7:28 AM — My eyes pop open a full hour before my alarm is supposed to go off. A nameless dread grips me. Oh god, I think. What
Where do I get my ideas from? You might as well have asked that of Beethoven. He was goofing around in Germany like everybody else, and all of
Calvin: Here I am, waiting for the bus. Eleven more years of school to go. Then college, then maybe graduate school, and then I work until I die….
Why don’t you show me that Paris,” she said,” that you have written about?” One thing I know, that at the recollection of these words I suddenly realized