I loved Seattle because it was Seattle, and I loved my apartment because I was a ten-minute walk from the University District.

we lived in this world,

but what were we like?

—Ron Slate, Writing Off Argentina

Here's the name that I'd give to a breakfast cereal: Cinnamon Eat the Bacon Instead; Either Way, You Die, with Bran

Now, my book came out a little over eleven months ago, and it seemed that hardly anybody had noticed.

That guy I beat to death with a lawn chair? It was a Buick.

I'm mostly concentrating my energies these days on my annual winter depression. This year's is going pretty well, and we're projecting that I should enter the bottommost level of despair during the first week of February.

It's the wanting to know that makes us matter. —Tom Stoppard, Arcadia

Okay, so hardly anybody bought my book. What, you can’t pull together $13.95, plus shipping and handling, to help a brother out?

My book came out at the end of January, but hardly anybody noticed. I could not have been more embarrassed.

One of the things that I think that I am is "chill." You know: mellow, kick-back, cool. When I tell people that I know pretty well that I think of myself as being pretty chill, they tend to look at me incredulously, as if I’m being completely deluded.