I Moved To New York With The

It Is A Special Kind Of Homelessness To Be Evicted From Your Dreams.

I Came To Hate The Complainers, With Their Dry And Crumbly Lipsticks And Their Wrinkled Rage And Their Stupid, Flaccid, Old-people Sun Hats With Brims The Breadth Of Saturn's Rings.

In Short Stories There's More Permission To Be Elliptical. You Can Have Image-logic, Or It's Almost Like A Poem In That You Can Come To A Lot Of Meanings Within A Short Space.

Given The Brevity Of Our Time Here, It Does Seem Likely That Our Species, Too, Must Have At Best A Blinkered Understanding Of The Shape Of Things, The Import Of Certain Events And What Distinguishes "good" From "bad" Luck.

My Favorite Classes Were Always Dumb Nerdy Vocabulary.