It’s Mostly Just You Have

I Plan Years In Advance, But I Like To Leave Enough Space In The Narrative Scheme To Change Things, Because I Always Get My Best Ideas The Closer I Come To The End Of A Project, After I've Lived With It For A While.

My Art School Rejection Letter Arrived As A Cold Manila Fist That Closed Around My Fragile Hopes ... The Fear Was Practically Edible. Nothing Would Happen Unless I Get Out And Make It Happen. Then, As If Handling Me The Keys To The Jet Pack, My Dad Bought Me A Typewriter And A Taped Message To The Inside Of Its Case: "son - The World Is Waiting To Hear From You".

Your Head's Like Mine, Like All Our Heads; Big Enough To Contain Every God And Devil There Ever Was. Big Enough To Hold The Weight Of Oceans And The Turning Stars. Whole Universes Fit In There! But What Do We Choose To Keep In This Miraculous Cabinet? Little Broken Things, Sad Trinkets That We Play With Over And Over. The World Turns Our Key And We Play The Same Little Tune Again And Again And We Think That Tune's All We Are.

My Greatest Accomplishment So Far Is To Keep Selling Enough That I Never Want For The Labor That Sustains My Presbyterian Soul.

One Must Commit Acts Of The Highest Treason Only When Dressed In The Most Resplendent Finery.