I Am Gripped By An

...if You're Alone Nothing Bad Can Happen To You.

What Else Is There To Do In College Except Drink Beer Or Slit One's Wrists?

You Don't Market-research A Novel; You Really Are Writing It For Yourself. It's A Hobby, In Many Ways. The Problem Becomes What You Do When You're Confronted By Criticism. You Just Don't Listen To It.

She Laughs And Looks Out The Window And I Think For A Minute That She's Going To Start To Cry. I'm Standing By The Door And I Look Over At The Elvis Costello Poster, At His Eyes, Watching Her, Watching Us, And I Try To Get Her Away From It, So I Tell Her To Come Over Here, Sit Down, And She Thinks I Want To Hug Her Or Something And She Comes Over To Me And Puts Her Arms Around My Back And Says Something Like 'i Think We've All Lost Some Sort Of Feeling.

What Do You Do?' She Asks, Holding Out The Vest. 'what Do You Do?' 'what Do You Do?' She Asks, Her Voice Shaking. 'don't Ask Me, Please. Okay, Clay?' 'why Not?' She Sits On The Mattress After I Get Up. Muriel Screams. 'because... I Don't Know,' She Sighs. I Look At Her And Don't Feel Anything And Walk Out With My Vest.