I Am Neither Spontaneous Nor Ready For

There Is Supercomputer Somewhere In The Nevada Desert Whose Sole Function Is To Count The Number Of Times That I Have Said The Following, Because It Is Unquantifiable By Human Minds At This Point, But This Time It’s Really True: I Should Have Stayed Home.

I Do Not Go Outdoors. Not More Than I Have To. As Far As I'm Concerned, The Whole Point Of Living In New York City Is Indoors. You Want Greenery? Order The Spinach.

Altruism Is Innate, But It's Not Instinctual. Everybody's Wired For It, But A Switch Has To Be Flipped.

I Find Life Itself Provides Ample And Sufficient Tests Of My Valor And Mettle: Illness; Betrayal; Fruitless Searches For Love; Working For The Abusive, The Insane, And The Despotic. All Challenges Easily As Thrilling To Me As Scrambling Over Icy Rock In A Pair Of Barely Adequate Boots.

Is There Some Lesson On How To Be Friends? I Think What It Means Is That Central To Living A Life That Is Good Is A Life That's Forgiving. We're Creatures Of Contact Regardless Of Whether We Kiss Or We Wound. Still, We Must Come Together. Though It May Spell Destruction, We Still Ask For More-- Since It Beats Staying Dry But So Lonely On Shore. So We Make Ourselves Open While Knowing Full Well It's Essentially Saying "please, Come Pierce My Shell.