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The Reason I Know What We Are To Each Other Is Because We Fight Freely And Almost Constantly, About Even The Smallest Thing. In Fact, Once We Didn't Speak For An Entire Week Because He Didn't Like The Way I Loaded His Dishwasher...i Can't Decide If We're Exact Opposites, Or Somehow Exactly The Same Except For Minor Cosmetic Differences. I Do Know That All Of His Friends Hate Me And All Of My Friends Hate Him. We Drive Each Other Crazy In Ways That Nobody Else Can Even Touch. We Never Bore Each Other. And We Both Realize What A Rare Thing This Is.

-Augusten Burroughs

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The Reason I Know

Augusten Burroughs

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The Reason I Know What We Are To Each Other Is Because We Fight Freely And Almost Constantly, About Even The Smallest Thing. In Fact, Once We Didn't Speak For An Entire Week Because He Didn't Like The Way I Loaded His Dishwasher...i Can't Decide If We're Exact Opposites, Or Somehow Exactly The Same Except For Minor Cosmetic Differences. I Do Know That All Of His Friends Hate Me And All Of My Friends Hate Him. We Drive Each Other Crazy In Ways That Nobody Else Can Even Touch. We Never Bore Each Other. And We Both Realize What A Rare Thing This Is.

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I Don't Worry About Anything In The Internet Age. I Have Been Online Since I Was Aware Of It: 1985 In San Francisco. It Has Changed Everything In My Life. I Would Not Want To Even Be Alive In An Era That Did Not Have It Because It Is Essential To Our Evolution As A Species.

As A Writer, You Can't Allow Yourself The Luxury Of Being Discouraged And Giving Up When You Are Rejected, Either By Agents Or Publishers. You Absolutely Must Plow Forward.

What Nobody Understood Then Is This: The Only Way That You Achieve What You Want And Fulfill Your Dreams And Become Great Is By Demanding That Sort Of Attention. You Have To Make It Happen.

I Missed Him So Much That I Had Physical Sensations Of Loss, All Over My Body. Like One Minute I Was Missing An Arm, The Next My Spleen. It Was Making Me Feel Sick, Like Throwing Up.

Optimism Sprouts From The Knowledge That You Are In Control Of Your Own Life, Not Your Past And Not Those Around You. Part Of Being In Control Is Taking Responsibility For How You Feel. This Means Not Just Admitting To Uncomfortable Feelings But Then Examining Your Circumstances To See What Can Be Done To Change These Feelings At The Source.

Bad News Should Be Followed With Soup. Then A Nap.

As I Sat In The Hot, Salty Water, I Thought, 'no Wonder Mr. Bubble Always Gives Me A Urinary Tract Infection And Hives.' Mr. Bubble Was For Common People. Mr. Bubble Was For My So-called Brother, Their True Child. I Was A Vanderbilt. I Should Bathe In Condiments And Seasonings.

(the New Boyfriend) Knows I Write Every Day For Hours But Has No Idea That All I’m Writing About Is Me. It Seems Wiser To Let Him Think I’m An Aspiring Novelist Instead Of Just An Alcoholic With A Year Of Sobriety Who Spends Eight Hours A Day Writing About The Other 16.

I Felt A Bottomless Sadness. So Completely Alone. Like One Of My Stuffed Animals At Home That I Was Too Old For Now, That Sat On The Shelf In My Closet, Mashed Against The Back Wall.

I Think Part Of The Reason I'm Attracted To Foster Is Because He's Such A Mess. I Mean, The People I Have Loved In My Life Have Never Been Easy To Love. I'm Not Used To Normal. I'm Used To Disaster. I Don't Know, As Messed Up As He Is, He's Also Sort Of Exciting, Sort Of A Challenge. I'm Accustomed To Working For Love.

Most Everybody Had Made At Least One Bad, Drunken Decision In Their Lives. Called An Ex At Two In The Morning. Or Perhaps Has A Little Too Much To Drink On A Second Date And Wept Inconsolably While Revealing How Simply Damaged One Was, While Nonetheless Retaining An Uncommonly Large Capacity For Love. That Kind Of Thing Was, While Regrettable, At Least Comprehensible. But Waking Up With Someone Generationally Inappropriate, Like Your Grandfather's Best Buddy?

But Then, Look At Me. My Brain Is Incorrectly Formed, And I'm Shaped Like A Tube. Plus, I'm An Alcoholic, A "survivor" Of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Was Raised In A Cult And Have No Education. So, Really, If You Think About It, The Only Thing That Separates Me From The Guy With The Stinky Foot And No Teeth Is A Book Deal And Some Cologne.

It’s A Wonder I’m Even Alive. Sometimes I Think That. I Think That I Can’t Believe I Haven’t Killed Myself. But There’s Something In Me That Just Keeps Going On. I Think It Has Something To Do With Tomorrow, That There Is Always One, And That Everything Can Change When It Comes.

I Feel Like They Are Two Different Things, And When I Write Books, They're Just Books. If They Can Be Movies That's Okay. But I Would Write A Novel That Couldn't Be A Film.

