But, Like Ivy, We Grow

I'm Always The Kind Of Friend Or Girlfriend Who Suggests, When There's Some Cataclysmic Problem In The Relationship, I'm Like, "well, Maybe We Can Come Up With A Creative Activity That Will Help Us Out." I'm Like, "let's Get Out The Pens! Draw A Picture Of How Much You Hate Me!"

I Can't Imagine Being Invested In Someone Else's Script.

Are You Angry? Punch A Pillow. Was It Satisfying? Not Hardly. These Days People Are Too Angry For Punching. What You Might Try Is Stabbing. Take An Old Pillow And Lay It On The Front Lawn. Stab It With A Big Pointy Knife. Again And Again And Again. Stab Hard Enough For The Point Of The Knife To Go Into The Ground. Stab Until The Pillow Is Gone And You Are Just Stabbing The Earth Again And Again, As If You Want To Kill It For Continuing To Spin, As If You Are Getting Revenge For Having To Live On This Planet Day After Day, Alone.

I Suppose The Daily Disciplines Are Just A Reflection Of The Qualities Of My Inner World - A Mixture Of Paralysis And Terror And A Lighter, Freer, Kind Of Rebellious Woman. So Those Are Just Constantly Pushing Against Each Other, And That's Played Out In Every Area Of My Life.

We Really Wanted To Know All The Unknowable Things About Each Other And How We Were The Same And How We Were Different, If We Even Were, Maybe Nobody Is.