I guess when I'm frightened or in pain or maybe very bored I've tried to hold myself together by imposing a narrative order on the experience as it happens.

Anyway I read more contemporary poetry than contemporary fiction so my mind goes first to a kind of crass "conceptualism" that repeats vanguard gestures of the past minus the politics and historical context.

Every relationship can feel saturated by market logic or at best purchased at the price of the immiseration of others.

Just in case God isn't dead, our astronauts carry sidearms.

I like to think - knowing that it's an enabling fiction - of those moments as fragments from a world to come, a world where price isn't the only measure of value.

I didn't want to write another book about fraudulence.

I've been building a fiction in part around the Marfa poem since my brief residency there, which has kept it from receding into the past.