One Of The Goals Of Analysis Is

Before My First Novel, I Was Dating A Woman Who Later Went To Prison For Bashing A Guy With A Hammer.

Michigan, With Its Delicious American Name. How Lucky One Must Be To Live There.

My Hair Would Continue To Gray, And Then One Day, It Would Fall Out Entirely, And Then, On A Day Meaninglessly Close To The Present One, Meaninglessly Like The Present One, I Would Disappear From The Earth. And All These Emotions, All These Yearnings, All These Data, If That Helps To Clinch The Enormity Of What I'm Talking About, Would Be Gone. And That's What Immortality Means. It Means Selfishness. My Generations Belief That Each One Of Us Matters More Than You Or Anyone Else Would Think.

People Always Write On My Facebook That They've Seen Somebody They Thought Was Me On The Subway, And I Was Cursing Badly.

If You Read Only One Memoir By A Disaffected, Urban, 20-something Jewish Girl This Year, Make It This One. Shukert Rocks The Lulav.