TW Interview by Martha Nichols
I think he stumbled on telling the truth to save his own life—and it worked.
I think he stumbled on telling the truth to save his own life—and it worked.
Having a famous parent is a leg up to nowhere. It made sense to people that Kurt Vonnegut’s son would have mental health problems.
The intensity and obtuseness of family bonds is a mystery few of us tire of.
The glory and heartache of having your own family is there’s no possibility of staying out of the mess.
I steered clear of anything creative, preferring the safety of science over nuance. I lived my life with one finger on my own pulse.
Anger is the sensation of 'peppercorns in a mortar and pestle, grinding around in a circle until they finally yield and crack.'
I’m not ready yet. Really, God, all those times I said I wish I was dead? I didn’t mean it.
I’d never seen that part of the body before. It looks so much like drawing.
Sometimes, I light candles to rekindle the flame. Or to burn the evidence.