In A Life Properly Lived, You're A

I Did Not Want To Live Out My Life In The Strenuous Effort To Hold A Ghost World Together. It Was Plain As The Stars That Time Herself Moved In Grand Tidal Sweeps Rather Than The Tick-tocks We Suffocate Within, And That I Must Reshape Myself To Fully Inhabit The Earth Rather Than Dawdle In The Sump Of My Foibles.

The Wife Picked Out Ceramic Tile For Floor Covering, Not Realizing That Cost Was Determined By Square Foot, Not Square Yard Like Carpet. Thinking The Price Was Plenty Reasonable, She Had An Extra Room Of Tile Ordered For Installation. When The Bill Arrived, It Was Staggering. She And Her Husband Began A Fight That Continued All Through The Construction Job. They Ended Up Divorced, But Not Until She Had Broken Every Window.

One Of The Curious Effects Of A Bad Hangover Is That You Think You're Wrong Whether You Are Or Not. Not Wrong In Particulars, But Wrong In General, Wrong About Everything.

There Is A Neurologist, A Woman Over At Harvard Who Wanted Me To Come Talk To Them, And In France I Have A Lot Of Readers In The Sciences. I Can't Tell You Why.

Writers Can Write Outside Their Ethnicity Or Sex Depending How Open And Vulnerable They Wish To Be.