I'm Not Going To Waste My Energy Looking Into The Eyes Of Someone Like The Guy Who Blew My Legs Off Trying To Find A Way To Forgive Him For Doing Something That Horrible When There Are Way More Productive Ways I Could Be Spending My Life. You've Got To Focus On Moving On.

You Are Allowed To Be Alive. You Are Allowed To Be Somebody Different. You Are Allowed To Not Say Goodbye To Anybody Or Explain A Single Thing To Anyone, Ever.

I Like, Though, That People Have A Hunger To Connect With Other People. They're Desperate To Know That You're Not Lying To Them Or Misleading Them.

Do Not Wait For The Healing To Arrive. It Will Never Come. The Holes Will Never Leave Or Be Filled With Anything At All. But Holes Are Interesting Things.

But I Can Also Write In Crappy Motel Rooms, While Standing In Line, Or Sitting In The Dentist's Chair.

You Must Never Allow Something That Happened To You To Become A Morbidly Treasured Heirloom That You Carry, Show People, Put Back In Its Black Velvet Pouch And Then Tuck Back Into Your Jacket Where You Can Keep It Close To Your Heart.

Dennis Looked At The Puppy In The Window. We Both Did. It Was The Oddest Thing. Normally, Puppies In Pet Store Windows Sleep Or Pee Or Roll Around On Top Of Other Dogs. This One Ignored Us Its Window-mates And Was Instead Sitting With Its Nose Pressed Against The Glass, Looking At Us With An Extremely Serious Little Expression On Its Face. An Expression That Seemed To Me To Be Saying, "i Am A Sacred Cow. Get Out Your Wallet.

After I Got My Coffee, I Leaned Against A Stop Sign And Sipped, Pretending It Was A Normal Day And I Was Only Up This Early So That I Could Go Running And Not Because I'd Just Been On A Killing Spree.

While I Liked Hamsters, Too, The Habitrail Cage Was Expensive. Even I Could See That The Interconnecting Boxes, Tubes, And Spheres Could Easily Bankrupt A Family And Lead To Addiction Later In Life. Because, How Would You Know When To Stop? How Could You Stop? An Entire City Could Be Built With A Habitrail.

He Continues To Smile Expectantly. I Take A Step Back. I Don't Want To Catch Whatever He Has. He Is A Disturbing Out-of-uniform Santa.

He Was Raised Without A Proper Diagnosis.

The Truth Is That Nobody Is Owed An Apology For Anything. Apologies Are Lovely When They Happen. But They Change Nothing. They Do Not Reverse Actions Or Correct Damage. They Are Merely Nice To Hear.

Because I've Lived In One Room My Entire Life, Working At The Same Table That You Use To Pay Bills At And Eat At. It's Going To Be Nice To Have Actual Space.

Any Damage That's Been Done, You Have To Fix Yourself Because It Needs Fixing And There Is Nobody Else To Do The Work. Blame May Well Be Justified, But It's Not Going To Move You Forward In Your Life.

Sometimes When You Work In Advertising You'll Get A Product That's Really Garbage And You Have To Make It Seem Fantastic, Something That Is Essential To The Continued Quality Of Life.

Saying Just The Right Thing After A Considerable, Awkward Pause Is Far Less Effective Than Saying The Wrong Thing With Perfect Timing. I'm Telling You.

Applause Is A Constant Thing In Aa. It's How We Buy Drinks For Each Other.

...handsome People Are Always Interesting To Watch. But A Handsome Person In Crisis Is Riveting.

We Haven't Slept Together. But We've Napped

I Couldn't Help But Think, This Car Is Taking Me To A Mental Hospital And My Mother Is Treating It Like Open-mic Night At A Greenwich Village Café.

I've Just Finished My Next Collection, Possible Side Effects, And I'm Now Working On A Collection Of Holiday Stories As Well As A Memoir About My Relationship With My Father.

It Terrified Me To Consider: What If, As A Grown-up, I Craved Another Body Beside Me As Still As This One? What Then?

There Is No Shame In Being Hungry For Another Person. There Is No Shame In Wanting Very Much To Share Your Life With Somebody.

I'll Always Write About What's Going On In My Life And The Reason For That Is It's Not Actually Because I'm So Fascinated With Myself, It's Because I Can't Think. I Can't Think Like Have Thoughts In My Head And Think Them Through And Come To A Conclusion. It's Like Math For Me.

But My Favorite Band Is Curbside Life, Out Of Chicago.

As A Young Child I Had Santa And Jesus All Mixed Up. I Could Identify Coke Or Pepsi With Just One Sip, But I Could Not Tell You For Sure Why They Strapped Santa To A Cross. Had He Missed A House? Had A Good Little Girl Somewhere In The World Not Received The Doll He'd Promised Her, Making The Father Angry?

I Love To Both Give And Receive Very Old Books.

Giving And Receiving

I'm Grateful For A Lot Of Things. One Is Not Being A Drunk Wreck. Or Losing All Four Limbs In Some Ridiculous East Village Bus Accident That I Was So Destined For.

I Think I Love Him, But I Also Think That You Can Love People Who Aren't Good For You.

