Mood: don't ask
Now Playing: april is the cruelest month.
I don't believe in the sanctity of marriage; I believe in the sanctity of the commitment between two lovers.
Staying married because of the opinion of "The Church" is insane. The Church isn't your husband. Or your wife. What do its priests know, as Margaret Sanger used to ask, of love or marriage or children?
Nothing worth knowing.
I knew a couple once. Married for seventeen years and divorced for seventeen years. By the end of their first seventeen, they were no longer friends; by the end of their last seventeen, it was the will of Nature herself that they should be the dearest of friends.
I don't know what motivates people, but I am afraid to look.
Which is why I am sitting utterly alone at a table near an old horseracing track, writing in a notebook while, across the chain-link fence before me, are many thousands of drunk rednecks, roasting in the sun and stewing in their own liquids as they listen to old honky tonk players and other wash-ups save the American Farmer.