The World Seemed To Shimmer A Little

It's Not What I'd Want For At My Funeral. When I Die, I Just Want Them To Plant Me Somewhere Warm. And Then When The Pretty Women Walk Over My Grave I Would Grab Their Ankles, Like In That Movie.

In Reality The World Is Made Of Thousands Of Groups Of About Five Hundred People, All Of Whom Will Spend Their Lives Bumping Into Each Other, Trying To Avoid Each Other, And Discovering Each Other In The Same Unlikely Teashop In Vancouver. There Is An Unavoidability To This Process. It's Not Even Coincidence. It's Just The Way The World Works, With No Regard For Individuals Or Propriety.

Identity Can Be So Gelatinous Sometimes.

There Will Always Be People Who Are Much Better At Doing This Or Doing That, But You Are The Only You.

If You Only Write When Inspired, You May Be A Fairly Decent Poet, But You'll Never Be A Novelist.