If You Don't Have People That The

Even The Financial Disclosure Statements That Political Bloggers Were Required To Post Hadn't Stemmed The Suspicion That People's Opinions Weren't Really Their Own. "who's Paying You?" Was A Retort That Might Follow Any Bout Of Enthusiasm, Along With Laughter - Who Would Let Themselves Be Bought?

Nineteen Eighty Is Almost Here, Thank God. The Hippies Are Getting Old, They Blew Their Brains On Acid And Now They're Begging On Street Corners All Over San Francisco. Their Hair Is Tangled And Their Bare Feet Are Thick And Gray As Shoes. We're Sick Of Them.

At Night, The House Thick With Sleep, She Would Peer Out Her Bedroom Window At The Trees And Sky And Feel The Presence Of A Mystery. Some Possibility That Included Her--separate From Her Present Life And Without Its Limitations. A Secret. Riding In The Car With Her Father, She Would Look Out At Other Cars Full Of People She'd Never Seen, Any One Of Whom She Might Someday Meet And Love, And Would Feel The World Holding Her Making Its Secret Plans.

'look At Me' Started With Rockford, Illinois And New York And The Question Of How Much Image Culture Was Changing Our Inner Lives. That's An Abstract Idea; You Don't Think That's Going To Be A Rocking Work Of Fiction, But It Seemed To Fuse In A Way That Was Interesting.

I Write My First Draft By Hand, At Least For Fiction. For Non-fiction, I Write Happily On A Computer, But For Fiction I Write By Hand, Because I'm Trying To Achieve A Kind Of Thoughtless State, Or An Unconscious Instinctive State. I'm Not Reading What I Write When I Wrote. It's An Unconscious Outpouring That's A Mess, And It's Many, Many Steps Away From Anything Anyone Would Want To Read. Creating That Way Seems To Generate The Most Interesting Material For Me To Work With, Though.