The Dreams Are The Skeleton Of All

Being Somebody: It's One Of The Ideas In Life, No? That's What My Father Made Clear To Me. The Importance Of Being Somebody. He Wanted To Be Somebody. And He Underlined To Me The Fate Of Trying To Be Somebody And Not Quite Managing To Do It.

I Don't Hold Myself Dictated To By What Everyone Is Saying, By The Tabloids Or Popular Opinion. I Don't Like Bourgeois Values. I Say You Find Your Own Way To Live.

There Is No Complete Life. There Are Only Fragments. We Are Born To Have Nothing, To Have It Pour Through Our Hands. And Yet, This Pouring, This Flood Of Encounters, Struggles, Dreams...

A Writer Writes A Book. People Read It. You Don't Know What They're Reading, Really. You Read A Review And Think, "that Is So Inaccurate. You Can't Have Been Reading My Book With Any Kind Of Attention, Because That Is All Wrong, That's Even The Wrong Name You're Including There." But These Reviewers Have Been Diminished In Importance, The Work Is So Little Respected. If You're Reviewed By A Real Critic, By James Wood Or Louis Menand, Then You Get Something That Is Informed, Interesting, And Highly Articulate. But The Average Review Doesn't Have That Kind Of Depth Anymore.

I Write Down Portions, Maybe Fragments, And Perhaps An Imperfect View Of What Im Hoping To Write. Out Of That, I Keep Trying To Find Exactly What I Want.