Birthdays Are Ghost Bounty Hunters

I Wonder, When A Writer's Blocked And Doesn't Have Any Resources To Pull Himself Out Of It, Why Doesn't He Jump In His Car And Drive Around The U.s.a.? I Went Last Winter For Seven Thousand Miles And It Was Lovely. Inexpensive, Too.

I Remember My Grandfather Telling Me How Each Of Us Must Live With A Full Measure Of Loneliness That Is Inescapable, And We Must Not Destroy Ourselves With Our Passion To Escape The Aloneness.

Dad Said I Would Always Be "high Minded And Low Waged" From Reading Too Much Ralph Waldo Emerson. Maybe He Was Right.

I Used To Get Criticized For Putting Food In Novels.

The World That Used To Nurse Us Now Keeps Shouting Inane Instructions. That's Why I Ran To The Woods.