In The Opening To The Mary Tyler Moore Show Mary's In The Supermarket, Hurrying Through The Aisles. She Pauses At The Meat Case, Picks Up A Steak And Checks The Price. Then Rolls Her Eyes, Shrugs And Tosses It In The Cart. That's Kind Of How I Feel. Sure I Would Have Liked Things To Be Different. But, 'roll Of Eyes' What Can You Do? 'shrug' I Threw The Meat In My Cart And Moved On.

I Don't Have A Fixed Routine. I Write Every Day But I Don't "write" Every Day, If That Makes Any Sense. In Other Words, I Email With My Friends Constantly And Sometimes I'll Pull Out Something I've Written And Save It.

And She's A Nurse. Do You Know How Hard Nursing School Is? It's Like Medical School. So She's Obviously Smart.

No Matter How Huge Your Loss, As Long As You Remain Engaged With Your Life, The Best Days Of Your Life May Still Be Ahead Of You. Don't Misunderstand Me: The Pain Of Your Loss Will Remain With You For The Rest Of Your Life. But Great Joy Will Be There Right Beside It. Deep Sorrow And Deep Joy Can Exist Within You, Side By Side. At Every Moment. And It's Not Confusing. And It's Not A Conflict.

Self-pity Is The Bestiality Of Emotions: It Absolutely Disgusts People. When You're Feeling Pity For Yourself, And Somebody Says To You 'you Think Maybe It's Time For The Pity Party To Be Over? You Should Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself And Try To Think Positive,' It Makes You Wish You Could Saw Their Head Off.

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New York City Is A Place Where You Can Lock Yourself Up In Your Little Studio Apartment, And Not Go Outside At All, And Not Feel In The Slightest Guilty About It.

I Think Writers Tend To Be Experience Junkies, And I Think They Also Tend To Want To Be On The Outside Looking In.

My Mother Began To Go Crazy. Not In A 'let's Paint The Kitchen Red!' Sort Of Way. But Crazy In A 'gas Oven, Toothpaste Sandwhich, I Am God' Sort Of Way.

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Fact: Upon Locking Yourself Our Of Your Apartment You Will Immediately Need To Use The Bathroom. Fact: And Then You Will Stand In Place And Watch Your Door. You Will Just Stare. As Though Rebuffed By It. As Though It Has Done This To You.

Time Moves Only Forward, Never Back. We Look Forward To A Moment And Then It Arrives And An Instant Later It Is Gone. Like Something On The Surface Of A River That We Reached For But Did Not Touch In Time And It Carried On, Away. You Cannot Be A Prisoner Of Your Past Against Your Will. Because You Can Only Live In The Past Inside Your Mind.

Even When We Lose An Arm Or A Leg, There's Not Less Of Us But More. Human Experience Weighs More Than Human Tissue.

Even Painfully Shy And Awkward People Are Not Painfully Shy Or Awkward When They Are Alone. The Way To Access This Natural, Comfortable Alone-self When You Are With Others Is By Choosing To Forbid Yourself To Wonder What "they" Are Thinking. Instead, Force Yourself To Exist In The Instant, Then Take It- And Give It- As It Comes.

My Thoughts Seem Thick, Ketchup Stuck In A Bottle. Like Trying To Feel Someone's Face While Wearing Goosedown Mittens.

When I First Thought Of Being A Writer I Had Visions Of Stacks Of Books In Stores With My Name On Them, That Sort Of Thing. But I Never Imagined This Would Be The Reaction.

It Was Like Living In A New House. I Saw The Undersides Of Tables, Walked Through The Tangle Of Chair Legs. It Would Be Good To Be A Dog, I Thought. You Would Feel Safe Surrounded By All Of These Leggy Objects That Never Tried To Run Away.

Women Smirk At Baldness. How Adorable Would They Find It If They Began To Lose Their Breasts In Their Late Twenties? If Both Tits Just Shrunk Up - Unevenly I Might Add - And Eventually Turned Into Wine-cork Nubs. Then It Would Be A Different Story. Then Men Would Get The Pity That They Deserve. As Far As I'm Concerned, Baldness Is The Male Breast Cancer Only Worse, Because Almost Everyone Gets It. True, It's Not Life Threatening. Just Social-life Threatening. But In New York City, There Is No Difference.

And I Hope She Does Not Live In A Dark World. Because Even The Most Terrible Loss Doesn't Have To Make You Darker; It Can Make You Deeper.

I Wouldn't Want To Waste Any Of My Brain Cells On Forgiving If It's Holding Me Back.

Decisions Are Beautiful. They Are The Evidence Of Thought And Care. Decisions Are The Polishing Cloths Of Life.

I Think People Tend To See The Bigger Point, Which Is Maybe Not Fitting In And Feeling Like You Didn't Have The Childhood That You Expected You Would Have, Or That You Felt Lonely Or Struggled With Drugs And Alcohol Or Just That You Were Able To Achieve Your Dreams.

I Remember, No Matter How Impossible It Seemed That Any Given Day Would End, It Always Did. This One Would, Too.

