Adjust My Dreams For Me.

I've Never Written An Autobiographical Novel In My Life. I've Never Touched Upon My Life. I've Never Written A Single Scene That I Can Say Took Place.

I Tried To Make Meat Loaf Out Of The Girl But It Becomes Too Frustrating A Task And Instead I Spend The Afternoon Smearing Her Meat All Over The Walls, Chewing On Strips Of Skin I Ripped From Her Body

Are You As Much Of A Criminal If You Don't Act When There's A Crime Taking Place In Front Of You As You Are One Of The Participants? That Was Something That I Was Thinking About A Lot Because There Are Many Moments In 'less Than Zero' Where Horrific Things Happen And Clay Could Do Something About Them, But His Passivity Stops Him.

When We Sat Down To Eat I Took Inventory Of The People In The Room, And The Remnants Of My Good Mood Evaporated When I Realized How Very Little I Had In Common With Them – The Career Dads, The Responsible And Diligent Moms – And I Was Soon Filled With Dread And Loneliness. I Locked In On The Smug Feeling Of Superiority That Married Couples Give Off And That Permeated The Air – The Shared Assumptions, The Sweet And Contented Apathy, It All Lingered Everywhere – Despite The Absence In The Room Of Anyone Single At Which To Aim This.

But This Road Doesn't Go Anywhere,” I Told Him. “that Doesn't Matter.” “what Does?” I Asked, After A Little While. “just That We're On It, Dude,” He Said.