As A Child I Assumed That When

A Good [short Story] Would Take Me Out Of Myself And Then Stuff Me Back In, Outsized, Now, And Uneasy With The Fit.

Watching Him Was Like Opening The Door To A Siniging Telegram; You Know It's Supposed To Be Entertaining, But You Can't Get Beyond The Sad Fact That This Person Actually Thinks He Bringing Some Joy Into Your Life. Somewhere He Had A Mother Who Sifted Through A Shoe Box Of Mimeographed Playbills, Pouring Herself Another Drink And Wondering When Her Son Would Come To His Senses And Swallow Some Drain Cleaner.

Because I've Always Been A Fairly Nervous Person.

As A Child I Assumed That When I Reached Adulthood, I Would Have Grown-up Thoughts.

One Thing I Like About The United States, And I Kind Of Miss About The United States, Is There's An Election Coming Up Here In England, But No One's Going To Have A Sign In Front Of Their House. Nobody's Going To Wear Buttons. And In France, Same Thing. In America I Like That People Have Signs And Buttons And Bumper Stickers. Sometimes You'll Smile At Someone From A Distance, Then You'll Get Up Close And You'll See Their Pin, And You're Like, "oh My God. I Wasted A Smile On You?"