I've given guys blow jobs just because I've run out of things to talk about.' Oh, Rae. Who hasn't

Everyone is flailing through this life without an owner's manual, with whatever modicum of grace and good humor we can manage.

Some people may have thought that this book was too personal, too confessional. But what these people think about me is none of my business.

Getting into a new relationship is like pouring Miracle-Gro on your character defects.

What an incredible drug fear is.

Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground - you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it's going to get. Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation, while writing needs to breathe and move.

You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. ... You put a piece of paper in the typewriter, or you turn on your computer and bring up the right file. ... You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. ... Then your mental illnesses arrive at the desk like your sickest, most secretive relatives. And they pull up chairs in a semicircle around the computer, and they try to be quiet but you know they are there with their weird coppery breath, leering at you behind your back.