Also, I've spent an entire week without reading any books or talking about them too loudly. I'm learning to work my apparat's screen, the colourful pulsating mosaic of it, the fact that it knows every last stinking detail about the world, whereas my books only know the minds of their authors.

One of the goals of analysis is you become your own analyst. You continue the process even if you're not in therapy, whether you continue the process by walking down the street thinking about things or whether you continue the process, as I do, by writing about them.

You are not what you want. You are what wants you back.

Let's see if I can write about something other than my heart.

The only way to write about right now is to write about the future.

It is a capital insult in this country not to make love to a naked woman, even if she is related to you.

By reading this message you are denying its existence and implying consent.