The Eyes Are The Window To Where

The More New Yorkers Like Something, The More Disgusted They Are. "the Kitchen Was All Sub-zero: I Want To Kill Myself. The Building Has A Playroom That Makes You Want To Break Your Own Jaw With A Golf Club. I Can't Take It.

I Got A Fan Letter On The Back Of A Prison Menu. And I Remember Thinking, 'well, They Get Pie. It's Not So Bad. They Get Pie On The Weekends.' I Want To Say Blueberry And Also A Boston Cream Pie. Not So Bad.

Thomas Jefferson—another Gorgeous White Boy Who Would Not Have Been Interested In Me. This Was My Problem In A Nutshell. To Get Some Play In Charlottesville, You Had To Be Either A Martha Jefferson Or A Sally Hemings.

If You Ever Start To Feel Good About Yourself... .... They Have This Thing Called The Internet.

I Want To Go To There.