I Write At All Different Times. I

My Dad Finds Twitter Just Infinitely Unrelatable. He's Like, 'why Would I Want To Tell Anybody What I Had For A Snack, It's Private?!' And I'm Like, 'why Would You Even Have A Snack If You Didn't Tell Anybody? Why Bother Eating?'

I Didn't Have To Wait Six Years To Get My Show On The Air, Worry That Someone Else Had A Similar Idea, Or Wait Around For Notes That Took My Voice Out Of The Show.

Sometimes I Was So Bored That I Started Arguments Just To Experience The Rush Of Almost Losing Him.

I Get A Lot Of Unasked For Sexual Confessions.

I Can Never Be Who I Was. I Can Simply Watch Her With Sympathy, Understanding, And Some Measure Of Awe. There She Goes, Backpack On, Headed For The Subway Or The Airport. She Did Her Best With Her Eyeliner. She Learned A New Word She Wants To Try Out On You. She Is Ambling Along. She Is Looking For It.