This Lunge At Moral Fastidiousness Was Something

Don't Make Your Own Life Your Project In Your Own Life: Total Waste Of Time.

All The Way Out I Listen To The Car Am Radio, Bad Lyrics Of Trailer Park Love, Gin And Tonic Love, Strobe Light Love, Lost And Found Love, Lost And Found And Lost Love, Lost And Lost And Lost Love—some People Were Having No Luck At All. The Dj Sounds Quick And Smooth And After-shaved, The Rest Of The World A Mess By Comparison.

To Me, Writing Is Much Freer Than Dancing. With Writing, You Could Do It Whenever You Wanted. You Didnt Have To Do Little Exercises And Stay In Shape. You Could Have Great Moments Of Inspiration That Advanced The Story. In Dance, Unless Youre Going To Choreograph Things Yourself, Youre At The Service Of Someone Else.

Perhaps She Drives Men Away. Perhaps, Without Even Being Able To Help Herself, She Just Puts Men Into Her Ill-tempered Car And Drives Them Off: To Quarries, Dumps, Small Anonymous Bodies Of Water.

Every Arrangement In Life Carried With It The Sadness, The Sentimental Shadow, Of Its Not Being Something Else, But Only Itself.