In such places as Greenwich Village, a menage-a-trois was completed- the bohemian and the juvenile delinquent came face-to-face with the Negro, and the hipster was a fact in American life.

We sail across dominions barely seen, washed by the swells of time. We plow through fields of magnetism. Past and future come together on thunderheads and our dead hearts live with lightning in the wounds of the Gods.

I don't want to retire. I'm not that good at crossword puzzles

While I'm working on a book, I rarely read anything more than The New York Times. Which may have the long-term effect of flattening my style.

Cancer is the growth of madness denied.

I was thinking that surgeons had to be the happiest people on earth. To cut people up and get paid for it-that's happiness, I told myself.

Los Angeles is a constellation of plastic.