My Instinct Was Always Have Your Gun In Your Hand. Especially When You Are Telling Somebody To Do Something. But, In Fact, The Police Academy Discourages This. They Feel Your Gun Should Rarely, If Ever, Be Brought Out Of Its Holster. Most Certainly Not When Children Are Involved, Which Is Exactly When I Saw Myself Using My Gun Most Often. A Truant Teenager Loitering Outside A Movie Theater Is Going To Be Far More Motivated To Return To School When He Has The Barrel Of A .45 Pressed Against His Cheek.

Childhood Is What Ended Me Up In The Hospital And Teetering On The Edge Of Deathly Alcoholism. It Was Really Good For Me To Accept It. To Accept All The Embarrassment And The Shame So I Don't Feel Like I Used To.

The More Obsessed One Is With Getting Thin, The More Certain It Becomes That One Will Never Get There.

Although I Was Able To Maintain A Pleasant Expression, I Was Mentally Throwing Up In Her Face.

But I Am Not Here Ironically; I Am Here Sincerely.

In The Same Way That A Tornado Rips The Roof Off A Double-wide Trailer, Leaving The Occupants Dazed And Staring At The Clouds From The Splinters Of What Used To Be Their Living Room, It Was Over.

I Loved Most When His Eyelashes Twitched And He Blinked, And Suddenly Happiness Was There Inside His Eyes. Unmistakable. Like A Single Word Printed On A Clean White Page.

All Children Should Be Loved, Protected, Nurtured --emotionally And Intellectually-- Respected, And Never, Under Any Circumstances, Underestimated.

For Exactly The Same Reason, It Is Sometimes Satisfying To Cut Yourself And Bleed. On Those Gray [sic] Days Where Eight In The Morning Looks No Different From Noon And Nothing Has Happened And Nothing Is Going To Happen And You Are Washing A Glass In The Sink And It Breaks - Accidentally - And Punctures Your Skin. And Then There Is This Shocking Red, The Brightest Thing In The Day, So Vibrant It Buzzes, This Blood Of Yours. That Is Okay Sometimes Because At Least You Know You're Alive.

If You Hate Your Life, You Haven't' Seen Enough Of It. If You Hate Your Life, It's Because Your Life Is Too Small And Doesn't' Fit You.

If I Were Blind I'd Rather Have Another Blind Person Leading Me Around Because They Know What I'm Dealing With And They're Experiencing The Same Things.

In Order For Us [people] To Progress, We Need Brilliance And Brilliance Isn't Fair And It's Not Polite And We Can't Grow It. It Happens. Genius Happens And It Doesn't Always Happen In A Zip Code Where We Can Access It. Therefore, We Kind Of Need [internet] Not To Keep Tabs On Everybody But We Need To Give Them Access To Everybody Else.

The Most Important Thing For A Writer To Do Is To Write. It Really Doesn't Matter What You Write As Long As You Are Able To Write Fluidly, Very Quickly, Very Effortlessly. It Needs To Become Not Second Nature But Really First Nature To You. And Read; You Need To Read And You Need To Read Excellent Books And Then Some Bad Books. Not As Many Bad Books, But Some Bad Books, So That You Can See What Both Look Like And Why Both Are What They Are.

What Police Officer Would Dare Ticket Death's Minivan?

You Can Make Almost Anything A Learning Or Positive Experience. I Think I Offer A Good Example Of How To Make The Most Out Of What Life Gives You And How To Keep Moving On.

When I Ate Vanilla Frosting Straight From The Can, I Could Feel God Standing Right Nest To Me Like A Real Best Friend, Watching, And Smiling, And Wishing He Had A Mouth.

It Was A Salad Bar Of Phobias

He's A Really Nice Guy, If Only I Weren't Me.

I Just Look At Her And She Creeps Me Out. She Looks Like She Would Eat A Baby. Not That She's Fat. She Just Looks Hungry In Some Dangerous Way That Can't Be Explained. She's Always So Nice And Friendly. Exactly The Disposition Of A Baby Killer.

I Love You," She Said, And I Knew She Meant It Because She Spoke The Words From The Heart At The Center Of Her Chest. This, At Least, Had Not Been Left Behind At The Hospital.

The Past Does Not Haunt Us. We Haunt The Past. We Allow Our Minds To Focus In That Direction. We Open Memories And Examine Them. We Reexperience Emotions We Felt During The Painful Events We Experienced Because We Are Recalling Them In As Much Detail As We Can.

Our Lives Are One Endless Stretch Of Misery Punctuated By Processed Fast Foods And The Occasional Crisis Or Amusing Curiosity.

[christmas] Holidays Are A Heavy, Heavy Time. We Make Light Of Them With Our Red And Green And Our Stockings And Candy Canes, But People Think Heavy Thoughts Over The Holidays Because That's When You're Thinking About Family. Are We Close? Or Are We Not As Close As Other People?

I Never Listen To Music When I Write.

Listening To Music

You Would Be Amazed By What You Can Give Up, Lose, Or Break, And Yet Still Be A Person Who Gets Happy Over Brownies.

You Cannot Be A Prisoner Of Your Past Against Your Will. Because You Can Only Live In The Past Inside Your Mind.

