Here's my unsolicited advice to any aspiring screenwriters who might be reading this: Don’t ever agonize about the hordes of other writers who are ostensibly your competition. No one else is capable of doing what you do.

I know white clothing is supposed to enhance that summer glow, but writers don't tan.

For me, stripping was an unusual kind of escape. I had nothing to escape but privilege, but I claimed asylum anyway. At twenty-four, it was my last chance to reject something and become nothing. I wanted to terrify myself. Mission accomplished.

I've been told that I'm incompetent, socially retarded, maladjusted. I still know that I couldn't function in reality. Los Angeles is a good place for me.

I always wanted to strip. I'm sort of one of those people who would walk past a strip club and while everybody else might give it a passing glance or cracks a joke, I'd be like pressing my face up against the window trying to see in. I was very curious always.

Gas Attendant: "Thata ain't no etch-a-sketch. Thats one doodle that can't be un-did home skillet.

I myself identify as a recovering Blockhead. You'd be surprised how many twenty- and thirty-something hipster chicks have the NKOTB skeleton in their closet, albeit artfully concealed by stacks of Ksubi skinny jeans and ironic Judas Priest T-shirts.