And books that were published in much larger numbers than Selfish, Little are hard to find. And publishers who wanted to publish my last few works have them stuck in limbo while new distribution ideas and legal issues and fears are blown away.

Further, for once, I like the idea that people who think I'm a constant voice for the furthering of the imagination have to see that interest in a more materialistic fashion.

Further, I'm obsessed with how language contorts and creates bodies.

I don't publish the books to make money, not at all.

I don't sell enough books to pay for the lawyers, however. And these various problems finally became too much.

I'm not trying to do conceptual art.