The Dog’s Agenda Is Simple, Fathomable, Overt:

My Recipe For Bliss On A Friday Night Consists Of A 'new York Times' Crossword Puzzle And A New Episode Of 'homicide;' Saturdays And Sundays Are Oriented Around Walks In The Woods With The Dog, Human Companion In Tow Some Of The Time But Not Always.

The Freedom To Choose...means The Freedom To Make Mistakes, To Falter And Fail, To Come Face-to-face With Your Own Flaws And Limitations And Fears And Secrets, To Live With The Terrible Uncertainty That Necessarily Attends The Construction Of A Self.

Around The Time I Began Starving, In The Early Eighties, The Visual Image Had Begun To Supplant Text As Culture's Primary Mode Of Communication, A Radical Change Because Images Work So Differently Than Words: They're Immediate, They Hit You At Levels Way Beneath Intellect, They Come Fast And Furious.

On The Broad Spectrum Of Solitude, I Lean Toward The Extreme End: I Work Alone, As Well As Live Alone, So I Can Pass An Entire Day Without Uttering So Much As A Hello To Another Human Being. Sometimes A Day's Conversation Consists Of Only Five Words, Uttered At The Local Starbucks: 'large Coffee With Milk, Please.

The Hard Things In Life, The Things You Really Learn From, Happen With A Clear Mind.