I'm not a reporter but the 'New Yorker' treats everyone like a reporter.

What I really hated, of course, was my mind. There must have been an off switch somewhere, but I was damned if I could find it.

I started writing when I was twenty, and my first book came out seventeen years later.

A week after my drugs ran out, I left my bed to perform at the college, deciding at the last minute to skip both the doughnut toss and the march of the headless plush toys. Instead, I just heated up a skillet of plastic soldiers, poured a milkshake over my head and called it a night.

But I don't distinguish between being laughed with, and laughed at. I'll take either.

In my dream world gay people in America would get the right to marry, and not a one of them would use that right.

The Korean man nodded, the way you do when you’re a foreigner and understand that someone has finished a sentence.