The True Life Is Not

The Term Itself--my Life--is A Desperate Overstatement.

Stories Have No Point If They Don't Absorb Our Terror.

The Future Belongs To Crowds.

Everyone Who Does Not Live In Berlin Lives In Brooklyn Now.

The Cheesecake Was Smooth And Lush, With The Personality Of A Warm And Well-to-do Uncle Who Knows A Hundred Dirty Jokes And Will Die Of Sexual Exertions In The Arms Of His Mistress.