~He was a fiction writer and he was always one to sacrifice the truth for a good story.~

~"Did you write today?"
"A little."
"Was it good?"
"You never know until 18 days later."~

~I went and found a large rock and started smashing it against the lock. It wouldn't give. What the hell would Jack London do? What would Hemingway do? Jean Genet?~

~No, I got lost out of ignorance and fear. I am not a complete person - I'm a stunted city person. I am more or less a failed drizzling shit with absolutely nothing to offer.~

~There's no way I can stop writing, its a form of insanity.~