When They're Born Outside, Crows

In The Beginning, I Was Put Off By The Harshness Of German. Someone Would Order A Piece Of Cake, And It Sounded As If It Were An Actual Order, Like, "cut The Cake And Lie Facedown In That Ditch Between The Cobbler And The Little Girl."

Nobody Pours Stuffing Like You Do, My Friend.

I Don't Really Do Very Well When I'm Sent Somewhere. A Lot Of Magazines Want To Send You Somewhere To Do Something. They Want You To Stow Away On A Ship, Or Something Like That.

Even As A Child I Was Fascinated By Death, Not In A Spiritual Sense, But In An Aesthetic One. A Hamster Or Guinea Pig Would Pass Away, And, After Burying The Body, I'd Dig It Back Up: Over And Over, Until All That Remained Was A Shoddy Pelt. It Earned Me A Certain Reputation, Especially When I Moved On To Other People's Pets. "igor," They Called Me. "wicked, Spooky." But I Think My Interest Was Actually Fairly Common, At Least Among Adolescent Boys. At That Age, Death Is Something That Happens Only To Animals And Grandparents, And Studying It Is Like A Science Project.

I Mean, I'm Always Happy If I Have, Like, Humiliating Asshole Things That I Did. I Think: Oh Good, That's A Good Story. Because If You Write About Humiliating Asshole Things Other People Do It Doesn't Work As Well. I Mean, You Can, But You Can Get Away With It Better If You Talk About What An Asshole You Are. It's Much Easier.