I Run Blindly Through The

I Don't Like To Think Of My Readership As "fans," A Word Which Has Always Suggested A Kind Of Power Relationship I'm Uncomfortable With.

When Was The Last Time You Had A Thought That Wasn't Put There By Them?

He Felt The Hot Impact Of Bullets. He Heard The Sound Of Chopping Meat. He Thought 'is That Me?' . . . And Then He Opened His Eyes.

It's Salt. Why Don't You Sprinkle Some On Me, Honey? Aren't I Just Good Enough To Eat?

And I Ask Him Why He Cuts His Arms With A Razor. "just Fo Feel. Just To Feel Something.