The thing about chameleoning your way through life is that it gets to where nothing is real.

Nothing is as boring as other people's dreams.

I really like umbrellas. It's like, I have a roof! I carry it with me! Umbrellas always amuse me.

How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" In reality, "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" were probably not Simon Bolivar's last words (although he did, historically, say them). His last words may have been "Jose! Bring the luggage. They do not want us here." The significant source for "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" is also Alaska's source, Gabriel Garcia Marquez's The General in his Labyrinth.

There's not a lot of room for un-ironic emotion in contemporary culture. I think that irony is an important tool in dealing with the world as we find it. It's a tool of protection, but it can also be a tool of incision to get to some truth. But along the way maybe we've lost some of what I think of as the power of straightforward emotion and earnestness and seriousness.

As far as all of our identities are dependent on how other people imagine us we are all making ourselves and each other up all the time

We're professional worriers. You're constantly imagining things that could go wrong and then writing about them.