I Can't Bear The Silent Ringing In

Writing Is Physical For Me. I Always Have The Sense That The Words Are Coming Out Of My Body, Not Just My Mind.

Music Still Sort Of Hangs Up There In The Sky For Me As This Thing That Moves Me So Much, But I Can't Really Make It. It's Like A Car I Can't Drive.

I've Just Finished Reading Reality Hunger And I'm Lit Up By It-astonished, Intoxicated, Ecstatic, Overwhelmed. . . . It Really Is An Urgent Book: A Piece Of Art-making Itself, A Sublime, Exciting, Outrageous, Visionary Volume.

Tourette's Is Just One Big Lifetime Of Tag, Really. The World (or My Brain---same Thing) Appoints Me It, Again And Again. So I Tag Back. Can It Do Otherwise? If You've Ever Been It You Know The Answer.

What Age Is A Black Boy When He Learns He's Scary?