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"Advertising make everything seem better than it actually is. And that's why it's such a perfect career for me. It's an industry based on giving people false expectations. Few people know how to do that as well as I do, because I've been applying those basic advertising principles to my life for years."
"Especially since advertising dictates that you're only as good as your last ad. This theme of forward momentum runs through many ad campaigns."
"When I open a bill, it freaks me out. For some reason, I have trouble writing checks. I postpone this act until the last possible moment, usually once my account has gone into collection. It's not that I can't afford the bills--I can--it's that I panic when faced with responsibility. I am not used to rules and structure and so I have a hard time keeping the phone connected and the electricity turned on."
"I, on the other hand, try to trick and manipulate people into parting with their money, a disservice."
"There is a gash and there is blood. More blood, really, than the gash calls for. Head wounds are so dramatic."
"It would be austere except for the leopard-print chair behind the desk which lets you now the person in this office is "creative."
"When I was a kid, the "e" went out in the local Price Chopper grocery store and stayed out for many years. Because the "Pric Chopper" logo happened to be a man wielding an ace, the sign sent out an eerie and powerful castration message, which, at the age of twelve, affected me deeply."
"Paul is the first person to start. "My name is Paul and I'm an alcoholic." ... The room screams, "Hi Paul!" back at him with such startling force that I flinch."
"I feel like I have less baggage and so, I don't know, I'm able to just accept things more, not have to fight them. Don't fight the river, go with it."'
"He and my mother are like clams without shells. Clams and snails and lobsters without their shells. Vulnerable and exposed. I email my mother every day... I'm removed from her not just by miles and cities, not just by computer, but also by time. I call fairly often, but I don't send her any money even though a little of mine would be huge for her. Is this punishment? It just feels too difficult to find the stamp, make out the check and mail it off. Like when you have a dream where you're trying to run underwater. I'm not committed to my mother..."
"I thought about how I could never bring myself to visit her. And when I did, last time must have been over a year and a half ago, I could never bring myself to stay long. From the moment I walked in the door to her apartment, the need hit me in the face, thick like an odor. Would I change a lightbulb? Then roll her across the bridge. Then buy canned tuna. Then unscrew something, affix something or bring something to her and set it in her lap. Always turning something on or off, moving something from one side to another. As if she needed me to do these things, me specifically.... I feel dirty when I visit my mother. I feel that her intimacy is exposed. Her nightgowns are so thin that her flesh shows through them. Her need is like a vagina. And I do not like to see it.... These rooms smell of paralysis. They smell of the handicapped."
"Now that I've asked if we can talk, I don't want to talk. "Maybe it's just my Sunday night dread. I hate Sundays, I don't want to go to work tomorrow."
"He said they had a quiet night. And I could imagine it. He said they ate dinner together. And I could hear the knives scraping against the plates. I could hear the water glasses being set down on the table. Both of them sitting there, steeping in failure. And I was thinking how horrible that must feel. How doomed I would feel if it has been me sitting there telling people that I relapsed."
"It's better than manual labor," I point out. "The least amount of work for the most amount of money." ... Only two hours of actual work, yet it's drained us completely."
