From the most recent issue of The Believer:

“Warships don’t kill people; warship captains, though, sometimes knife smart-asses in the appendix, accidentally.”

Somehow, despite wanting to be a writer and wanting to write, I’ve become a kind of workaholic, trying to get through each day, a day at a time, without doing any work.

If it were bottled, I’d drink it, but instead I’ve got to bottle it myself. To do that, apparently, I’ll mix my metaphors like bathtub hooch. I know it burns, but I hope you can get a buzz off it.