A Cat Is The Only

I Am The Heterosexual Truman Capote.

A Cat Is The Only Domestic Animal I Know Who Toilet Trains Itself And Does A Damned Impressive Job Of It.

I Know How Many Days In Which I Have Just Answered E-mail, Had Three Phone Calls And A Two Hour Lunch. Poof, Gone. They Are Not Infrequent.

I Think The Story Is My Form.

I Am Afraid I Am One Of Those People Who Continues To Read In The Hope Of Sometime Discovering In A Book A Single—and Singular—piece Of Wisdom So Penetrating, So Soul Stirring, So Utterly Applicable To My Own Life As To Make All The Bad Books I Have Read Seem Well Worth The Countless Hours Spent On Them. My Guess Is That This Wisdom, If It Ever Arrives, Will Do So In The Form Of A Generalization.