I'm sitting in my office trying to squeeze a story from my head. It is that kind of morning when you feel like melting the typewriter into a bar of steel and clubbing yourself to death with it. (“Advance Notice”)

Chris Nielsen: Thank you for every kindness. Thank you for our children. For the first time I saw them. Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with. For your guts, for your sweetness. For how you always looked, for how I always wanted to touch you. God, you were my life. I apologize for everytime I ever failed you. Especially this one.

If you go too far in fantasy and break the string of logic, and become nonsensical, someone will surely remind you of your dereliction....Pound for pound, fantasy makes a tougher opponent for the creative person.

Now when I die, I shall only be dead.

Thank you...for gracing my life with your lovely presence, for adding the sweet measure of your soul to my existence.

What condemnation could possibly be more harsh than one’s own, when self-pretense is no longer possible?

Because there was only one thing worse than dying. And that was knowing you were going to die. And where. And how. (“Death Ship”)