You Could Drown A Kitten In Her

I Write Almost Entirely In Bed Or On A Couch With My Feet Up On The Coffee Table. I Feel Most Creative When Im Looking Out The Window, And My Bed And Couch Have Nice Views Of The New York Skyline.

We Are Now Part Of This Giant Machine Where Every Second We Have To Take Out A Device And Contribute Our Thoughts And Opinions.

If You Stop Thinking, If You Stop Wondering, You Die.

My Parents Were Kind Enough To Spend Hours Talking To Me.

Then I Celebrated My Wall Of Books. I Counted The Volumes On My Twenty-foot-long Modernist Bookshelf To Make Sure None Had Been Misplaced Or Used As Kindling By My Subtenant. “you’re My Sacred Ones,” I Told The Books. “no One But Me Still Cares About You. But I’m Going To Keep You With Me Forever. And One Day I’ll Make You Important Again.” I Thought About That Terrible Calumny Of The New Generation: That Books Smell.