I Don't Want To Indulge Myself In

There's Something About The Rhythms Of Language That Correspond To The Rhythms Of Our Own Bodies.

To The Resentment That Hides Inside Love, To The Loneliness That Hides Among Companions.

For Those Whose Ganglia Were Formed Pre-tv, The Mimetic Deployment Of Pop-culture Icons Seems At Best An Annoying Tic And At Worst A Dangerous Vapidity That Compromises Fiction's Seriousness By Dating It Out Of The Platonic Always, Where It Ought To Reside.

As Much As I Revere Great Writing, And Am Still Humbled By It, Literary Activities Are No Longer Esoteric To Me. When I Read A Great Novel - Something That I Could Never Have Written Myself - I'm Still Looking At It A Little Bit Like A Technician.

The Computer Is The Way I'm Making Books, But I Still Think About The Physical Properties. I Visualize The Length Of A Book, The Proportions Of A Book, In Material Terms.