I Love Thinking About American History, Thinking

Periodically I Just Notch Up. And Everyone Among My Colleagues Thinks That Perfidia - In Its Accessibility, Its Big Throbbing Heart - Will Be The Biggest Notch Up Yet. We'll See What Happens. It's On My Ass.

She Quoted A Dead Playwright And Called Me A Bullet With Nothing But A Future. She Understood My Lack Of Self-pity. She Knew Why I Despised Everything That Might Restrict My Forward Momentum. She Knew That Bullets Have No Conscience. They Speed Past Things And Miss Their Marks As Often As They Hit Them.

You Try To Learn Who You Are. You Work Hard. You've Either Got It Or You Don't When It Comes To Writing Books. And You Tend To Only Get These Things If You Want Them, And Want Them To The Exclusion Of Everything Else.

Our Shared World Is Humanly Unquantifiable And Ideologically Confused. Which One Of Them Is Capable Of Implementing The Most Recognizable Harm Or Good?

I Don't Think I Came Out Of Anybody. I Think I Developed Out Of The Influences I Described In My Dark Places. American History, L.a. Of The 1950s. I'm Comfortable With That.