There's something about the rhythms of language that correspond to the rhythms of our own bodies.

I don't paint anymore. I haven't since I abandoned it at 19, in order to begin writing seriously.

Discomfort is very much part of my master plan.

For those whose ganglia were formed pre-TV, the mimetic deployment of pop-culture icons seems at best an annoying tic and at worst a dangerous vapidity that compromises fiction's seriousness by dating it out of the Platonic Always, where it ought to reside.

I'm not too embarrassed to say I'm the definition of the target audience. This is my generation, the one of exalting music in album form.

I learned to write fiction the way I learned to read fiction - by skipping the parts that bored me.

I definitely care about how the concept of New York punk was constructed, and why it mattered. But I wasn't gonna do that. Partly because I'm not a great journalist...