Las Vegas is the expression, in glitter and concrete, of Americas brittle and mutating id.

There are plenty of brilliant people who are too stressed out to read challenging literary novels.

When you notice light seeping into your coffin, it's hard to go on pretending that you're still dead.

You don't understand. I only prostitute the part of the body that isn't important, and nobody suffers except my karma a little bit. I don't do big harm. You prostitute your mind. Mind is seat of Buddha. What you do is very very bad. You should not use your mind in that way

Shun security, I advise aspiring novelists when they complain to me that they are stuck. Get disoriented. Maybe your agonizing writing block isnt agonizing enough. Your enemy is comfort.

To a Buddhist, contradictions only exist in a mind that has been forced to cultivate them.

I am moonlighting for the Buddha.