Smoking Had Become My Favorite Thing In The World To Do. It Was Like Having Instant Comfort, No Matter Where Or When.

I Did Not Consider Him To Be Any Kind Of A Genius. I Considered Him Deeply Lacking In The Area That Mattered Most In Life. Star Quality.

I'm Always Prepared For The Worst.

People Generally Like Happy Endings, Which Is Something I Learned From My Years In Advertising. I Like Happy Endings Myself, But Only If They're Honest. I'm Just As Happy With A Terrible, Hopeless Ending.

My Subconscious Does The Writing; I Don't Have Control Over That.

I Myself Am Made Entirely Of Flaws, Stitched Together With Good Intentions.

I Don't Believe In The Concept Of A Soul Mate. Because We Are All Unique, But We're Also Simply Too Similar.

I Always Tried To Learn Greek, But All I Got Out Of It Was, "poulaki Mou." ["my Little Chicken."]

The Problem With Not Having Anybody To Tell You What To Do, I Understood, Is That There Was Nobody To Tell You What Not To Do.

This Is What Happens When You Go Against The Grain Of Truth. You Get Splinters Later On.

The Line Between Normal And Crazy Seemed Impossibly Thin. A Person Would Have To Be An Expert Tightrope Walker In Order Not To Fall.

Should I Just Sit Down, Right Here At Carousel Seven, And Shake Until Somebody's Arms Are Around Me And They're Saying, 'it's Okay, I'm Here, I'm Here, Come With Me To The Institute.

No Matter Your Spiritual Beliefs, If You Hold Any, The Answer Is The Same: Sometimes, Why Is Not Knowable. If You Open The Refrigerator Door And A Tub Of Kozy Shack Tapioca Pudding Tumbles Out And Splats Open Onto The Floor, You Clean It. You Don’t Stand There And Question Why It Happened, How It Was Possible. Why Doesn’t Matter Now.

A Lot Of Being A Writer Doesn't Have Anything To Do With Writing. It's Ironic - I Have To Squeeze The Books In, Even Though That's What It's All About.

Nobody's Trying To Kill You, Deirdre. You're Killing Yourself.

Killing Yourself

Part Of Me Believes That Love Is More Valuable When You Have To Work For It.

Before I'm A Writer, I'm Definitely A Reader And When I Read Memoir, I Really Want It To Be True.

I Was On The Cover Of A Lot Of Newspapers. I Was On The Cover Of Usa Today For Every Single Day For A Month. I Was On The Masthead, So I Tend To Get Recognized A Lot, And In Weird Places. It's Always Flattering, And It's Always Odd. It's Always At The Worst Possible Time.

But Even With My Minimal Amount Of Fame, There Are Certain Perks. Recently, I Was At A Movie Premier, And At The Party After The Movie, Meryl Streep Was Loose, Walking Around The Room Like A Normal Person. Absolutely Nothing Was Preventing Me From Lunging Toward Her And Shrieking "dingoes Ate My Baby! Dingoes Ate My Baby!

Maybe It Was A Patty Hearst Thing. Stockholm Syndrome Or Whatever It's Called When You're Being Held Against Your Will But Then You Become Sucked In And Fall In Love. Or If Not Exactly Love, You Fall Into Something You Can't See Out Of. 'i Can't Shoot A Machine Gun' Becomes 'hey, This Hardly Has Any Kick-back!

Falling In Love

So We Can Be Filled With Holes And Loss And Wide Expanses Of Unhealed Geography - And We Can Also Be Excited By Life And In Love And Content At The Exact Same Moment.

The Schnauzer Listens To Jazz. I Listen To Jazz Because He Likes It, And I Have Even Gone To Jazz Concerts With Him, But Truthfully I Would Rather Listen To Retarded Children Pounding On Pan Lids With Wooden Spoons.

The Only Other People Who Have Had Experiences Similar To Those Of This Man Were Locked Up Inside Institutions For The Criminally Insane. The Difference Is, This Guy Gets Business Cards.

There Is Nothing About Myself That I Wouldn't Reveal Or Write About. I Don't Care How Horrendous Or Ridiculous I May Appear In Person Or In Print. There Is Great Freedom In Not Caring What Other People Think.

Writing Has Enriched My Life In Ways I Never Imaged.

I'm Like The Guy Who Prepares Your Taxes Or A Dentist. I'm Very Conservative And Boring In A Lot Of Ways.

I Realized I Could Really Become Hooked On These Happy Pills. They Gave Me A Glorious Feeling Of General Well-being And Didn't Make Me Fat, Like Alcohol. I Wondered If There Was Any Harm In Being Addicted To Only These.

But Feelings, No Matter How Strong Or “ugly,” Are Not A Part Of Who You Are. They Are The Radio Stations Your Mind Listens To If You Don’t Give It Something Better To Do. Feelings Are Fluid And Dynamic; They Change Frequently. Feelings Are Something You Have, Not Something You Are. Like Physical Beauty, A Cold Sore, Or An Opinion. Admitting You Feel Rage Or Terrible Pain Or Regret Or Some Old, Rotten Blame Does Not Mean These Feelings Are Part Of Who You Are As A Person. What These Feelings Mean Is, You Have To Change Your Thinking To Be Free Of Them.

