I Use My Fiction To Explore My

It's Their Skins I'm Peeling," She Said. "the Skins Of The Insipid Scribblers, Which I Graft To The Page, Creating Monsters Of Meaninglessness.

The Best You'll Ever Do Is To Understand Yourself, Know What It Is That You Want, And Not Let The Cattle Stand In Your Way.

We Don't Have A Unitary Society Anymore, You Know; It's Very Fragmented. I Look Up And Down My Block In Silverlake And There Is A Different Universe In Every House.

We Parked In Back And Walked Down The Stairs With Their Polished Brass Railings, Past The Old-fashioned Kitchen. We Could See The Chefs Cooking. It Smelled Like Stew, Or Meat Loaf, The Way Time Should Smell, Solid And Nourishing.

You Paid For Every Second Of Beauty You Managed To Steal.