One morning I woke up and was plunged into psychological shock. I had forgotten I was free.
Art is beauty, the perpetual invention of detail, the choice of words, the exquisite care of execution.
It's funny how all of this has worked out - I wasn't popular in high school, but now every drunken guy in the United States wants to be my pal. They all want to buy me a shot, and pretty soon I'm throwing up.

