Central To Living A Life That Is

The Only Thing That Makes One An Artist Is Making Art. And That Requires The Precise Opposite Of Hanging Out; A Deeply Lonely And Unglamorous Task Of Tolerating Oneself Long Enough To Push Something Out.

In My Brief Glimpse Of What Is To Come I Realize How Little I Care To Witness It. I Have Seen The Future And I'm Fairly Relieved To Say, It Looks Nothing Like Me.

Everybody's Got Something. In The End, What Choice Does One Really Have But To Understand That Truth, To Really Take It In, And Then Shop For Groceries, Get A Haircut, Do One's Work; Get On With The Business Of One's Life. That's The Hope, Anyway.

I Have Managed To Establish An Identity That Is Based On My Internal Self, And For That I Feel Tremendously Lucky.

New York Is Breaking My Heart. I’ve Often Said That It’s Like Having A Really Interesting Boyfriend Suddenly Becoming Really, Really Into Wine, And Having To Have Endless Conversations About It.