It's Doubtful That Anyone With An Internet

Even In An Intensely Mediated World, In A World That Offers At Least The Illusion Of Radical Self-invention And Radical Freedom Of Choice, I As A Novelist Am Drawn To The Things You Can't Get Away From. Because Much Of The Promise Of Radical Self-invention, Of Defining Yourself Through This Marvelous Freedom Of Choice, It's Just A Lie. It's A Lie That We All Buy Into, Because It Helps The Economy Run.

It'sthe Fate Of Most Ping-pong Tables In Home Basements Eventually To Serve The Ends Of Other, More Desperate Games.

Fiction, I Believed, Was The Transmutation Of Experiential Dross Into Linguistic Gold. Fiction Meant Taking Up Whatever The World Had Abandoned By The Road And Making Something Beautiful Out Of It.

The World Was Ending Then, It's Ending Still, And I'm Happy To Belong To It Again.

Our Lives Look A Lot More Interesting When They’re Filtered Through The Sexy Facebook Interface. We Star In Our Own Movies, We Photograph Ourselves Incessantly, We Click The Mouse And A Machine Confirms Our Sense Of Mastery.