Our disappointment sits between us.

The writer has no responsibility other than to jack off in bed alone and write a good page.

she’s mad, but she’s magic.

they say that nothing is wasted: either that or it al is

I went over to see Marina two or three or four times a week. I knew as long as I could see the girl I would be all right…. Soon after, I got a letter from Fay. She and the child were living in a hippie commune in New Mexico. It was a nice place, she said. Marina would be able to breathe there. She enclosed a little drawing the girl had made for me.

Basically, that's why I wrote: to save my ass, to save my ass from the madhouse, from the streets, from myself.

A spark can set a whole forest on fire. Just a spark. Save it.