When I Write, I Wear Earplugs. I

Nothing Really Mattered, And Nothing Could Be Lost.

We Had Loved People We Really Shouldn't Have Loved And Then Married Other People In Order To Forget Our Impossible Loves, Or We Had Once Called Out Hello Into The Cauldron Of The World And Then Run Away Before Anyone Could Respond.

The Job Of The Artist Is To Point At Things.

If You Are Sad, Ask Yourself Why You Are Sad. Then Pick Up The Phone And Call Someone And Tell Him The Answer To The Question. If You Don't Know Anyone, Call The Operator And Tell Him. Most People Don't Know That The Operator Has To Listen, It Is A Law. Also, The Postman Is Not Allowed To Go Inside Your House, But You Can Talk To Him On Public Property For Up To Four Minutes Or Until He Wants To Go, Whichever Comes First.

I Really Did Not Feel Okay About Any Of This, And There Was Really Nothing I Could Do About Any Of It.