The Black Situation Has Changed.

I Think The Pattern Of My Essays Is, A Funny Thing Happened To Me On My Way Through Finnegans Wake.

I Gave Up Writing Blurbs Because You Make One Friend And 200 Enemies.

When Somebody Asks Me What I Do, I Don't Think I'd Say Critic. I Say Writer.

Critics? How Do They Happen? I Know How It Happened To Me. I Would Send A Poem Or Story To A Magazine And They Would Say This Doesn't Suit Our Needs Precisely But On The Other Hand You Sound Interesting. Would You Be Interested In Doing A Review?

I Have, I Admit, A Low Tolerance For Detached Chronicling And Cool Analysis.