If we taught children to speak, they'd never learn.
I guess I watch movies to make myself happier a lot.
Grief and memory go together. After someone dies, that's what you're left with. And the memories are so slippery yet so rich.
We never did things as we were supposed to do. That was part of our ethic. We did what felt right to us, not what someone told us we should do.
I would hate to think I'm promoting sadness as an aesthetic. But I grew up in not just a family but a town and a culture where sadness is something you're taught to feel shame about. You end up chronically desiring what can be a very sentimental idea of love and connection. A lot of my work has been about trying to make a space for sadness.
My dad's gay experiences really had a very positive influence on me and my straight relationships - how to better accept all the weirdness and ambiguity and ups and downs and paradoxes. I knew from the beginning I was writing about love.
The littlest thing can have the strongest connection when you're grieving. Your Proustian, poetic nerve is turned up to ten.
Being second is to be the first of the ones who lose.
I've been enjoying playing with fashion - gold grills and diamond grills have just become a part of that.
From one seed a whole handful: that was what it meant to say the bounty of the earth.
I often think about how, if we were all placed in an apocalyptic situation, you'd realize quickly how stupid, petty things just don't matter anymore. Who you love is who you love, and it doesn't matter. Survival is your primary focus.