When We Don't Get The

But What I Really Want Is To Just Swim Around In A Warm Baby Pool Of These Friends, Jump In Their Dry Leaf Pile-to Rub Them All Over Myself, Without Words And Clothes.

And There Is A Chance That Everything We Did Was Incorrect, But Stasis Is Itself Criminal For Those With The Means To Move, And The Means To Weave Communion Between People.

I'm Never A Fan Of The Sociopathic Kind Of Reviewing, People Who Are Sort Of Self-immolating And Have Social Problems Or Whatever, And Let It Out In Literary-criticism Form. I Just Feel Like Book Reviewing Should Be Respectful And Calm And Not Filled With Bile.

No. There Is No Balance, And No Retribution, And No Rules. The Rules And Balances You Blather About Are Hopeful Creations Of A Man Fearing Death.

Every Time My Brain Parks The Car Neatly In The Driveway, My Mouth Drives Through The Back Of The Garage.