[b]Nora Ephron
I live in my neighborhood. My neighborhood consists of the dry cleaner, the subway stop, the pharmacist, the supermarket, the cash machine, the deli, the beauty salon, the nail place, the newsstand, and the place where I go for lunch. All this is within two blocks of my house. Which is another thing I love about life in New York: Everything is right there. If you forgot to buy parsley, it takes only a couple of minutes to run out and get it. This is good, because I often forget to buy parsley.[/b]
Can you say the same about your own neighborhood?
Actually, I almost can about mine.
Every so often I contemplate suicide merely to remind myself of my complete lack of interest in it as a solution to anything at all.
In other words, she was one of the lucky ones.
In a socialist country you can get rich by providing necessities, while in a capitalist country you can get rich by providing luxuries.
Let’s imagine this in, say, Pyongyang.
On some level, my life has been wasted on me. After all, if I can’t remember it, who can?
The past is slipping away and the present is a constant affront. I can’t possibly keep up.
Of course now she doesn’t have to.
I have spent a great deal of my life discovering that my ambitions and fantasies - which I once thought of as totally unique - turn out to be clichés.
What’s that say about our ambitions and fantasies then?
I think the hardest thing about writing is writing.
Damn, it would have to that, wouldn’t it.