We Buy Balloons, We Let Them Go.

What Keeps Me Interested--and It Always Does--is How Can She Be A Bad Actress On Film But A Good One In Reality?

I Don't Want To Care. If I Care About Things, It'll Just Be Worse, It'll Just Be Another Thing To Worry About. It's Less Painful If I Don't Care.

She Laughs And Looks Out The Window And I Think For A Minute That She's Going To Start To Cry. I'm Standing By The Door And I Look Over At The Elvis Costello Poster, At His Eyes, Watching Her, Watching Us, And I Try To Get Her Away From It, So I Tell Her To Come Over Here, Sit Down, And She Thinks I Want To Hug Her Or Something And She Comes Over To Me And Puts Her Arms Around My Back And Says Something Like 'i Think We've All Lost Some Sort Of Feeling.

No One Is Drawn To Writing About Being Happy Or Feelings Of Joy.

I've Been Accused Of Being Very Vain About My Apathy.