I Went To The Bedroom

That's The Artist's Job, Really: Continually Setting Yourself Free, And Giving Yourself New Options And New Ways Of Thinking About Things.

I Don't Think I'm More Of A Screenwriter Than I Am A Fiction Writer. I'm More Of A Reader Than A Film-watcher, So I Imagine That I'm Not Approaching Fiction Or Films In A Particularly Cinematic Way.

My Ideal Life Is Just Lounging Around The House And Every Once In A While I'll Kind Of Write Something, And Then I'll Leave And Eat Something And Masturbate Or Whatever - Just This Very Fluid Life Of Comforting Myself.

It Was A Real Whale, A Photograph Of A Real Whale. I Looked Into Its Tiny Wise Eye And Wondered Where That Eye Was Now. Was It Alive And Swimming, Or Had It Died Long Ago, Or Was It Dying Now, Right This Second? When A Whale Dies, It Falls Down Through The Ocean Slowly, Over The Course Of A Day. All The Other Fish See It Fall, Like A Giant Statue, Like A Building, But Slowly, Slowly.

It Was A Tiny Sound But It Woke Me Up Because It Was A Human Sound.