'So you hop on a teapot and listen to this chick called Moon or June or Spoon who wants to tell you you’ve a beautiful aura, but doesn’t want to discuss her RL non-existence as a dental technician in Las Cruces.'
'Way out at word number 70 or 100 or 140 in a sentence deep into a three-page paragraph of macabre humour or fabulously reticulated self-consciousness, you could smell the ozone from the crackling precision of his sentence structure.'
'A few years back I was flying out to California, reading Brief Interviews with Hideous Men. I found the book was doing weird things to my mind and body. Suddenly, up there over the Midwest, I felt agitated and flinchy.'
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