I wonder if the guy at the gun store would give me a discount on the bullets I'll need if I told him what I was up to.

I’m packed with broken glass and memories and it all hurts.

At times, I feel America is something that I can actually put my arms around, more than a land mass and a Constitution, something far more containable and understandable. I don't exactly know what it is, but at these times I feel completely woven into it.

Can you imagine telling a woman she can't vote!? The women I hang out with would be going home with parts of your anatomy swinging from their rearview.

I am neither pro- nor anti-gun. I am gun-conscious.

I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.

My mother, a very eclectic listener, had the first Doors album and gave it to me when I expressed interest in the band. It was one of the first records I ever had. As the years passed, the babysitters who used to look after me would bring their Doors albums to the apartment, and that's how I got to hear their later work.