You Just Walk Over There And Into

Next Thing You Know She'll Be On The Bus And Selling T-shirts In The Parking Lot, Showing Off Her Boobs To Get In The Stage Door." "at Least She Has Boobs To Show," Jess Said. "i Have Boobs," Chloe Said, Pointing To Her Chest. "just Because They're Not Weighing Me Down Doesn't Mean They're Not Substantial." "okay, B Cup," Jess Said, Taking A Sip Of Her Drink. "i Have Boobs!" Chloe Said Again, A Bit Too Loudly--she'd Already Had A Couple Of Minibottles At The Spot. "my Boobs Are Great, Goddammit. You Know That? They're Fantastic! My Boobs Are Amazing.

You Know, When You Think About It, That’s Kind Of A Weird Thing. I Mean It’s Meant To Be Sympathetic, Right? But It’s Kind Of Not. Like You’re Telling The Person There’s Nothing Unique About What They’re Saying I Considered This As A Couple Of Kids On Rollerblades Whizzed Past, Hockey Sticks Over Their Shoulders. “yeah,” I Said, Finally, “but You Could Also Look At It The Other Way. Like No Matter How Bad Things Are For You, I Can Still Relate.

But All The Love In The World Won't Save A Sinking Ship. You Have To Either Bail Or Jump Overboard.

Usually When I Finish The Draft Of A Book, I'm Sure I'll Never Write Another One. I'm Just That Tired And Sick Of Myself. But Then Another Idea Starts Percolating. It Usually Begins With The Narrator's Name, Then Some Idea That Intrigues Me About Her Life Or Situation. I Try To Ignore It As Long As I Can, Because I Know When I Start Writing, I'll Be Right Back Into It, Every Single Day. But Eventually, I Just Have To. It's A Compulsion!

I Remembered Owen Telling Me How Music Had Saved Him In Phoenix, That It Drowned Everything Out, And It Was The Same For Me Now. As Long As I Had Something To Listen To, I Could Blur The Things I Didn't Want To Think About, If Not Block Them Out Completely.