What I Really Want Is To Sit Next To Someone Under An L.l. Bean Blanket On The Beach In The Fall And Drink Coffee From The Same Mug. I Don't Want Some Rusty '73 Ford Pinto With A Factory-defective Gas Tank That Causes It To Explode When It's Rear-ended In The Parking Lot Of The Supermarket. So Why Do I Keep Looking For Pintos?

I've Overcome A Lot - Sexual Abuse, Death Of A Loved One, Bad Parents And Experienced Life. My Nature Is Such I Not Only Survived All This But I Have Thrived. I've Always Been Psychologically Ambitious In That I've Never Been Willing To Settle Emotionally For Anything Less Then What's Needed. I've Wanted More Then That From Life.

Death Of A Loved One

Your Mind Is Like An Unsafe Neighborhood; Don't Go There Alone.

There's A Lot About Being "a Writer" That Has Nothing To Do With Writing. That's One Thing I've Discovered. You've Got To Meet With The Sales Force, And You've Got To Have All These Luncheons, And Be Gracious, And You've Got To Give A Lot Of Presentations And You've Got To Give A Lot Of Speeches, And You've Got To Be On Tour.

You Deserve To Need Me, Not To Have Me.

Once I Decided To Write, To Be Published, I Knew It Would Happen.

The Dark Side Of Blogging Is, Of Course, People Can Be (and Are) Just Savage And Uncivilized, Deeply Cruel And Fully Unaccountable.

I Saw A Monkey Walking On A Leash And Thought It Was An Ugly Foreign Child.

When You Say, "i Need More Confidence," What You're Really Saying Is, "i Need Those People Over There To Approve Of Me." That Is The Desire To Control Other People And What They Think. The First Person Who Figures Out How To Do This Owns The World.

Like Every Child, I Adored Her. Until I Formed A Brain And Got To Know Her.

I Can't Tell You How Much I Love Target And Costco, That Kind Of Culture, Because It's Something I Never Felt A Part Of. I've Always Felt Like A Tourist Because I Have Never Fit In Anywhere.

I Never Question The Way I Write. Writing Is The Only Thing That's Without Seams For Me. It's An Effort To Talk Because My Pictures Have To Be Turned Into These Sounds. It's An Effort To Be Alive. It's Work. But Writing Is Wonderful.

Most Of Us Have Love In Our Lives. Most Of Us Love Other People Are Are Ourselves Loved By Others. But Make No Mistake: You Are Alone In The World. You Were Born Alone, Even If You Were Born Conjoined. And You Die Alone, Unable To Bring A Single Person With You.

I Knew That He Was As Reliable As A Mathematical Formula.

If You Find You Require Willpower, You Aren't Ready To Lose Weight.

Life Would Be Fabric-softener, Tuna-salad-on-white, Pta-meeting Normal.

To Me, These People Were As Exotic As Animals In A Zoo. I'd Never Seen Anything Like Them. I Wasn't Sure Whether I Wanted To Be One Of Them Or Simply Live Among Them Taking Notes And Photographs.

I Don't Really Think Of My Blog As A Real Blog. It's A Lame Blog. It's More Like My When-the-mood-strikes Update, Or Smoke Signal.

My Mistake Was In Underestimating The Emotional Force Of A Song You Have Already Hear A Thousand Times.

Everybody In Recovery Smokes. If You Don't Like Smoking, Don't Even Bother Trying To Get Sober. Just Stay Drunk.

I Was Like A Packet Of Powdered Sea Monkeys And They Were Like Water.

A Lot Of People Can Be Afraid Of The Masking Because People Can Misrepresent Themselves [in The Internet] And They Can Pose As People They're Not. Well, Yeah; That's True. That's One Side Of It. But The Other Side Of It Is That It Equalizes You And If You Happen To Be A Person Who Is Not Equal In The Eyes Of The Greater Society That's A Damn Good Thing.

Maybe You Feel Pressure To Be Positive Because So Many People Rely On Your Good, Fake-positive Energy? If That's The Case, Screw Everybody Else. You're Not A Bottle Of Valium.

Positive Energy

The Most Valuable Moments And Experiences That Life Has To Offer Are Found Only Along Its Most Treacherous Paths.

The Truth About Not Having Everything You Need, Not Being Fully Equipped Or Qualified Or Allowed Is That These Limits Are The Nebula Of Creative Genius. When You Have Total Freedom I.e: No Limits At All. You Stop Trying To Make The Best Of Things

And In My Mind, This Settles The Issue. I Would Never Drink Cologne, And Am Therefore Not An Alcoholic.

But She Did Love Him. I Believe It. I Know Exactly How That Is. To Love Somebody Who Doesn't Deserve It. Because They Are All You Have. Because Any Attention Is Better Than No Attention.

And Of Course, The Answer Came To Me In The Same Way Jesus Comes To Those Who Drink In Trailers: As An Epiphany.

I Hate Feelings. Why Does Sobriety Have To Come With Feelings?

