He's Not My Step Brother

Prayer Or Not, I Want To Believe That, Despite All Evidence To The Contrary, It Is Possible For Anyone To Find That One Special Person. That Person To Spend Christmas With Or Grow Old With Or Just To Take A Nice Silly Walk In Central Park With. Somebody Who Wouldn't Judge Another For The Prepositions They Dangle, Or Their Run-on Sentences, And Who In Turn Wouldn't Be Judged For The Snobbery Of Their Language Etymology Inclinations.

So Much Is Happening And Yet Nothing At All.

Wow. I Feel Like In This Riot Of People, I Have Been Kicked In The Stomach, But By The Giddy Police. Forget About The Need For Oxygen. My Mouth Wants To Go Back To The Place It Just Left.

The Only Use She Has For The Word Fun Is To Make The Word Funeral.

I Feel Like There's So Much Darkness In All Of My Books.