That's What Books Are For... To Travel

A Writer Has To True To Him Or Herself. Period. That’s It!

It Didn't Matter That I Wore Clothes From Sears; I Was Still Different. I Looked Different. My Name Was Different. I Wanted To Pull Away From The Things That Marked My Parents As Being Different.

I Don't Know Why, But The Older I Get The More Interested I Get In My Parents' Marriage. And It's Interesting To Be Married Yourself, Too, Because There Is An Inevitable Comparison.

I've Never Had Internet Access. Actually, I Have Looked At Things On Other People's Computers As A Bystander. A Few Times In My Life I've Opened Email Accounts, Twice Actually, But It's Something I Don't Want In My Life Right Now.

Amid The Gray, An Incongruous Band Of Daytime Blue Asserts Itself. To The West, A Pink Sun Already Begins Its Descent. The Effect Is Of Three Isolated Aspects, Distinct Phases Of The Day. All Of It, Strewn Across The Horizon, Is Contained In His Vision.