Quote

Thanksgiving was nothing more than a pilgrim-created obstacle in the way of Christmas a dead bird in the street that forced a brief detour.

Augusten Burroughs

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Augusten Burroughs
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: October 23
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Pittsburg
Pennsylvania
Street
Detours
Bird
Pilgrim
Created
Obstacle
Streets
Thanksgiving
Dead
Brief
Nothing
Forced
Way
Obstacles
Christmas
Detour

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I thought, I can't do advertising any more, so I was downloading all these PDF applications from community colleges. And I thought, I'll become a paramedic. I'll get a two-year associate degree, if I can get in.
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I don't think writers - in general - ever achieve the fame of movie stars. For the simple reason that only a fraction of the population reads. But I guess there are exceptions.
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When I first thought of being a writer I had visions of stacks of books in stores with my name on them, that sort of thing. But I never imagined this would be the reaction.
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We were young. We were bored. And the old electroshock therapy machine was just under the stairs in a box next to the Hoover.
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You need to grab your dream out of the sky like it's a kite and pinch the string through your fingers until you reach the spool.
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I realized I could really become hooked on these happy pills. They gave me a glorious feeling of general well-being and didn't make me fat, like alcohol. I wondered if there was any harm in being addicted to only these.
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This is what you should know about losing someone you love. They do not travel alone. You go with them.
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If I were a serial killer, I would not be the kind that stabs and then eats the victim. I would be the kind that hides in a tree and shoots at the aerobics class.
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My subconscious does the writing I don't have control over that.
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Self-pity is the bestiality of emotions: it absolutely disgusts people. When you're feeling pity for yourself, and somebody says to you 'You think maybe it's time for the pity party to be over? You should stop feeling sorry for yourself and try to think positive,' it makes you wish you could saw their head off.
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I felt a bottomless sadness. So completely alone. Like one of my stuffed animals at home that I was too old for now, that sat on the shelf in my closet, mashed against the back wall.
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Our lives are one endless stretch of misery punctuated by processed fast foods and the occasional crisis or amusing curiosity.
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The truth about not having everything you need, not being fully equipped or qualified or allowed is that these limits are the nebula of creative genius. When you have total freedom i.e: no limits at all. You stop trying to make the best of things
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Bad news should be followed with soup. Then a nap.
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Imperfections are attractive when their owners are happy with them.
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And I hope she does not live in a dark world. Because even the most terrible loss doesn't have to make you darker it can make you deeper.
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I don't have a fixed routine. I write every day but I don't write every day, if that makes any sense. In other words, I email with my friends constantly and sometimes I'll pull out something I've written and save it.
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Long marriages have ended in ruin over tiny and insignificant grievances that were never properly aired and instead grew into a brittle barnacle of hatred.
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Childhood is what ended me up in the hospital and teetering on the edge of deathly alcoholism. It was really good for me to accept it. To accept all the embarrassment and the shame so I don't feel like I used to.
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But even with my minimal amount of fame, there are certain perks. Recently, I was at a movie premier, and at the party after the movie, Meryl Streep was loose, walking around the room like a normal person. Absolutely nothing was preventing me from lunging toward her and shrieking Dingoes ate my baby! Dingoes ate my baby!
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