SM: What’s your first reaction to the sound of your name spoken out loud?
WW: I guess it’s usually a crapshoot between, fear, elation, or guilt at being elated.
SM: If you were to illustrate your great-great-grandchildren in the future, what would you make sure to include in your illustration?
WW: I’d make sure that they didn’t have to walk around in bodies made out of meat… Or at least could grow new ones if they messed theirs up.
KD: When was the last time you felt like all things around you were working together in unison?
WW: When my wife and I became engaged.
SM: What is something you always make sure to do in the wintertime?
WW: Sew together all the holes in the armpits of my sweaters.
SM: In the middle of the interview, an anecdote is requested.
WW: Once, while sitting on a bridge in Wurtzburg, an old woman told me I had beautiful hands and that I should never perform any manual labor with them. I took it to heart, but I would have rather she told me that I had a beautiful brain and that I should never work in an office. I think I would be happier.
SM: What is the most memorable thing that’s happened to you in a moving vehicle?
WW: I’ve had some unprintable events occur on a greyhound bus, but other than that, I’d prefer that nothing memorable happen in a moving vehicle, since most memorable events that happen in transit involve
visits to the hospital.
SM: Hypothetical: Let’s say there is a tree outside of time, and every root that feeds that tree is a moment in time that you have lived. Given the current moment you’re in, how well is that tree doing?
WW: Gnarly with the frustration of not being able to figure out what kind of tree it is, but otherwise leafy.
SM: How do you feel most days, just walking down the street?
WW: Like we’re all on the verge of some sort of cataclysm, or each day is settling into a sort of psychotic sameness that will only be interrupted by death. I wonder if everyone on the planet simultaneously lost their minds, if anyone would be able to distance themselves enough from the situation to realize we had all gone crazy.