I Don't Like Travelling If I Know

I Mean, I'm Always Happy If I Have, Like, Humiliating Asshole Things That I Did. I Think: Oh Good, That's A Good Story. Because If You Write About Humiliating Asshole Things Other People Do It Doesn't Work As Well. I Mean, You Can, But You Can Get Away With It Better If You Talk About What An Asshole You Are. It's Much Easier.

Say What You Will About The South, But In North Carolina A Hot Dog Is Free To Swing Anyway It Wishes.

Their House Had Real Hardcover Books In It, And You Often Saw Them Lying Open On The Sofa, The Words Still Warm From Being Read.

I’d Always Been Afraid Of Sick People, And So Had My Mother. It Wasn’t That We Feared Catching Their Brain Aneurysm Or Accidentally Ripping Out Their Iv. I Think It Was Their Fortitude That Frightened Us. Sick People Reminded Us Not Of What We Had, But Of What We Lacked. Everything We Said Sounded Petty And Insignificant; Our Complaints Paled In The Face Of Theirs, And Without Our Complaints, There Was Nothing To Say.

I Had To Wrestle Daily With Both My Inadequacy And My Uncontrollable Jealousy. I Didn't Want To Kill Her, But Hoped Someone Else Might Do The Job For Me.