Specificity Is The Soul Of Narrative.

This Is Not To Say There Are Not Chicagoans. But I Would Suggest That They Are A Nomadic People, Whose Lost Home Exists Only In Their Minds, And In The Glowing Crystal Memory Cells They All Carry In The Palms Of Their Hands: A Great Idea Of A Second City, Lit With Life And Love, Reasonable Drink Prices At Cool Bars, And, Of Course, Blocks And Blocks Of Bright And Devastating Fire.

I'm A Personality - Like A George Plimpton Who Effectively Plays Himself In A Bunch Of Different Roles, Or A Paul Lynde-type Character.

My Type Of Humor Is Me Not Caring Whether People Know What I'm Talking About Or Not.

There Is No Metaphor For Death. All Comparisons Are Odious, But I'll Do One Anyway. We All Have These Moments Of Harsh Clarity Where We Realize That Something Is Gone, Whether That Is Youth, Whether That Is Someone We Care About, Whether That Is Where We Literally Lose Someone We Care About To Death. Or We End A Relationship That We Thought Would Last Forever, Or Have One Ended For Us. We All Have These Moments In Life Where It Seems Impossible To Fill Up The Time That We Have Left For Us, And Yet We Have To Do It Somehow.

What I Collect? Interesting Jobs. Always To My Thrill And Excitement, But Ultimately To My Exhaustion, I Collect Interesting Jobs. If An Interesting Job Comes Along, I Take It; That's Why I Do So Many Things. I'm Lucky To Be Able To.