I’d Always Been Afraid Of Sick People,

Hugh Returned From His Trip, And Days Later I Still Sounded Like A Red Chinese Asking Questions About The Democratic Hinterlands. "and You Actually Saw People Smoking In Restaurants? Really! And Offices, Too? Oh, Tell Me Again About The Ashtrays In The Hospital Waiting Room, And Don't Leave Anything Out."

I’d Always Been Afraid Of Sick People, And So Had My Mother. It Wasn’t That We Feared Catching Their Brain Aneurysm Or Accidentally Ripping Out Their Iv. I Think It Was Their Fortitude That Frightened Us. Sick People Reminded Us Not Of What We Had, But Of What We Lacked. Everything We Said Sounded Petty And Insignificant; Our Complaints Paled In The Face Of Theirs, And Without Our Complaints, There Was Nothing To Say.

I Always Say To Young People, "get The Hell Out Of The United States." Especially If You're Young, Like If You're 21 Or Something. Let's Say You Don't Speak Any Italian. You're 21. Everyone's Going To Want To Sleep With You And Be Nice To You. And The Best Way To Learn A Language Is To Sleep With Someone From That Country.

During Episodes Of Unemployment I Find It Rewarding To Sleep As Much As Possible-anything From Twelve To Fourteen Hours A Day Is A Good Starting Point. Sleep Spares You Humiliation And Saves Money At The Same Time: Nothing To Eat, Nothing To Buy, Just Lie Back And Dream Your Life Away.

It's Funny How Certain Objects Convey A Message - My Washer And Dryer, For Example. They Can't Speak, Of Course, But Whenever I Pass Them They Remind Me That I'm Doing Fairly Well. "no More Laundromat For You," They Hum. My Stove, A Downer, Tells Me Every Day That I Can't Cook, And Before I Can Defend Myself My Scale Jumps In, Shouting From The Bathroom, "well, He Must Be Doing _something - _my Numbers Is Off The Charts." The Skeleton Has A Much More Limited Vocabulary, And Says Only One Thing: "you Are Going To Die."