First of all, I wish I could grow a beard.

I believe that by releasing "passing interest/low keepsake-value literature" from the burden of physicality, you are actually releasing the words from their worst liability: the price and inconvenience of actual bookness.

That which is hard to do is best done bitterly.

Most people presume my mustache is not real because it's much darker than my regular hair.

I made an impulse buy of a house in Maine to make my wife happy and now have gone back into debt and it's all started over for me.

By the way, if I have my own cult of personality with my own geodetic dome in western Massachusetts, I will have a hurt yurt for anyone who crosses me.

You wouldn't want to live a life in which you are loved or approved by all people on Earth or even within your own geodetic dome full of your jumpsuited followers.