I'm On The Verge Of A Total

People Don't Expect Too Much From Literature. They Just Want To Know They're Not Alone With Being Confused.

I Promote My Own Self-hatred.

No One I Interact With - Except Maybe For Family And Strangers At The Russian Baths And Other Weird Places I May Go To - Is Just Friends Or Lovers With Me: They Also Know Something Of My Writing And This Distorts Their Take On Me.

I'm On The Verge Of A Total Breakdown. Sciatica. Taxes. Cars. Fleas, Possibly. It's An Absurd Existence.

I Don't Like Rides. I Take Everything In Life Quite Literally, And So I Genuinely Feel Terrified On Rides And Liable To Vomit At Any Moment, And I Hate To Vomit Even More Than I Fear Rides. So, All This To Say, I Don't Have A Favorite Ride. I Don't Go On Rides. Well, That's Not True. A Few Years Ago I Had A Beautiful, Romantic Moment On The Ferris Wheel At Coney Island, Known As The Wonder Wheel, And So I Guess That's My Favorite Ride, Though Even That, To Be Frank, Terrified Me.