I Do Have A Sense Of Displacement

I Do Have A Sense Of Displacement As Constant Instability — The Uninterrupted Existence Of Everything That I Love And Care About Is Not Guaranteed At All. I Wait For Catastrophes.

The Balls Do Not Make A Writer.

I Cannot Stand That Whole Game Of Confession, That Is: Here I Have Sinned, Now I'm Confessing My Sins, And Describing My Path Of Sin And Then In The Act Of Confession I Beg For Your Forgiveness And Redemption.

I Want To Make Money, And I Would Like To Have A Lot Of Money, But I Still Believe That The Only Reason To Write Is That Somehow It Will Make Something Or Somebody Better.

I Cannot Live Or Write Without Music. It Stimulates The Normally Dormant Parts Of My Brain That Come In Handy When Constructing Fiction.