I live in Queens, New York

How far will you roam for literary-related fun and excitement?

To the nipple of the world.

What are you working on? 

This sentence. I can't quite get it to...well, maybe next time.

What's your font, and why is it sexy? 

New York Twelve Point. New York is inherently sexy. Anything over-priced tends to be. Twelve, well, Christ, I don't need to explain twelve to you.

What's the sexiest vowel-consonant combination? Please demonstarte how this sexiness works in a specific word's favor. 

The name "Mona" has a particular acoustical-sexual resonance for me. I've never known anyone with the name, but that nice voiced bilabial nasal "M" and the opening of the oral cavity required to say the long "o" followed the alveolar consonant "N" give me a nice tingly feeling. Actually, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm no linguist. I'm the other kind.

Does writing about sex make you want to have sex? 

When I'm writing badly about sex, I want to have sex. When I'm writing well about sex, I want to keep writing.

Does having sex make you want to write about sex?

Having sex reminds me of why it's so hard to write about anything. 

Does writing about sex make you want to write about sex? 

It makes me want to revise what I've previously written about sex.

Does having sex make you want to have lunch? 

Are you hitting on me?

What do you want for Christmas?

A chance to rediscover my Jewish roots.

Do you ever run your fingers along the pages of an open book as a substitute for self-gratification? 

What the hell kind of substitute is that? That's worse than the polished hood of a sports car.

If you could fuck a book, which book, and why, and in which position?

I'd fuck Klaus Kinski's autobiography All I Need Is Love, which accomodates all positions.

Have you ever entertained sexual fantasies about a literary character? If so, please describe your date.

Robert Jordan (For Whom the Bell Tolls) and I fight the forces of fascism in Spain. Later we fuck in a cave. Queequeg wanders in and does unmentionable things with his harpoon. Ulrich's sister in The Man Without Qualities and Daisy Buchanan join in. It's not really a date, but it's something very exciting.

Have you ever slept with the editor of this site? If no, please explain.

I think I got pretty close once, but I must have blown it somehow. 

When you try to pick someone up at a reading, what's your favorite literary euphemism (i.e., you wanna come over and anna my karenina?) 

Would you like to Primo my Levi? I guess I don't know any literary euphemisms. I guess I don't cruise readings, either. Don my DeLillo? At least there's a legitimate verb there.

Whose books do you save for bedtime reading in the hopes that the author will visit you in your dreams? If this has ever worked, please describe the nocturnal encounter.

Sometimes I read Edward Dahlberg in bed, but I definitely don't want him to visit me in dream. I just think his prose, so lush and allusion-dense, makes my dreams that much dreamier. I'm tired of falling off cliffs or not getting my homework in on time.

Has having had your writing appear on websites ever led to bouts of uncontrollable cyberfucking with perfect strangers? 

It may not seem so at the time, but it's always controllable. You just a need a little discipline.

When overhearing someone else's sexual encounter, do you (a) put a pillow over your head, (b) grab a pen and paper and try to phonetically capture the experience, or (c) read aloud (as loudly as possible) from Middlemarch?

A and C are fairly similar responses. I just listen to the story being told, maybe touch myself.

If you could write yourself into a book, which book, and how would your appearance sexually charge the text?

I'd be a prophet in the Bible going around saying, "Forget all that bullshit about not lying with goats and such. It's really okay!"

To what degree has responding to this questionnaire dampened your enslaving valley of love?

Dampness is always welcome in this valley.