In the same way that a tornado rips the roof off a double-wide trailer, leaving the occupants dazed and staring at the clouds from the splinters of what used to be their living room, it was over.

Just as I had long suspected, a person didn't really need math for anything anyway. Maybe some people did. Some limited people.

I think people tend to see the bigger point, which is maybe not fitting in and feeling like you didn't have the childhood that you expected you would have, or that you felt lonely or struggled with drugs and alcohol or just that you were able to achieve your dreams.

My subconscious does the writing; I don't have control over that.

My attraction had been immediate and profound. And it had nothing to do with the way he looked. My attraction was to what resided between his lines.

I really look at my childhood as being one giant rusty tuna can that I continue to recycle in many different shapes.

There's not enough of me left over.