Stay. Fight. Live. Take It. Cry. Cry.

When I Go To An Art Gallery And Stand In Front Of A Painting, I Don't Want Someone Telling Me What I Should Be Seeing Or Thinking; I Want To Feel Whatever I Feel, See Whatever I See, And Figure Out What I Figure Out.

We Stare Into Each Other's Eyes And Softly Kiss Speaking And Saying More With The Movement Of Our Lips And The Tips Of Our Fingers Than Words Will Allow Us To Say. Words Can't Say This. The One Word Love Means Too Little For What It Is. It Means Everything And That Is Still Not Enough. It Doesn't Communicate Even A Fraction Of The Feelings Involved. Love. The Word Is Not Enough For What It Is. Love. Love.

The Los Angeles Air Pollution Control Board Is Established In 1946 In An Effort To Discover The Cause Of The Brown Cloud Hanging Over The City And Decide How To Combat And Disperse It. In 1949, After Intense Lobbying From Both The Automobile And Oil Industries, And Against The Recommendations And Position Of The Los Angeles Air Pollution Control Board, The Public Rail System, Which At One Time Was The Largest In The World, And Still Serves A Majority Of The City's Population, Is Decommissioned And Torn Out. It Is Replaced By A Small Fleet Of Buses.

I Will Not Allow People To Impose Rules On Me That Don't Make Sense To Me. And I Live And Work Very Much Outside The Literary World And The Literary System. What They Think And What They Believe And What Their Rules Are Mean Nothing To Me.

I'm A Writer. I Never Expected To Be Recognised On The Street. I Never Expected To Get That Kind Of Coverage, Good Or Bad. I Never Expected To Sell As Many Books As I Have.