The Reason It's Hard For Me To

It's Hard To Leave New York: This Is Where My Friends Are, My Parents Are. It Is So Vital. The Whole World Seems To Look To New York.

One Last Thing On Objectives - I Like To Make Things, Create Things, So That's Probably Been The Primary Objective All Along, Even Before The Ego Objective - To Make. To Record. But Why Record... That Gets Back To The Ego, A Little. Oh, Well. Making Is Good. I Like To Make Things.

The Work Changes The Way Your Face Changes And Ages - It Just Does. Also, I Have Very Little Connection To Anything I've Written. I Move On. We All Move On

Nothing Wrong With Changing Your Mind. That's A Very Unwaffling Thing To Say: "nothing Wrong..." Who Am I To Say That There's Nothing Wrong With It? Maybe Something Is Wrong With Changing Your Mind. Anyway, Love Is Very, Very Difficult. I Love. But Probably Because I Hate Myself On Some Deep, Sick Level, It Makes Loving Difficult. But I Do Try.

Even When I Was Living Below The Poverty Line As A Novelist, I Was Still Living Better Than 99.5% Of The Human Population Of The World. But In My Little, Soft Realm Of Trying To Amuse A Few Dozen Middle-class People With My Books And Articles, I Did Struggle To Survive In My Own Way.