I am a spy in the house of me. I report back from the front lines of the battle that is me. I am somewhat nonplused by the event that is my life.
Females get hired along procreative lines. After 40, we’re kind of cooked.
Anything you can do in excess for the wrong reasons is exciting to me.
Mothers are great. They outlast everything. But when they’re bad, they’re the worst thing that can happen.
No, as it turns out, I really like being congratulated on my weight loss. I like it so much, it’s tragic.
I think of my body as a side effect of my mind.
I like performing. I like partnering with an audience.
I really love the internet. They say chat-rooms are the trailer park of the internet but I find it amazing.
My father was a joyous, joyous spirit, he really was. He was a hedonist, that was just – he enjoyed life, thrust up to the elbows with it. He was a terrible father. I don’t know that he was parented that well.
Sometimes I think all I want to find is a mean guy and make him be nice to me. Or maybe a nice guy who’s a little bit mean to me. But they’re usually too nice too soon or too mean too long.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve got my nose pressed up against the window of a bakery, only I’m the bread.
What worries me is, what if this guy is really the one for me and I just haven’t had enough therapy yet for me to be comfortable with having found him.
I shot through my twenties like a luminous thread through a dark needle, blazing toward my destination: Nowhere.
There are two things that I know for certain guys are good for: pushing swings and killing insects.
Drugs made me feel more normal.
What doesn’t kill men makes them stronger. What doesn’t kill women makes men breakfast.
I did masses of opiates religiously.
Mistakes are a drag, because you get in the area of regret and self-pity.
I feel so agitated all the time, like a hamster in search of a wheel.
I was into pain reduction and mind expansion, but what I’ve ended up with is pain expansion and mind reduction.