My hell is going to be the stairmaster wing of Dante's inferno, where they're gonna tape my feet to the pedals and the only music I get is Michael Bolton karaoke style.

I was too ignorant to realize, "Oh, this will be difficult."

Listening to your tape, I was reminded of this poem. It has the central question: Is it harder to count on someone or to know that you're being the one counted upon? Anyway, there's this part that goes: if equal affection cannot be, then let the more loving one be me. Have you ever read that one? It's one of my favorites.

You can't have cinema by committee if you're trying to do it well.

To combat social awkwardness, I would just act like I couldn't be bothered - that kind of aloof persona or aloof demeanor. It's so off-putting.

I'm almost 46. You become no longer even regarded in a sexual way. As you get older you're just taken out of that realm. So it's not anything that particularly confronts me very much at all.

There's a fake Facebook me. There's a fake me Twittering. Sometimes, when it was at the height of right-wing nonsense picking on me, there would be a fake me writing letters to the editor. Just totally not even something I've ever said, that will then become part of the echo chamber.