I went outside. Tried taking in the billions of stars above, lingering long enough to allow each point of light the chance to scratch a deep hole in the back of my retina, so that when I finally did turn to face the dark surrounding forest I thought I saw the billion eyes of a billion cats blinking out, in the math of the living, the sum of the universe, the stories of history, a life older than anyone could have ever imagined. And even after they were gone - fading away together, as if they really were one - something still lingered in those sweet folds of black pine, sitting quietly, almost as if it too were waiting for something to wake. (House of Leaves, 509).
Also, an hour ago I was asked by the editor of Los Angeles Review of Books if I would like to do a interview with Steve Erickson for them. As in - STEVE ERICKSON. You know my answer. Thank you, you can go back to your drinks now.