As A Bookish Adolescent, I Sopped Up

Just As The Blurring Between Childhood And Adulthood Has Produced The Kidult, So The Stretching Of Middle Into Old Age Has Fostered Another Peculiar Chimera: Septuagenarians With Apoptosis Sporting The Depeche Mode.

The Novelist, Quite Rightly, Fears The Psychoanalyst As Both An Enemy And A Usurper.

Many Of My Works Fall Into The Category Of "zeitgeist Novels." Yet I Hope That They Aren't Only Reportage, But Also Attempts To Convey The Sense Of The Present To The Future.

Regard Yourself As A Small Corporation Of One. Take Yourself Off On Team-building Exercises (long Walks). Hold A Christmas Party Every Year At Which You Stand In The Corner Of Your Writing Room, Shouting Very Loudly To Yourself While Drinking A Bottle Of White Wine. Then Masturbate Under The Desk. The Following Day You Will Feel A Deep And Cohering Sense Of Embarrassment.

Because I Was A Young Man So, Of Course, I Did Get Into Fights. The Last Time I Actually Was In A Fight, In The Sense Of Throwing Punches Myself, Was Probably When I Was At College, Not Since 1980. But I Remember Being Attacked Quite A Few Times In The '80s.