Writing Is Like Going To

I'm Too Careless. I Don't Put Out Enough Effort. I'm Tired.

I Just Want A Hot Cup Of Coffee,black,and I Don’t Want To Hear About Your Troubles.

You've Got To Burn Straight Up And Down And Then Maybe Sidewise For A While And Have Your Guts Scrambled By A Bully And The Demonic Ladies, You've Got To Run Along The Edge Of Madness Teetering, You've Got To Starve Like A Winter Alleycat, You've Go To Live With The Imbecility Of At Least A Dozen Cities, Then Maybe Maybe Maybe You Might Know Where You Are For A Tiny Blinking Moment.

I Dunno," I Said, "but I Have An Idea That People Who Don't Think Too Much Tend To Look Younger Longer

News Travels Fast In Places Where Nothing Much Ever Happens.