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He had no idea of how long his life would one day seem to have gone on how daily present the absence of love would come to feel. “Just watch me,” he said.
Michael Chabon
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Michael Chabon
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: May 24
Author
Columnist
Essayist
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Television Producer
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Washington
District of Columbia
Leon Chaim Bach
Malachi B. Cohen
August Van Zorn
Come
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Feel
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Long
Present
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Life
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Daily
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Man makes plans . . . and God laughs.
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When some drunken fool asked if she was a lesbian, she would say, 'In everything but sexual preference.
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Miracles prove nothing except to those whose faith is bought very cheap, sir.
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There's nothing more embarrassing than to have earned the disfavor of a perceptive animal.
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With patience and calm, persistence and stoicism, good handwriting and careful labeling, they would meet persecution, indignity, and hardship head-on.
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Take care-there is no force more powerful than that of an unbridled imagination.
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... But he believed that every great love was in some measure a terrible mistake.
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To me, Clark Kent in a phone booth and Houdini in a packing crate, they were one and the same thing, he would learnedly expound at WonderCon or Angoulême or to the editor of The Comics Journal . You weren't the same person when you came out as when you went in.
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Forget about what you are escaping from. Reserve your anxiety for what you are escaping to.
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He was a fugitive, lurking soul, James Leer. He didn't belong anywhere, but things went much better for him in places where nobody belonged.
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Procrastination is something you do yourself. You know: I gotta sharpen these pencils before I start. I got 20 pencils, they're looking kinda dull. Well, the pencils aren't calling you and alluring you and inviting you and offering you anything. They're just sitting there. You're the one who's procrastinating.
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She was a natural blonde, with delicate hands and feet, and in her youthful photographs one saw a girl with mocking eyes and a tragic smile, the course of whose life would conspire in time to transpose that pair of adjectives.
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That evening I rode downtown on an unaccountably empty bus, sitting in the last row. At the front I saw a thin cloud of smoke rising around the driver’s head. ‘Hey, bus driver,’ I said. ‘Can I smoke?’ ‘May I,’ said the bus driver. ‘I love you,’ I said.
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[Comics] were viewed as the literary equivalent of bubblegum cards, meant to be poked into the spokes of a young mind where they would produce a satisfying but entirely bogus rumble of pleasure.
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Fathering imposed an obligation that was more than your money, your body, or your time, a presence neither physical nor measurable by clocks: open-ended, eternal, and invisible, like the commitment of gravity to the stars.
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That's why school was invented - to give your parents some peace and quiet during the day.
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The two dozen commonplace childhood photographs - snowsuit, pony, tennis racket, looming fender of a Dodge - were an inexhaustible source of wonder for him, at her having existed before he met her, and of sadness for his possessing nothing of the ten million minutes of that black-and-white scallop-edged existence save these few proofs.
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I saw a lot of lousy movies and watched a ton of crappy television and read a bunch of utterly forgettable books and comics and listened to hours of junk music as a kid. And I'm still drawing profitably in my own art on some of the tawdry treasure I stored up in those years.
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If children are not permitted-not taught-to be adventurers and explorers as children, what will become of the world...?
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