Mine Is Not An Autonomous Imagination.

Something Changed. Somewhere Along The Line You Stopped Accelerating.

What I'm Nostalgic For Is The Idea Of An Edge In New York. There Used To Be These Fringes Of The City Where Civilization Sort Of Ended, And Therefore Young People Could Live Cheaply, Or Open Nightclubs Or Art Galleries, Or Even Squat. That Fringe Moved Out To New Jersey And Brooklyn. The Whole Idea Of The Metropolis Is The Centralization Of Like-minded Souls, And When The Central Real Estate Becomes Too Expensive, The Dreamers, The Young Poets, And The Artists Will Go Elsewhere.

My Former Wife Is A Very Eccentric Woman, Which Is Why I Still Love Her.

Bottles Of Wine Aren't Like Paintings. At Some Point You Have To Consume Them. The Object In Life Is To Die With No Bottles Of Wine In Your Cellar. To Drink Your Last Bottle Of Wine And Go To Sleep That Night And Not Wake Up.

I Envy Those Writers Who Outline Their Novels, Who Know Where They're Going. But I Find Writing Is A Process Of Discovery.