flow Down And You Get Rid Of Stuff That's Not Important.

But Instead I Am Applying For A Job As An Elf. Even Worse Than Applying Is The Very Real Possibility That I Will Not Be Hired, That I Couldn't Even Find Work As An Elf. That's When You Know You're A Failure.

I Like The Trail That The Internet Created. For Example, I Was Watching One Of Those Douglas Sirk Movies, And I Noticed That Rock Hudson Towered Over Everyone, And I Typed In "how Tall Was" And I Saw "how Tall Was Jesus," And I'm Like, "sure," And Half An Hour Later You're Somewhere You Didn't Expect To Be. It Doesn't Work That Same Way In Books, Does It? Even If You Have An Encyclopedia, The Trail Isn't That Crazy. I Like That Aspect Of It.

I Gave My Mother A Matching Set [of Mugs] For Christmas, And She Accepted Them As Graciously As Possible, Announcing That They Would Make The Perfect Pet Bowls. The Mugs Were Set On The Kitchen Floor And Remained There Until The Cat Chipped A Tooth And Went On A Hunger Strike.

I Started Typing Diary In, I Don't Know, 1978 Or '79, But Then The Computer Changed That A Lot. Because With The Computer If You Were Writing And You Realized You Had Three Sentences In A Row That Started With The Word "he," You Could Fix That Right Up, Whereas On A Typewriter You'd Think, "well, I'm Not Going To Change The Whole Page. It's My Diary." So That Made A Difference.