Tracy, The Leader Of The Cdh Group, Looks At Me With Eyes That Seem To Belong To Someone Three Times Her Age. It's Something Beyond Wisdom, All The Way To Insanity And Back. It's Like Her Eyes Are Scarred From All The Things She's Seen.

Perfection Is The Satin-lined Casket Of Creativity And Originality. If You Are A Perfectionist, At Least Stop Telling Everybody You're One And Try To Get Over It Yourself, Alone In Your Home With The Lights Off

Like Cubic Zirconia, I Only Look Real. I'm An Imposter. The Fact Is, I Am Not Like Other People.

When People Meet Me, Many Times They're Very Surprised Because They Expect Someone Who Is Kind Of Wacky With Seven Piercings And Very Hip And Cool And New York City, And I'm Not.

There Is No Such Thing As Too Ordinary To Write About, Whether That's Life Or A Scene In A Novel. What's Interesting To People, Whether It's Memoir Or Fiction, Is The Truth.

Reading Takes Solitude And It Takes Focus.

This Is How You Survive The Unsurvivable, This Is How You Lose That Which You Cannot Bear To Lose, This Is How You Reinvent Yourself, Overcome Your Abusers, Fulfill Your Ambitions And Meet The Love Of Your Life: By Following What Is True, No Matter Where It Leads You.

As A Child, I Was Never Drawn Toward Depraved Or Extreme Situations; I Really Wanted A Normal Little Childhood. Unfortunately, That's Just Not What Happened.

Glen Had A Disability More Disfiguring Than A Burn And More Terrifying Than Cancer. Glen Had Been Born On The Day After Christmas. "my Parents Just Combine My Birthday With Christmas, That's All," He Explained. But We Knew This Was A Lie. Glen's Parents Just Wrapped A Couple Of His Christmas Presents In Birthday-themed Wrapping Paper, Stuck Some Candles In A Supermarket Cake, And Had A Dinner Of Christmas Leftovers.

You Have An Incredible Body." He Reaches Out To Touch My Stomach. I Feel No Pleasure In His Compliment Or His Touch, Only Impatience. This Is The Only Feeling. I Feel Like The Paper On Which My Mood Chart Is Printed.

Some Damage Is Too Severe, Some Harm Endures. And What You Have To Do Is Accept It. And By Accept It I Mean, Don’t Be The Paralyzed Person In The Bed Who Is Waiting To Walk Again. Realize, It’s Never Gonna Happen. And Find Some Other Way To Get Around –swing From A Vine, Get A Mad Max Wheelchair. Anything But…wait.

The Most I Would Do Was Use The Shadow Tool In Photoshop To Bring Out The Muscular Rips In My Stomach, Which Were Honestly There. Beneath The Fat.

My Window Fogs And This Makes Me Feel Like There Is No World Outside Of The Car.

I Never Get Sick Of Writing My Own Stories Because There's A Certain Comfort In Knowing You Will Never Run Out Of Material. It's Relaxing, Actually, To Write.

My Only Ritual Is To Just Sit Down And Write, Write Every Day.

Think Of The Actual Physical Elements That Compose Our Bodies: We Are 98 Percent Hydrogen And Oxygen And Carbon. That's Table Sugar. You Are Made Of The Same Stuff As Table Sugar. Just A Couple Of Tiny Differences Here And There And Look What Happened To The Sugar: It Can Stand Upright And Send Tweets.

Not Crazy In A 'let's Paint The Kitchen Bright Red!' Sort Of Way. But Crazy In A 'gas Oven, Toothpaste Sandwich, I Am God' Sort Of Way. Gone Were The Days When She Would Stand On The Deck Lighting Lemon-scented Candles Without Then Having To Eat The Wax.p28

I Read A Lot Of Science Books - I Love Cosmology, Quantum Theory, Particle Physics. So My Idea Of A Great Read Would Probably Put You Directly Into A Coma.

Thanksgiving Was Nothing More Than A Pilgrim-created Obstacle In The Way Of Christmas; A Dead Bird In The Street That Forced A Brief Detour.

So That's What I'm Here To Become. And Suddenly, This Word Fills Me With A Brand Of Sadness I Haven't Felt Since Childhood. The Kind Of Sadness You Feel At The End Of Summer. When The Fireflies Are Gone, The Ponds Have Dried Up And The Plants Are Wilted, Weary From Being So Green.

And Human Instinct Is Ancient And Reliable, Utterly Mysterious And Possibly Capable Of Great Genius. I Believe That Refined, Fluent Instincts Are A Person's Most Valuable Asset. My Own Instincts Have Repeatedly Guided Me Against The Grain Of Logic And Probability. When I Have Trusted And Followed Their Direction, They Have Never Been Wrong. I Don't Know How Or Why. But I Know That Every Significant Experience-positive Or Negative-sharpens Them And Makes Them More Accurate.

It's Weird - Sort Of Not Terribly Wise - To Take A Book That Was Successful And Then Change Its Cover.

I Never Could Have Written The Screenplay Because I Would Have Been Forced To Learn New Software And I Can't Learn One More Thing.

Red Hair Is Great. It's Rare, And Therefore Superior.

