Greed Is Good. Sex Is Easy. Youth

The Images I Had Were Of People Being Driven Mad By Living In The City. Images Of Parents Who Were So Hungry And Unfulfilled That They Ate Their Own Children.

She Laughs And Looks Out The Window And I Think For A Minute That She's Going To Start To Cry. I'm Standing By The Door And I Look Over At The Elvis Costello Poster, At His Eyes, Watching Her, Watching Us, And I Try To Get Her Away From It, So I Tell Her To Come Over Here, Sit Down, And She Thinks I Want To Hug Her Or Something And She Comes Over To Me And Puts Her Arms Around My Back And Says Something Like 'i Think We've All Lost Some Sort Of Feeling.

You Do Not Write A Novel For Praise, Or Thinking Of Your Audience. You Write For Yourself; You Work Out Between You And Your Pen The Things That Intrigue You

What Does That Mean Know Me, Know Me, Nobody Ever Knows Anybody Else, Ever! You Will Never Know Me.

I Tried To Make Meat Loaf Out Of The Girl But It Becomes Too Frustrating A Task And Instead I Spend The Afternoon Smearing Her Meat All Over The Walls, Chewing On Strips Of Skin I Ripped From Her Body