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Forgetting Sarah Marshall

My battery is draining, and I’m forced to put it away. Now what? I am left sitting with my burrito salad and fancy juice drink, feeling vulnerable and judged.

Writers who decide they want to BE A WRITER forget that, because they’re so concerned with “sounding like a writer” that they become more concerned with sounding smart than they do with communicating what they’re trying to say.

Winter makes my ears feel like they’re going to walk out on the rest of my head, but I refuse to invest in wool caps because they make me look like a fetus. I don’t want to look like a fetus.

If you get trapped by a mob of angry comic book fans, you scream: “Look! It’s Alan Moore and he brought scones!” And then you book it the other direction and don’t look back. Never look back and don’t stop running. Pretend it’s like Speed, except that you are the bus.

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