I've Always Been Intrigued By Stockholm Syndrome.

After My First Novel, My Mother Said To Me, 'why Don't You Make Your Writing More Funny? You're So Funny In Person.' Because My First Novel Was Rather Dark. And I Don't Know, But Something About What She Said Was True. 'yes, Why Don't I?' Maybe I Was Afraid To Be Funny In The Writing. But Since Then, Seven Books Later, Almost Everything I've Done Has A Comedic Edge To It.

The Real Self And The Public Self Are Intertwined, Like A Tumor Around An Organ, And You Can't Cut The Tumor Or You'll Kill The Organ, So They Live Together, Until The Tumor Chokes The Organ Off - But Which Self Is The Tumor?. Or It's Like Something Out Of Star Trek. The Borg.

I've Really Never Written About My Relationships, Or Things Like That. I Wouldn't Want To Divulge Things That Were Too Private.

Nothing Wrong With Changing Your Mind. That's A Very Unwaffling Thing To Say: "nothing Wrong..." Who Am I To Say That There's Nothing Wrong With It? Maybe Something Is Wrong With Changing Your Mind. Anyway, Love Is Very, Very Difficult. I Love. But Probably Because I Hate Myself On Some Deep, Sick Level, It Makes Loving Difficult. But I Do Try.

I'm Also Not Sure That I Look Up To Others As Knowing What The Hell Is Going On, Except Maybe Andre Agassi, Who, When I Interviewed Him, While Covering The U.s. Open, Seemed To Know What Was Going On. My Basic Assumption Is That We're All Confused All The Time. Some People Do Act More Confident, Though. Maybe They Aren't Confused. I Am. I'm Confused.