After Having Read A Lot Of Fiction,

Gay People Don't Have A Personality Problem. They Have A Problem With Small-minded Motherfuckers Who Can't Conquer A 1-inch High Curb.

I Don't Believe In Fate Or Destiny. I Believe In Various Degrees Of Hatred, Paranoia, And Abandonment. However Much Of That Gets Heaped Upon You Doesn't Matter - It's Only A Matter Of How Much You Can Take And What It Does To You.

My Main Goal Is To Stay Alive. To Keep Fooling Myself Into Hanging Around. To Keep Getting Up Every Day. Right Now I Live Without Inspiration. I Go Day To Day And Do The Work Because It's All I Know. I Know That If I Keep Moving I Stand A Chance. I Must Keep Myself Going Until I Find A Reason To Live. I Need One So Bad. On The Other Hand Maybe I Don't. Maybe It's All Bullshit. Nothing I Knew From My Old Life Can Help Me Here. Most Of The Things That I Believed Turned Out To Be Useless. Appendages From Someone Else's Life.

I Think I Am The Most Impressed With Writing Styles That Defy Category, Like Kharms Or Selby, Breton Or Jarry, Where You Become As Interested In The Writer As Much As The Writing Itself. It's All These Things That Make Reading So Appealing To Me.

I Live My Life Through The Prism Of Capitalism And Physiological Limits And Eventualities.