I Want Fake Love. But That's All

The Only People Who Can Ever Put Ideas Into Context Are People Who Don't Care; The Unbiased And Apathetic Are Usually The Wisest Dudes In The Room. If You Want To Totally Misunderstand Why Something Is Supposedly Important, Find The Biggest Fan Of That Particular Thing And Ask Him For An Explanation. He Will Tell You Everything That Doesn't Matter To Anyone Who Isn't Him. He Will Describe Paradoxical Details And Share Deeply Personal Anecdotes, And It Will All Be Autobiography; He Will Simply Be Explaining Who He Is By Discussing Something Completely Unrelated To His Life.

What's Hard To Do Is Describe Why You Like Something. Because Ultimately, The Reason Things Move People Is Very Amorphous. You Can Be Cerebral About Things You Hate, But Most Of The Things You Like Tend To Be Very Emotive. It's Really Hard To Do A Literary Reproduction Of What Makes You Happy. That's What I Try To Do. If Nothing Else, It Seems Like There's Enough People Out There Telling The World What Isn't Cool, Or What's Terrible, Or What's Depressing. I Think There's An Element Of Cynicism In My Writing, But I'm An Optimistic Cynic.

When I'm Walking Around, I'm Usually Drinking Pop, So I Can't Have A Mask On. That's Why I Couldn't Be A Surgeon.

I Write Pretty Fast, Probably Faster Than Most People. But I Might Think About Something For Six Hours, Then Write It In 20 Minutes. So Did I Write For Six Hours And 20 Minutes, Or Just 20 Minutes? I Used To Write Absolutely Every Day, Except For Days When I Had To Travel Or Something.

I'm Good At Being By Myself. I Guess If You're A Writer You Get Used To That.