It was my first big chance, but here I was, sitting back and letting it run through my fingers like so much water.

I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.

I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn't say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers.

Spiderlike, I spin mirrors, Loyal to my image.

God has to remind us this isn't heaven by a long shot, so he increases the radios and lethal flies.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

I feel occasionally my skull will crack, fatigue is continuous - I only go from less exhausted to more exhausted & back again.