It Seems To Me Now That The

The Secret To Editing Your Work Is Simple: You Need To Become Its Reader Instead Of Its Writer.

The Roots Of Rap Are Originally Ghetto-ised Or Extremely Working Class. So When You're An Artist Who's Making Something Which Isn't How Its Mainstream Appearance Should Be, There's Always These Strange Questions Of Authenticity And What You Have To Do To Be 'real' As A Rapper.

Cambridge Was A Joy. Tediously. People Reading Books In A Posh Place. It Was My Fantasy. I Loved It. I Miss It Still.

Then You Begin To Give Up The Very Idea Of Belonging. Suddenly This Thing, This Belonging,it Seems Like Some Long, Dirty Lie ... And I Begin To Believe That Birthplaces Are Accidents, That Everything Is An Accident. But If You Believe That, Where Do You Go? What Do You Do? What Does Anything Matter?

Boys Are Just Boys After All, But Sometimes Girls Really Seem To Be The Turn Of A Pale Wrist, Or The Sudden Jut Of A Hip, Or A Clutch Of Very Dark Hair Falling Across A Freckled Forehead. I'm Not Saying That's What They Really Are. I'm Just Saying Sometimes It Seems That Way, And That Those Details (a Thigh Mole, A Full Face Flush, A Scar The Precise Shape And Size Of A Cashew Nut) Are So Many Hooks Waiting To Land You.