The Job Of The Writer Is To

I'm Only Telling You On The Truth," He Said. "if You Can't Stand The Truth, Don't Ask For It.

No Shame In Saying That I Felt A Loneliness Drifting Through Me. Funny How It Was, Everyone Perched In Their Own Little World With The Deep Need To Talk, Each Person With Their Own Tale, Beginning In Some Strange Middle Point, Then Trying So Hard To Tell It All, To Have It All Make Sense, Logical And Final.

They Told Me Corrigan Smashed All The Bones In His Chest When He Hit The Steering Wheel. I Thought, Well At Least In Heaven His Spanish Chick'll Be Able To Reach In And Grab His Heart.

It Struck Me That Distant Cities Are Designed Precisely So You Can Know Where You Came From.

If They Ask You To Stand Still, You Should Dance.