Stories Are Like Assholes. Everybody's

This Church Was Open And Seemingly Unattended, And It Was A Throwback In Another Way As Well. The Candles In The Little Side Altars Were Real Ones, Actual Wax Candles That Burned With An Open Flame. Lots Of Churches Have Switched Over To Electrified Altars. You Drop Your Quarter In The Slot And A Flame-shaped Bulb Goes On And Stays On For Your Quarter's Worth Of Time. It's Like A Parking Meter, And If You Stay Too Long They Tow Away Your Soul.

Asking Me Why I Did Or Didn't Do Anything Is Generally Pointless. How Do I Know? And Asking Me What I'll Do In The Future Is Even Less Rewarding.

I Wouldn't Presume To Define Noir - If We Could Define It, We Wouldn't Need To Use A French Word For It - But It Seems To Me It's More A Way Of Looking At The World Than What One Sees.

I’ve Tried Writing And The Sentences Come Out Fine, But I Write A Few Pages And I Don’t Want To Go On.

Stories Are Like Assholes. Everybody's Got One And Most Of 'em Stink.