I Write On Weekends, On

I Prefer To Record All Traumas And Save Them For Later, Playing Them Over And Over So They Can Haunt Me For A Disproportionate Number Of Weeks To Come. It's Very Healthy.

We've Come To Expect So Little From Online Privacy Measures That Public Displays Of Concern About The Matter Are More Or Less For Show. Being Devastated To Discover You've Been Tagged In Somebody Else's Photo Has An Air Of The Melodramatic About It At This Point.

Okay, This Is Fran Lebowitz. She Gave An Interview Once For The Paris Review About Trying To Write Fiction And Saying That Fiction Writers Start Talking About How Characters Are Talking To Them, And It's Crazy, She's Never Had That. And I Also Thought, I'm Never Gonna Be Able To Do This, Because I Didn't Feel That For A Really Long Time.

The Children Were Overwhelmingly Morbid. Not A Single Adult Asked Me Where Butterflies Go When They Die, But This Question Was More Popular Than Pixie Sticks With The Under-four-foot Set. I Cursed Parents For Not Preparing Their Children. When I Was Five, My Mother And Sister Sat Me Up On The Kitchen Counter And Explained The Facts Of Life: The Easter Bunny Didn't Exist, Elijah Was God's Invisible Friend, With Any Luck Nana Would Die Soon, And If I Ever Saw A Unicorn, I Should Kill It Or Catch It For Cash. I Turned Out Okay.

I Can't See The Forest Through The Trees, Except The Trees Are People.