The women who line up at a comic's dressing-room door are not what you'd call your class groupies.

My tombstone? I'm thinking something along the lines of, 'Geez, he was just here a minute ago.'

I don't think we really gave barbarism a fair try.

Does killing time damage eternity?

One of the interesting things about "outsidership" is that underneath it there's a longing to belong. I just wish the thing I refused to belong to - the species, Western capital culture - was a little more respectable. My one true relaxation is my flotation tank, in which I can either meditate or just drift off.

I literally didn't know my father. My mother had been a secretary, and after she and my father split, she went back to work for an advertising executive. So my older brother and I were "latch-door kids." We went home for lunch and after school by ourselves.

People who see life as anything more than pure entertainment are missing the point.