what actually happens to my physical remains is of zero interest to me. i don t want anybody seeing my body. i don t want anybody i don t want a party. reported dead. unless they can provide entertainment value in a perverse or subversive way. i mean, if you could throw me into a wood chirp, spray me into har rod s in the middle of the rush hour, that would be pretty epic. i wouldn t being mind being remembered in that way. one, two, three four five six with the radio on i m in love with massachusetts and the neon when it s cold outside and the highway when it s late at night with the radio on what the [ muted ] am i doing here? i shall explain. one minute i was standing next though a deep fryer. the next, i was watching the sunset over the sahara. i realize that one thing led directly to the other. had i not taken a dead-end dish washing job, i would not have become a cook. had i not become a cook, i would never have become a chef. had i not bec
when he came over for thinking of thanksgiving i was going to carve the turkey and he took over. thanksgiving i was going to carve the turkey and he took over. he was very short with me about how i wasn t taking care of my knives. saw you when you were just born. do you remember that? my relationship with tony has always been as a writer. he was such a powerful writer right from the start. he was on business in tokyo for the first time. and he was writing me a series of emails. he did one of those bursts. the jet lag wouldn t let me sleep, so i crashed late and rose early, plunging blindly down dark streets at all hours. the streets unbelievably dense with pedestrians, people hanging around, flashing neon, flapping banners. screaming signs, with pimpy young men. asian women in thigh-high boots and no one i mean no one would meet my eye with the direct gaze.