Once in a while I think about giving up city life for the great unknown. Somewhere people don’t spit on the subway platform, or where you can get respite from the internet beyond the subway platform. Basically, any place where you don’t spend so much time thinking about the subway platform.
Sometimes—all the time—I think about presidents and presidential candidates, and what it would be like to meet them. My psychiatrist says it’s because I don’t get enough sleep, but I think it’s because I like to judge peoples’ personalities by their handshakes.
According to Philip Larkin, our parents fuck us up. This is perhaps more true for children of celebrities, dictators, and renowned writers. Who can blame them?
Americans take their privacy very seriously, which is why so many of us give all of our personal information to Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter, and then complain about it. Below are some folks who really don’t—or didn’t—want to be found out about.
One of the things I love about America is how willing the public is to accept someone stepping back into the spotlight (most of the time) (athletes especially). Well, you be the judge.
All good things must come to an end. Like this column, and many celebrities, writers, and celebrity writers. See you on the other side.
Home is where the heart is. Or Lena Horne’s forks.
When you were a toddler, doctors told your parents you had a "failure to thrive." Which means: You're small, and you're going to be short. Later, when medication helps you grow faster than you’ve ever grown before, the hardest part may be deciding when to stop.
My doctor says I should exercise three to four times per week. He told me walking to the subway doesn’t count (neither does walking home from it).
Marriage seems cool. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. A wise friend once gave me some advice: always do a background check.
