I don't think I'm very interesting. I am deeply self-involved, but I don't think that should be of much interest to anyone else. I write shit down. It's what I do to keep from exploding, imploding.... talking. I am quiet. Insecure. Shallow. Sexual. I don't know whether it is the nature of a writer to dislike attention for the product of a too-fruitful imagination, or to both seek and reject attention. I don't care. I dislike writing about writing and here I am doing just that. I am happy, and this is having a reverse Hemingway-effect on my production of well-strung (unstrung) words. Which is to say I can only create if I am miserable or drunk.
I have led too many lives.
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