After The Trial, I Watched As Another

Across Town, Over In The East Village, The Graffiti Was Calling For The Rich To Be Eaten, Imprisoned, Or Taxed Out Of Existence. Though It Sometimes Seemed Like A Nice Idea, I Hoped The Revolution Would Not Take Place During My Lifetime. I Didn't Want The Rich To Go Away Until I Could At Least Briefly Join Their Ranks.

I've Never Written About Sex In My Diary. Like If You Read My Diary, You Wouldn't Think I'm A Virgin, But You Would Have No Idea What It Is That I've Actually Ever Done.

It Makes Me Wonder Sometimes. Remember A Couple Years Ago, When Mexicans Went On Strike? It Was Talked About A Little Bit But Not That Much. But Some Old White People, And There Aren't Even That Many, They Put Bonnets On, And Then They Control The News.

Even As A Child I Was Fascinated By Death, Not In A Spiritual Sense, But In An Aesthetic One. A Hamster Or Guinea Pig Would Pass Away, And, After Burying The Body, I'd Dig It Back Up: Over And Over, Until All That Remained Was A Shoddy Pelt. It Earned Me A Certain Reputation, Especially When I Moved On To Other People's Pets. "igor," They Called Me. "wicked, Spooky." But I Think My Interest Was Actually Fairly Common, At Least Among Adolescent Boys. At That Age, Death Is Something That Happens Only To Animals And Grandparents, And Studying It Is Like A Science Project.

He's As Nutty As A Vegan T-bone.