Compassion Doesn't Have To Be Weak Or

A Work Of Art Is Something Produced By A Person, But Is Not That Person — It Is Of Her, But Is Not Her. It’s A Reach, Really — The Artist Is Trying To Inhabit, Temporarily, A More Compact, Distilled, Efficient, Wittier, More True-seeing, Precise Version Of Herself — One That She Can’t Replicate In So-called ‘real’ Life, No Matter How Hard She Tries. That’s Why She Writes: To Try And Briefly Be More Than She Truly Is.

As A Young Kid I Assumed That Everybody Was Sort Of On The Same Wavelength As I Was And Then I Found Out In A Lot Of Small Ways That That Wasn't The Case. It's Sort Of A Mixed Blessing. My Mind Is Like A Puppy. It Goes All Over. I Guess Writing Fiction Was A Way Of Harnessing That. I Could Hook A Puppy Up To A Treadmill And Get Something Out Of It.

Goodbye. I Am Leaving Because I Am Bored.

I Watched A Documentary About The Immigrant Crisis Around The World. And It Does Make Me Blush At All The Times I've Stood Up On The Stage And Given Your Speech About The Healing Power Of Fiction.

I Don't Think Much New Ever Happens. Most Of Us Spend Our Days The Same Way People Spent Their Days In The Year 1000: Walking Around Smiling, Trying To Earn Enough To Eat, While Neurotically Doing These Little Self-proofs In Our Head About How Much Better We Are Than These Other Slobs, While Simultaneously, In Another Part Of Our Brain, Secretly Feeling Woefully Inadequate To These Smarter, More Beautiful People.