It's So Easy To Print In The

It Is No Way To Live, To Wait To Love.

I Think Almost Every Writer In The World Would Hope That Books Would Be Always Talked About With Respect And Civility And Depth And Seriousness.

For Years I Feared The Opening Of Every Elevator, Half-convinced That From The Opened Doors Would Come A Bullet, For Me, Shot By A Man In A Tan Trenchcoat. I Have No Idea Why I Feared This, Expected It To Happen. I Even Knew How I Would React To This Bullet Coming From The Elevator Door, What Word I Would Say. That Word Was: Finally.

Nothing Again. No One Is Listening. No One Is Waiting To Hear The Kicking Of A Man Above. It Is Unexpected. You Have No Ears For Someone Like Me.

I Worked At Salon.com Way Back When They Started, And There's Just Unmeasurable Value To Distributing Words Online, Too, But I Still Get My News From The Newspaper In The Morning.