Too Clear, Too Clean. The

Because You Can't Write Habitually And Well All The Time, You Have To Be Willing To Write Badly. That's How You Get The Regularity That Enables You To Be Present For The Good Stuff.

Nineteen Eighty Is Almost Here, Thank God. The Hippies Are Getting Old, They Blew Their Brains On Acid And Now They're Begging On Street Corners All Over San Francisco. Their Hair Is Tangled And Their Bare Feet Are Thick And Gray As Shoes. We're Sick Of Them.

A Sense Of That Kind Of Narrative Movement That We Experience Online Could Have Been In My Mind Easily, Though Not Consciously. I Do Rely So Much On My Unconscious, The Way I Write My Stuff The Way I Do. I Let My Unconscious Work. I Have Better Ideas That Way And More Interesting Work.

I Find Myself Thinking More About The Past As I Get Older... Maybe Because There's Just More Of It To Think About. At The Same Time, I'm Less Haunted By It Than I Was As A Younger Person. I Guess That's Probably The Ideal: To Reach A Point Where You Have Access To All Of Your Memories, But You Don't Feel Victimized By Them.

I Am At My Worst Trying To Write About Things That Overlap With My Life.