If I Were A Serial Killer, I Would Not Be The Kind That Stabs And Then Eats The Victim. I Would Be The Kind That Hides In A Tree And Shoots At The Aerobics Class.

I Knew That If I Wrote A New Book Every Six Months Or Every Year, If I Continued To Read Great Books, Eventually I Would Write Something Worthy Of Publication. I Understood I Might Be In My Forties Or My Fifties Or Even My Sixties, But I Felt Confident That It Would Happen.

It Was Unnerving, The Way She Could Go From Cool Efficiency To Sarcastic To Sweet Within The Space Of Thirty Seconds. I Found It Very Manipulative And Controlling. It Put The Other Person Constantly On-guard. And It Was Extremely Intimidating Because You Never Knew When She Was Going To Snap. I Made A Mental Note To Refine These Skills Within Myself.

I Don't Read Memoirs. But If You Write A Memoir, I Would Think You'd Want People To Know, "o.k., Look, I've Taken Some Liberties Here." It's Just A Matter Of Being Open With Your Readers.

Just As I Had Long Suspected, A Person Didn't Really Need Math For Anything Anyway. Maybe Some People Did. Some Limited People.

I Told Myself, 'all I Want Is A Normal Life'. But Was That True? I Wasn't So Sure. Because There Was A Part Of Me That Enjoyed Hating School, And The Drama Of Not Going, The Potential Consequences Whatever They Were. I Was Intrigued By The Unknown. I Was Even Slightly Thrilled That My Mother Was Such A Mess. Had I Become Addicted To Crisis? I Traced My Finger Along The Windowsill. 'want Something Normal, Want Something Normal, Want Something Normal', I Told Myself.

You Need To Grab Your Dream Out Of The Sky Like It's A Kite And Pinch The String Through Your Fingers Until You Reach The Spool.

I Don't Think Writers - In General - Ever Achieve The Fame Of Movie Stars. For The Simple Reason That Only A Fraction Of The Population Reads. But I Guess There Are Exceptions.

It Turned Out I Had Always Been A Smoker. I Just Hadn't Had Any Cigarettes.

Long Marriages Have Ended In Ruin Over Tiny And Insignificant Grievances That Were Never Properly Aired And Instead Grew Into A Brittle Barnacle Of Hatred.

The Reason I Know What We Are To Each Other Is Because We Fight Freely And Almost Constantly, About Even The Smallest Thing. In Fact, Once We Didn't Speak For An Entire Week Because He Didn't Like The Way I Loaded His Dishwasher...i Can't Decide If We're Exact Opposites, Or Somehow Exactly The Same Except For Minor Cosmetic Differences. I Do Know That All Of His Friends Hate Me And All Of My Friends Hate Him. We Drive Each Other Crazy In Ways That Nobody Else Can Even Touch. We Never Bore Each Other. And We Both Realize What A Rare Thing This Is.

The Thing For Someone Just Starting Off [in Writing] Is To Write. You Need To Have Limber Fingers, Whether You Write With Your Fingers Or You Type On Your Laptop, But You Need To Have A Limber Mind And You Need To Be Able To Write Without Judging What You've Written, At Least Right Away, And Without Editing Right Away.

If You Believe Suicide Will Bring You Peace, Or At The Very Least Just An End To Everything You Hate- You Are Displaying Self-caring Behavior. You Are Still Able To Actively Seek Solutions To Your Problems. You Are Willing To Go To Great Lengths To Provide What You Believe Will Be Soothing To Yourself. This Strikes Me As Optimistic.

Real Optimism Is Not The Pep Talk You Give Yourself. It Is Earned Through The Labor Involved In Emotional Housekeeping.

I've Learned How To Turn The Adversities In My Life Into Enriching Experiences. You Can Actually Gain A Lot From Adversities And They Make You The Person You Are Today.

I Was In Advertising For Years. That Was Cushy, You Know? It's Pretty Cushy In A Lot Of Ways, But I Hated It.

I Used To Feel So Alone In The City. All Those Gazillions Of People And Then Me, On The Outside. Because How Do You Meet A New Person? I Was Very Stunned By This For Many Years. And Then I Realized, You Just Say, "hi." They May Ignore You. Or You May Marry Them. And That Possibility Is Worth That One Word.

I Once Read About A Guy Who Lost His Arms In A Fire. The Nurse Took Pity On Him And Gave Him A Hand Job. I Don't Even Get That.

I Could Write Another Collection Of Personal Essays From What Has Happened To Me In The Last Year Alone. I Don't Seek Out My Material - It Finds Me. I Am Magnetic, Somehow.

I Know Exactly How That Is. To Love Somebody Who Doesn't Deserve It.

My Parents Had This Relationship That Was Really Terrifying. I Mean, The Level Of Hatred That They Had, And The Level Of Physical Abuse - My Mother Would Beat Up My Father, Basically - And I Think I Was Drawn To Images On Television That Were Bright And Reflective.

My Brother Was Born Without Taste Or The Desire To Be Professionally Lit.

I Was Learning That If I Lived Slightly In The Future-what Will Happen Next-i Didn't Have To Feel So Much About What Was Going On In The Present.

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