I'm being mocked because I don't live up to a socially determined view of what other people think a person should look like.

My plays have been strange from the beginning, and they never got unstrange.

I have been vain since birth. I expected other people to like what I did, although my vanity has definitely diminished over the years.

I grew up. I began to think the United States had some problems that really required the help of artistic people to solve. And I gave myself permission to be a writer instead of a civil servant.

My father was a jazz listener, and I think, at least before I was 5, I was not so into that. Although there were records that emphasized percussion that I liked, like Baby Dodds.

For some reason, people find me funny. It's quite hard to define why a thought is funny. It's even harder to define why a person would be funny. It's a word that I can't define at all. But whether I know quite what it is or not, I seem to be it.

Who says one instance of writing has anything in common with another instance?