I'm Never A Fan Of The Sociopathic

I Always Had A Hard Time With Fiction. It Does Feel Like Driving A Car In A Clown Suit. You're Going Somewhere, But You're In Costume, And You're Not Really Fooling Anybody. You're The Guy In Costume, And Everybody's Supposed To Forget That And Go Along With You. Obviously, It Can Work, It Works All The Time - Well, It Doesn't Always Work. Still, No Matter What, I'm Always Looking At The Form And Addressing It, Not Ignoring It.

It Was Always Difficult To Get Cattle Returned Once A Marriage Was Dissolved.

The Key Thing Is, Even If You Only Have A Couple Of Hours A Month, Those Two Hours Shoulder-to-shoulder, Next To One Student, Concentrated Attention, Shining This Beam Of Light On Their Work, On Their Thoughts And Their Self-expression, Is Going To Be Absolutely Transformative, Because So Many Of The Students Have Not Had That Ever Before.

My Mind, I Know, I Can Prove, Hovers On Hummingbird Wings. It Hovers And It Churns. And When It's Operating At Full Thrust, The Churning Does Not Stop. The Machines Do Not Rest, The Systems Rarely Cool. And While I Can Forget Anything Of Any Importance--this Is Why People Tell Me Secrets--my Mind Has An Uncanny Knack For Organization When It Comes To Pain. Nothing Tormenting Is Ever Lost, Never Even Diminished In Color Or Intensity Or Quality Of Sound.

At That Moment I Was Sure. That I Belonged In My Skin. That My Organs Were Mine And My Eyes Were Mine And My Ears, Which Could Only Hear The Silence Of This Night And My Faint Breathing, Were Mine, And I Loved Them And What They Could Do.