Weird Doors Open. People Fall

Whenever I Write About My Family, I Start By Getting My Parent`s Approval. I Like To Think I Write About Them With Obvious Affection. When It Comes To The People I'm Related To, I Consider Myself To Be Very Lucky.

My Sister Tiffany Told Me Years Ago, 'you Can Never Write About Me.' Then She Called Six Months Ago And Said She Wanted To Be In A Story. She Was Worried People Thought I Didn't Like Her.

Kools And Newports Were For Black People And Lower-class Whites. Camels Were For Procrastinators, Those Who Wrote Bad Poetry, And Those Who Put Off Writing Bad Poetry. Merits Were For Sex Addicts, Salems Were For Alcoholics, And Mores Were For People Who Considered Themselves To Be Outrageous But Really Weren't.

In Order To Get The Things I Want, It Helps Me To Pretend I’m A Figure In A Daytime Drama, A Schemer. Soap Opera Characters Make Emphatic Pronouncements. They Ball Up Their Fists And State Their Goals Out Loud. ‘i Will Destroy Buchanan Enterprises,’ They Say. ‘phoebe Wallingford Will Pay For What She’s Done To Our Family.’ Walking Home With The Back Half Of The Twelve-foot Ladder, I Turned To Look In The Direction Of Hugh’s Loft. ‘you Will Be Mine,’ I Commanded.

It Makes Me Wonder Sometimes. Remember A Couple Years Ago, When Mexicans Went On Strike? It Was Talked About A Little Bit But Not That Much. But Some Old White People, And There Aren't Even That Many, They Put Bonnets On, And Then They Control The News.