My Mother Began To Go Crazy. Not

Maybe You Feel Pressure To Be Positive Because So Many People Rely On Your Good, Fake-positive Energy? If That's The Case, Screw Everybody Else. You're Not A Bottle Of Valium.

I'm Grateful For A Lot Of Things. One Is Not Being A Drunk Wreck. Or Losing All Four Limbs In Some Ridiculous East Village Bus Accident That I Was So Destined For.

New York City Is A Place Where You Can Lock Yourself Up In Your Little Studio Apartment, And Not Go Outside At All, And Not Feel In The Slightest Guilty About It.

I Was In Advertising For Years. That Was Cushy, You Know? It's Pretty Cushy In A Lot Of Ways, But I Hated It.

My Mother Began To Go Crazy. Not In A 'let's Paint The Kitchen Red!' Sort Of Way. But Crazy In A 'gas Oven, Toothpaste Sandwhich, I Am God' Sort Of Way.