You Could Drown A Kitten In Her

Alcohol Causes A Lot Of Problems, And Then To Solve These Problems, You Drink More.

Then I Celebrated My Wall Of Books. I Counted The Volumes On My Twenty-foot-long Modernist Bookshelf To Make Sure None Had Been Misplaced Or Used As Kindling By My Subtenant. “you’re My Sacred Ones,” I Told The Books. “no One But Me Still Cares About You. But I’m Going To Keep You With Me Forever. And One Day I’ll Make You Important Again.” I Thought About That Terrible Calumny Of The New Generation: That Books Smell.

American Fiction Is Good. It Would Be Nice If Somebody Read It.

The Only Way To Write About Right Now Is To Write About The Future.

My Mother Cranes Her Neck. Her Ability To Be Fascinated By Things Is Her Best Gift To Me.