And Why Had Deb's Last Boyfriend Dumped

He Was Worried She Would Not Let Him Love Her With The Stain. He Had Already Decided Long Ago, Twenty Or Thirty Minutes Ago, That The Stain Was Fine. He Had Only Seen It For A Moment, But He Was Already Used To It. It Was Good. It Somehow Allowed Them To Have More.

When You're Not Doing Fiction, There's A Limit To How Much Illustrating You Can Do With Your Work. I Mean, You Can Do Fine. There Are Great Non-fiction Writers, But People Aren't Necessarily Going To Say Anything That Reveals Them As Much As A Picture Might. Even Their Surroundings, In Lot Of Cases, The Things That Meant The Most To Me Were The Things I Noticed In Their Houses. I Was Always Looking, As Much As I Was Listening To Them. I Was Looking Around For Clues As To Why I Was There.

Most Great Filmmakers Are Good At Place. Like How People Say, Like, "the City Itself Is A Character In The Movie," You Know? I'm So Interior. I Always Forget There's Such A Thing As An Exterior Wide Shot, Where You Can See Where Someone Is. As Opposed To Just: How Can We Show What This Person Is Thinking, In An Abstract Way That Is Felt?

I Wondered If I Would Spend The Rest Of My Life Inventing Complicated Ways To Depress Myself.

I Realize That We All Think We Might Be Terrible People. But We Only Reveal This Before We Ask Someone To Love Us. It Is A Kind Of Undressing.