It Is Not My Fault

But It Was Only Hot Outside, And Generally I Only Walked Outside Between One Air-conditioned Place To Another.

I'm A Bad Boyfriend. She's A Bad Girlfriend. We Deserve Each Other.

They Couldn't Bear The Idea Of Death Being A Big Black Nothing.

Here's My Answer To The Very Real Existential Crisis That Grips Me Midway Through Everything I've Ever Tried To Do: I Think Stories Help Us Fight The Nihilistic Urges That Constantly Threaten To Consume Us.

I Think People Who Are Religious Are More Likely To Want One Around, But It's A Very Secular Position.