I lay off a lot modern fiction and only rely on living writers for non-fiction work.

I urge you to read the Occupy Manifesto, written by the New York City General Assembly. It is unavoidably clear. This is not directionless action. If it were, the media would have moved on.

I have come to regard November as the older, harder man's October. I appreciate the early darkness and cooler temperatures. It puts my mind in a different place than October. It is a month for a quieter, slightly more subdued celebration of summer's death as winter tightens its grip.

I don't need to have my convictions confirmed by a show of numbers. However, being among people in front of a band leads me to believe that all is not lost, that humans, now and then, can communicate on a higher level than the political and the practical.

I guess I am famous in a way. I would rather consider it recognizable - I think that is more logical. I don't feel famous.

I've made some great mistakes in my life, but, you know, they were honest mistakes.

Everyone who knows me knows that I'm a hopeless romantic who listens to love ballads and doo-wop songs all the time.