My Dad Had A Lot Of Bad

The California I Knew, Old Rancho California, Is Gone. It Just Doesn't Exist, Except Maybe In Little Pockets. I Lived On The Edge Of The Mojave Desert, An Area That Used To Be Farm Country. There Were All These Fresh-produce Stands With Avocados And Date Palms. You Could Get A Dozen Artichokes For A Buck Or Something. Totally Wiped Out Now.

This Isn't Champagne Anymore. We Went Through The Champagne A Long Time Ago. This Is Serious Stuff. The Days Of Champagne Are Long Gone.

Sides Are Being Divided Now. It's Very Obvious. So If You're On The Other Side Of The Fence, You're Suddenly Anti-american. It's Breeding Fear Of Being On The Wrong Side.

I've Heard Writers Talk About "discovering A Voice," But For Me That Wasn't A Problem. There Were So Many Voices That I Didn't Know Where To Start.

I Hate Endings. Just Detest Them. Beginnings Are Definitely The Most Exciting, Middles Are Perplexing And Endings Are A Disaster. … The Temptation Towards Resolution, Towards Wrapping Up The Package, Seems To Me A Terrible Trap. Why Not Be More Honest With The Moment? The Most Authentic Endings Are The Ones Which Are Already Revolving Towards Another Beginning. That’s Genius.