So I Feel That Lack

I Don’t Want To Fade Away, I Want To Flame Away - I Want My Death To Be An Attraction, A Spectacle, A Mystery. A Work Of Art.

Her Only Thought Was Of Getting Away, As If She Were Carrying A Live Grenade From Inside The House, So That When It Exploded, It Would Destroy Just Herself.

We're [writers] All Afraid Of Writing Badly, And There Are Psychological Reasons, Like The Bad Interior Of Ourselves Is Somehow Being Revealed, But We All Fear That, And You Can't Write Well If You're Not Willing To Write Badly. That's Why You Have To Make Writing A Habit, So It Feels Normal And Not Strange.

At Night, The House Thick With Sleep, She Would Peer Out Her Bedroom Window At The Trees And Sky And Feel The Presence Of A Mystery. Some Possibility That Included Her--separate From Her Present Life And Without Its Limitations. A Secret. Riding In The Car With Her Father, She Would Look Out At Other Cars Full Of People She'd Never Seen, Any One Of Whom She Might Someday Meet And Love, And Would Feel The World Holding Her Making Its Secret Plans.

Vinegar: That's What Fear Smells Like.