I'm learning to hate the sound of my own voice.

I've never related to the work geek at all-it sounds much more horrible than nerd. Like a freak biting a chicken's head off in a sideshow.

I never have been a musician; I'm not actually capable. Because I can't even pretend to acquire the gift, all of my first feelings about art are still attached to music. I look at it yearningly, I look at it wonderingly. I behold it from afar, as something unattainable, something outside of myself, from which I can take nourishment, but I can't domesticate and master.

Nerds are just deep, and neurotic, fans. Needy fans. We're all nerds, on one subject or another.

The past is still visible. The buildings haven't changed, the layout of the streets hasn't changed. So memory is very available to me as I walk around.

Fantastic writing in English is kind of disreputable, but fantastic writing in translation is the summit.

It's now expected of me that I will defy expectation, so I really generally seem to be free to write what I want.