I Turned Forty, And Im Finally Going

Have I Mentioned That I Expect Death Around Every Turn, That Every Blue Sky Has A Safe Sailing Out Of It, That Every Bus Runs Me Over, That Every Low, Mean Syllable Uttered In My Direction Seems To Intimate The Violence Of Murder, That Every Family Seems Like An Opportunity For Ruin And Every Marriage A Ceremony Into Which Calamity Will Fall And Hearts Will Be Broken And Lives Destroyed And People Branded By The Mortifications Of Love?

I Suppose I Should Say That I Treasure Blasphemy, As A Faith Of The Highest Order.

I Am In Boston Right Now, In Fact, To Do Work At The New England Historical Genealogical Library, Where I'm Trying To Finish Up Tracing My Lineage Back To The Seventeenth Century.

I Think People On Antidepressants Often Lose Sexual Feelings. I Don't Mean That I Think Sex Is Only About Sadness; It Is Obviously About Joy And Vitality And Birth As Well.

Capitalism, In The Realm Of Sexuality, I Figure, Thinks That We Behave In Specific Ways, Like A Breast Is Always Going To Produce A Hard-on For Some Product, Whereas The Truth Is That Sexuality Is Always A Continuum, Which Can Be Characterized By Reversals.