People Tend To Hold On To Their

I Eat An Egg Every Morning, And When I'm Done, I Almost Always Have The Thought: There. Now Even If I'm Captured And Starved, I'll Be Able To Live Off The Protein Of That Egg For A While.

To Get Anything Done, You Used To Have To Brush Past, Or At Least Lay Eyes On, Someone Whose Reality Was Totally Different From Your Own. That Used To Be Inevitable. If That Goes Away Because Everything's So Convenient, Everything's Brought To You, Well, Then There Goes One Of My Favorite Parts Of Life, And Something That I've Gone Out Of My Way To Court.

The Job Of The Artist Is To Point At Things.

I Guess Like Any Writer Or Screenwriter I'm Alone In My Own World So Much Of The Time That I'm Often Trying To Force Myself Out Of My World. Into More Risk. A Less Controlled Kind Of Inspiration. I'm So Keenly Aware Of How Easy It's Getting To Not Leave The House, With Amazon, Especially.

… It Wasn’t Pretend, I Wasn’t In A Fairytale Or A Fable. I Shut My Eyes And Absorbed The Silent Whoomp That Always Accompanies This Revelation. It’s The Sound Of The Real World, Gigantic And Impossible, Replacing The Smaller Version Of Reality That I Wear Like A Bonnet, Clutched Tightly Under My Chin.