The Radio Station Was Playing Tchaikovsky's Swan

I Have Some Memories Of Certain Things That Happened In High School When I Was Stoned Out Of My Mind, But I Talked With Other People About Them, And I Trusted The Aggregated Memories.

I Was Very, Very Sick When I Was Growing Up In Russia. The Ambulance Constantly Came To Our House. I Had Horrible Asthma That Is Easily Treated In America, But They Didn't Even Have Inhalers Back In Russia.

I Felt The Weakness Of These Books, Their Immateriality, How They Had Failed To Change The World, And I Didn't Want To Sully Myself With Their Weakness Anymore.

I'm The Fortieth Ugliest Man In This Bar. But So What! So What!... Isn't This How People Used To Fall In Love?

In Contravention Of My Belief That Any Life Ending In Death Is Essentially Pointless, I Needed My Friends To Open Up That Plastic Bag And Take One Last Look At Me. Someone Had To Remember Me, If Only For A Few More Minutes In The Vast Silent Waiting Room Of Time.